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noyaspeach · 8 months

Text

first light

Summary: Could this be how every day begins?

After a long and restless night with no sleep, you go looking for something to while away the hours. As it turns out, Astarion is just as much of an insomniac as you are, and the two of you spend the early morning together.

Pairing: Astarion x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 4,334

Tags: Fluff and Light Angst, Pining, Feelings Realization (Kinda?), Second Person POV, Soft Astarion, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Insomnia, Watching the Sunrise

Author's Note:

not me returning to fic-writing over 3 years later with an astarion fic of all things. i can't even guarantee i'll write another one considering i'm about to start college again, but i would sure like to!

i was heavily inspired to write this because of the release of hozier's album. it perfectly aligned with me becoming obsessed with baldur's gate 3, and astarion is just so hozier-coded, how could i not? as the title suggests, i was inspired by the song "first light" which is the last song on the album, based on dante's ascent out of hell and his first taste of light and freedom. i imagine it's how astarion must have felt when he was no longer forced to do cazador's bidding and when he could finally experience sunlight again.

obligatory disclaimers: i haven't actually played the game yet, so this fic is informed by clips i've seen online, gif sets, the baldur's gate wiki, and other fics. if any details in this aren't chronologically sound or if anything seems a little non-compliant with the canon of the game... now you know why lol.

still, i hope you enjoy it! this is also posted to ao3! read here!

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You stare up at the ceiling of your tent, frustration rolling in your chest as you struggle to rest. Your eyes are beginning to sting with the lack of sleep, but simply closing them does nothing to help. You’ve gone through all of your belongings twice already, looking for something to ease you into slumber, but no amount of reading or alcohol seems to do the trick. It certainly doesn’t help that the weather has been oppressively humid all night, leaving you coated in a thin, sticky layer of sweat that doesn’t seem to leave you no matter how many layers you shed.

You can’t bear to lay around in the thick air of your tent, so you decide to sit out by the extinguished campfire in the hopes that it will do more to relax you.

You quietly open your tent flap and emerge into the mild morning air. It’s much cooler outside, and a light breeze tickles your arm, already doing wonders to dry your sweat. It’s still too early for daylight, so the camp is only dimly illuminated by the moonlight. With the lack of light, you listen out for the sounds of the forest around you: the chirps of insects beneath you, hooting owls in the distance, and a trickling stream not too far away. Focusing on these scarce sounds, you already feel much calmer.

After a moment of peace, you hear a rustle to your right. You whip your head toward the sound, hands ready at your weapon, when you see a familiar face emerge from the trees. You let your hands drop to your side again. It’s just Astarion. He appears to be returning to his tent, noticeably empty-handed. You wonder what he’s up to this early in the morning, and he seems to be wondering the same thing, eyeing you with an inquisitive raise of the eyebrow.

“Restless sleeper, are we?” He remarks.

“Something like that,” you reply. “Just needed some fresh air.”

You notice that Astarion is still in his sleepwear, the sleeves of his white undershirt pushed up above his elbows. “And what are you doing out?”

“Oh, you know. Searching for a midnight snack, so to speak.” He gestures to the woods behind him. “Unfortunately, there isn’t a very fine selection tonight.”

You grimace at the thought of Astarion catching an innocent woodland creature between his teeth. It’s a less-than-flattering image, one that’s informed by the memory of the boar he drained a while back, and one that you’re eager to dismiss.

“Is that all you’ve been up to?” You ask.

“Why? Were you getting lonely without me?” He teases. You can only roll your eyes in response. When he doesn’t receive a retort, Astarion sighs and continues. “Right, if you want an honest answer, I was going for a stroll to pass the time.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Wandering about on your own while everyone’s asleep isn’t a very good idea. If something happens out there, none of us will be able to save you”

“Trust me, darling, I can hold my own just fine. But I appreciate you worrying about my safety. It’s almost touching.” He smirks. “I would appreciate it even more if you would refrain from telling the others about my… routine here. I don’t exactly want the company.”

“Routine? How long have you been taking these walks?”

“Since the day I joined you all, I would say.” Astarion’s eyes move to the entrance of his own tent. “I haven’t been able to get much sleep myself, and I figure there isn’t much use laying on my bedroll if I’m not resting or satisfying… other needs. So, I walk. And occasionally feed.”

You search Astarion’s face for any sign of deception, but he’s being surprisingly truthful, if a little bashful. You resonate with his sleeplessness, being something of an insomniac yourself. Despite the immense toll your travels have taken on your body, you can’t seem to rest very easily at all, especially when you need it the most. Whether it’s the vivid memories of past battles replaying in your dreams, the smothering climate of whatever campsite you’ve picked out that night, or the relentless wriggling of the tadpole in your head, there’s always something keeping you up.

“I’m surprised I haven’t caught you earlier, then,” you say. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” says Astarion. He smiles, and it seems he means it too. “Well, seeing as neither one of us will be getting to bed anytime soon, would you care to join me?”

You cross your arms. “I thought you would have preferred to be alone.”

“Misery loves company and all. I think I can make an exception for a fellow night owl,” he drawls.

You agree to walk with him then and quietly head in the opposite direction of both tents. You’re sure to bring your weapon with you in the off chance that something—or someone—attacks the two of you. A very small part of you still garners some suspicion for Astarion himself, especially considering that night in which he tried to feed from you while you slept. Perhaps that’s another factor in your insomnia; although you let Astarion drink his fill that night, you can’t be entirely sure he won’t try it again. That he won’t succeed in creeping up on you and draining you completely.

You shiver at the thought, but pass it off as a cold chill from the wind. As the two of you slowly move from the campsite, your surroundings become even quieter. The chirping insects from before are silent now, and the nearby stream is barely a whisper. You can hardly hear either of your footsteps. It’s at once peaceful and unsettling.

After a few short minutes, you’re the first to break the silence. “What do you usually do when you’re out here?”

Astarion thinks for a moment, and hums. “Hmm. Aside from hunting, I suppose I just sit with my thoughts. There isn’t much else to do, is there?”

You nod, but somehow you don’t think being left with one’s own thoughts is particularly relaxing for anyone in your party. You can’t imagine it’s any good for Astarion, especially.

“And what do you think about?”

“So much,” he says. “Plans, mostly. Where our next destination is, where I’ll find my next meal, what I’ll do when we reach Baldur’s Gate, how to get rid of this wretched parasite…”

“Do you ever think about your past?”

Astarion’s gaze is a bit distant until you ask that. He slows his pace and turns to you, looking unusually serious. “I prefer not to.”

He leaves it at that, so you decide not to push further. You only know a little about Astarion’s life before the tadpole entered his mind. You know he’s the spawn of an even more powerful vampire, a master to whom he was a slave for nearly 200 years, and you know he’s lived in the shadows up until now. It isn’t lost on you that this entire adventure is his first taste of freedom in centuries. You understand why he would rather focus on the future. Still, your nagging curiosity makes you desperate for more information about him.

“What about you, my dear?” He returns to his more amused attitude. “What do you do in that tent of yours to pass the time until the morning comes? Don’t tell me if it’s anything naughty… Actually, do.”

You shake your head and suppress a smile as he actually almost earns a laugh from you. “Nothing like that. I normally just try to distract myself until I can hopefully fall back asleep. Read something, sort my wares, hum a tune. Anything to relax.”

“I take it that hasn’t been working for you?”

“No. Not one bit. I’m actually kind of worried it might start affecting my performance from now on. Unlike some of the elves in this team, I actually need quite a lot of rest.”

“A true shame,” he tuts. “Although it is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I don’t need to sleep for very long. On the other, I can’t sleep for very long. Sometimes I do wish I could simply let the whole day pass while I doze off. That would be much easier than just waiting it out.”

You hadn’t considered this. While the rest of your traveling companions are able to sleep through the night, Astarion has no choice but to wait for everyone to wake up around sunrise. All he can do is hope to get a few hours of rest before sitting through the unnerving silence of the night, the only unique sounds being the faint snores and mumbles that float from the other tents. You and he are alike in this struggle, but you at least are lucky enough to have a few nights when your exhaustion is bad enough to force you to bed.

“Well, taking a stroll like this is a good idea,” you finally say. “Thank you for inviting me along.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Astarion’s lips. “Thank you for joining me. I will admit, it’s easier to pass the time with a… friend… by my side.”

Your heart swells at that word: “friend.” It’s a welcome upgrade from whatever you two might have been considered before.

A few minutes pass with the both of you chatting politely. As you walk, you make note of your surroundings to ensure that you don’t stray too far from camp or encounter any traps. This occupies your mind for a while, but Astarion seems to be running out of topics to discuss. Not wanting him to abandon your little trip just yet, you try to think of something to entertain him. Looking out at the forest and the sky in front of you, you notice that the moon has begun its descent into the trees, meaning morning is almost upon you two. This gives you an idea.

You stop and pivot to face Astarion. He stops too, surprised at your sudden pause.

“What is it?” He asks.

"Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?”

He’s taken aback only momentarily before he adopts his familiar flirtatious demeanor. “Trying to turn this into a romantic tryst, are you? If you want something more, you’ll have to be a little more direct than that.”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t mean anything by it. I want to know if you’ll sit and watch the sun come up with me. That’s all. It should be rising soon enough. It’s almost morning.”

He seems puzzled, his brows tightening and eyes scanning your face for any indication that you may be holding something back. When he doesn’t find anything, he settles back into an easy expression. “I seem to have misjudged. My apologies… Yes, I wouldn’t mind sitting with you.”

“Great.” You smile and begin to walk again. “I heard some water earlier, so I think there may be a stream near here. Maybe it’ll make for a nice spot.”

Astarion follows as you lead him closer to the sound of running water, and the two of you shortly come upon the stream. It’s a small, shallow brook that separates the woods from which you emerge and another expanse of trees on the other side. Right along the edge of the water is a line of smooth rocks big enough to sit on. It’s the perfect place to set up, you think.

The two of you find purchase on the edge of the rocks, feet just barely dangling off the side, hovering above the calmly flowing water. The rocks aren’t terribly big, so the two of you sit side-by-side, your knees close enough to touch. Across the brook, the trees begin to thin out, leaving a clear view of the horizon. You estimate that the sun will start its ascent in the next few minutes, but for now, the scene in front of you remains thinly bathed in moonlight.

In the quiet of the dawn, the moon casts its silvery glow on the world beneath it. Every blade of grass, every dewy flower, every mossy stone radiates with a hazy blue hue. The stream beneath you reflects this onto both of your faces, and you give a sideways glance to your companion next to you. You watch as the light dances across his cheeks, admiring how it shines in his curls, how it glistens in his deep red eyes, and how it collects in the space just above his lips. You inhale and the earthy scent of the forest mixes with the smell of Astarion’s perfume in your nose. As you do so, you realize now just how close in proximity you are to him. You’re close enough to trace his silhouette from the slope of his nose to his slender neck with your fingers if you so choose. You glimpse at the puncture marks just below his jaw and remember once more the night you let him drink from you. You remember the moment you awoke in terror before you realized who was crouched above you. You remember the uncertainty you felt as you gave him permission to continue, not sure whether it was a wise decision or not. You remember the sharp sting of his teeth entering your skin and the almost exhilarating dizziness that followed as he coaxed your blood out with his tongue. The rest of that moment is a blur to you, but you can still distinctly recall how he cradled your head with one hand, the other gently ghosting down your spine. For almost a full day after that night, the smell of bergamot and rosemary lingered on your neck.

“You do know staring is rude, don’t you, darling?” Astarion says. “Not that I particularly mind.” He leans back on his arms and turns to face you. “Not when it’s you.”

Your cheeks flush in spite of the cool temperature. You wonder when it was you became so vulnerable to Astarion’s flirting. Even though you have, you try not to entertain it. After all, you suspect his charming behavior is at least partly a ruse.

“Sorry,” you mutter and look back at the horizon. “It’s very pretty out. It’ll be even prettier in just a few more minutes, too. We’re in the perfect spot to watch the sun come up.”

“Is that so?” Astarion tilts his head as he continues to behold you. “You know, I’ve never watched the sunrise like this.”

You twist to look at him again, utterly shocked. “Seriously? Not once?”

He shakes his head.

“How come?”

He sighs. “I’m sure I must have before… everything. But I can’t seem to remember anything from back then. I lost most of my memories when I was brought back, save for a few of the important details. I suppose sunrises weren’t important enough to stick.” He frowns and stares out at a canopy of trees in the distance. “Then, as you know, it would have been incredibly stupid for me to be out in the light with this condition of mine. So, I never tried. I didn’t have very many opportunities to do so, in any case.”

Your brow furrows, but you don’t say anything. Instead, you let Astarion continue at his own pace.

“...I spent decades in my master’s lair, a- a dungeon, really. I was trapped in the darkness. The only time I was allowed out was when he needed fresh, new bodies, and even then it was always under the cover of night. For the longest time, that was all that I knew. In a way, it’s what I’m still used to…”

Suddenly his sleeplessness makes all the more sense to you.

“I know I’m free from that now, what with the tadpole and all, but…” He trails off. You understand.

After several beats of silence, you clear your throat.

“Once, when I was a child, I went playing in the woods with some of the other children in the village. There were maybe six of us in total? I don’t exactly remember. But we marched all the way from the market to the forest pretending we were a band of heroes. I was at the back of the line, right behind this boy that I really liked. I put myself there on purpose so that I could smile and blush as much as I wanted without him seeing me.”

“How cute,” Astarion comments with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yeah. I mean, I thought I was being clever, but it was pretty silly, wasn’t it? Anyways, when we entered the woods, we decided to split off into teams to see who could find the most ‘treasure.’ We just plucked up sticks, flowers, beetles, pinecones, that kind of stuff. I was paired with the boy I liked, and I was so giddy about it. I wanted to show him just how cool I was, so I climbed up every tree and jumped off every rock. Just hearing him laugh and clap for me was enough for me to keep going. So, I did. Before we knew it, we realized we had strayed too far from the rest of the group. We tried to call out to them but heard nothing in return. We were lost.”

You pause your story to get a brief look at Astarion. You half-expect him to be bored by this point, but you’re surprised to see that he’s giving you his full attention. He waves his hand, signaling for you to continue.

“We started playing late into the evening, so by the time we realized that we had no clue where we were, the sun had already begun to set. I remember cursing myself for wishing I could have some alone time with this boy because that wasn’t at all what I had had in mind. But, alas, that was the situation I was stuck in. When it reached midnight and we still hadn’t made our way back to the village, I started panicking. You should know that I used to be deathly afraid of the forest at night. I was terrified of what kind of creatures could be hiding, waiting to snatch me up and eat me alive.”

“Hmm, like vampires?” Astarion teases.

You smirk. “Precisely. You’ll remember, though, that I was stuck with the boy I liked. So, there was no way I could show that I was scared. I couldn’t display any sign of weakness or else he might not think I was as cool as I let off. Knowing this, I put on a brave face and silently begged the gods for some protection before I assembled a makeshift camp for the two of us. It was, admittedly, very shitty, but it did its job of giving us some shelter for the night. I told him he could sleep and that I would keep watch, and so I did. I didn’t sleep very much back then, either, now that I think about it. I guess not a lot has changed about me… But I digress. I stayed up the whole night, sitting outside our little fort, listening to him snore and talk in his sleep. I don’t think I could have left his side if I wanted to, considering how petrified I was. But I powered through the fear, for his sake. I was so young, but I cared about this boy so much that I felt I owed it to him to make sure he was safe.”

“You were quite the hero, even back then,” Astarion says gently. “Is this little story your way of telling me to be more selfless?”

“Not at all. I’m getting to the point, I promise. I sat there for hours as I waited for it to become day again. Eventually, I was able to focus on the more beautiful parts of the night: the moon, the stars, the lightning bugs, the sweet whisper of the wind through the leaves. The more I searched for the good in my situation, the less scared I became, until I was no longer scared at all. By the time dawn rolled around, I was at peace, actually. I was so proud of myself for making it through the night, I immediately woke the boy up to share the moment with him. Then, we sat together, kind of like this,” You gesture to your and Astarion’s seating position, “and just watched the sunrise in perfect silence. I had never watched the sunrise before. It was so nice, getting to quietly enjoy such a wonderful view with someone I loved.”

As you finish your story, you face Astarion once more. His gaze is soft as he listens to you speak, and the tender curl of his lips betrays a sincere gratitude for having shared this with him.

“Did anything ever happen between you and that boy?” He asks.

“Sadly, no. He eventually fell for some other girl in town. Last I heard, they had three kids together.”

“Hmm.” Astarion angles his chin away from you. “Well, that’s his loss.”

You look away, too, and smile to yourself.

Suddenly, the sky begins to transform before your eyes. The first gleams of sunlight begin to caress the horizon as the moon takes its final bow behind you. The forest, still coated with all the glimmering remnants of morning dew, stirs from its slumber under the streams of the emerging sun. As the sun slowly rises, its warm embrace spreads like honey between the trees, flooding the forest floor with rays of pink and amber. Shafts of light pierce through the lush foliage, creating scintillating patterns on the surface of the water that seem to dance at the promise of a new day. Finally, when the sun peers at you from above the treetops, it’s as if the sky erupts. A burst of brilliance envelopes the world below it in its welcoming embrace, casting everything in a blazing golden light.

You begin to say something to Astarion but stop when you see his face. He looks positively radiant. His face glows in the daylight, appearing even more magnificent than he did in the moon’s silver beams. His face and his hair are colored by the sun, making him look more alive than he ever has before. Every detail from the strands in his eyebrows to the smallest of moles is illuminated before you. You watch as his eyes glisten before softly fluttering closed. He breathes deeply, his chest slowly rising and falling, and he basks in the sunlight. He relaxes completely, letting the sun’s rays melt away any and all tension he may have been holding on to.

You want nothing more than to cup his face in your hands, then, and feel the newly imbued warmth of his skin as you press your lips to his. Instead, however, you carefully place your hand on top of his. His eyes blink open and he turns to look at you once more. You hesitate for a moment, ready to move away, but he doesn’t reject you. His eyes crinkle with appreciation and he laces your fingers together before gently stroking his thumb against the side of your hand. His skin is still a bit cold, but thanks to you, it quickly warms up.

The two of you sit there in tranquility, taking in all of the sights, sounds, and feelings of the early morning. Time seems to slow, then, as if the universe itself also wishes to savor this serene moment for just a little while longer.

Soon, you hear the distant sound of casual conversation as the others awaken for yet another day of arduous traveling. You sigh, knowing that the two of you will have to return to camp shortly and leave all of this behind. You don’t want to let go just yet.

“We should probably get back,” Astarion says first. “I wouldn’t want the others to think that I killed you and scurried off or something like that.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be very good for morale,” you joke. After a moment, you reluctantly untwine your fingers and push yourself up off the rocks. You extend a hand to Astarion to help him up, which he graciously accepts.

Neither of you moves at first until Astarion takes a step toward you. Standing so close to you, you wonder if he’s about to kiss you when he gingerly takes hold of your hands. He gives you that sincere smile again.

“Thank you again for this. It was… nice.” You almost can’t believe how vulnerable he seems right now, eyes staring into yours with no hint of false pretenses. “I’d like to do this again with you, if you’ll join me.”

“I would love to.”

“Wonderful,” he says. He lets go of you. “Shall we then?”

The two of you take your time walking back to the campsite, talking idly about what the next few days have in store. When you arrive, Karlach is the first to notice you.

“There you two are! We were beginning to worry.” She looks between you both and crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes mischievously. “Anything we should know about your disappearance?”

You chuckle. “Nothing that would excite you, Karlach.”

You walk past her and approach your tent. The rest of your team is already getting to work cleaning their weapons, armor, and other equipment, preparing to hunt, or strategizing together. Before you duck inside to retrieve your clothes for washing, you turn back and lock eyes with Astarion. He’s entered a conversation between Shadowheart and Gale, but he isn’t all that engaged. He shoots you a knowing look and another small smile which you return in kind.

As you wash your clothes in the river just south of the camp, you think fondly of the promise you’ve now made with Astarion and the many sunrises to come. Suddenly, insomnia doesn’t seem so bad.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion baldur's gate #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #i want to give astarion so much love pls

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steddieas-shegoes · 9 months

Note

Request: Steve being a hidden nerd in certain ways (ei: sports, camping, outdoor stuff like camping & vegetation/botony, bugs, animals & shit) the kids losing their collective mind as Steve tells them about it. Maybe on a camping trip or something???? I especially want Hop to be impressed.

This is maybe my first request that didn't have some kind of romantic relationship Steddie. They do have a little flirty moment, but beyond that, I liked the idea of just everyone loving Steve and being so intrigued by his knowledge of all of this random nature stuff. Also, no research was done here. Like, zero. I don't know what is true and what isn't so assume none of it is. This is fiction based on fiction and we're here for a good time. I've never been to Yosemite, but it is on the list for me and Liam to go! - Mickala ❤️

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No one expected Steve to actually want to go camping. Sure, he wanted an RV, wanted to go to National Parks and see mountains and lakes and rivers, but they assumed he’d just want to stay in the RV.

They hadn’t expected him to bring tents.

They hadn’t expected him to suggest sleeping in the tents.

“But…we have an RV,” Mike said, suddenly no longer interested in their trip to Yosemite.

“To travel in. But we won’t all comfortably sleep in it. It’s made for five people at most.”

And that was that. The only people sleeping in the RV were Hopper and Joyce and Max and El, and everyone else was sleeping in tents.

The entire drive there was filled with arguments over music, arguing over who got to sit where, and Steve’s “fun facts” about the land they would be staying on.

He had apparently done quite a bit of research, or he had been hiding a whole wealth of knowledge from everyone.

His fun facts were actually interesting, and everyone quickly tuned in when he started telling them about how the mountains could be dated because of the type and color of the rocks, and how much of the sequoias had been destroyed over the last couple of decades and what they were doing to preserve what was left.

When they arrived, everyone stared in wonder at the meadow in front of them, the mountains as the backdrop to a beautiful sunset.

It would still be light for close to two hours, so they didn’t rush to set up the tents. They went on a short walk along the road they took to the campsite, Steve pointing out different types of plants and birds as they went.

Everyone was in awe of his information, but no one was as surprised as Hopper.

“Where did you learn all this?” he asked on the way back to the campsite as the kids raced each other ahead.

“I went to camp once when I was seven and then I was obsessed with nature. My parents wouldn’t let me go back to camp, but they let me get books and movies about plants and animals. In high school, I took geology and almost had a perfect grade. I just like this stuff,” Steve shrugged.

“So you only went to camp once? Is this your way of going to camp?” Hopper asked casually.

He didn’t usually ask questions that didn’t tell him something he absolutely needed to know.

“I guess. And to spend time with everyone. I like when we can all be together without hell surrounding us, ya know?” Steve admitted.

Hopper’s hand rested on his shoulder and squeezed in silent agreement.

Putting the tents up had been relatively easy, especially when Steve managed to show them a trick he taught himself when he was young and wanted to set up a tent in his backyard but never had anyone there to help him.

No one commented on how sad it was, but Steve realized it after he said it.

As everyone got their sleeping bags and lamps set up in their tents, Steve found a large rock along the edge of the creek in the meadow and sat on it, watching as the sun finally sank behind the mountains.

“Hey,” a voice startled Steve.

He relaxed when he turned to see that it was Eddie.

“Hey.”

“Mind if I sit with you for a minute? Kids are being a bit too much right now.”

“Go ahead,” Steve gestured to the spot next to him. “Not exactly a comfy seat, but the view can’t be beat.”

“Oh, so you’re rhyming now?” Eddie teased as he nudged Steve’s shoulder.

“Not on purpose,” Steve laughed. “It’s pretty great out here, though.”

“Yeah it is. You did good, Stevie.”

Steve looked over to see Eddie already smiling fondly at him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And, for what it’s worth, I think it’s pretty fucking cool that you love nature so much. Nature isn’t really a good friend of mine, but it’s pretty nice to hear about it from you.”

“I’ll make an explorer out of you yet, Eds.”

Eddie looked at him with a look he hadn’t seen on anyone before, at least not towards him.

“Maybe you will, Stevie.”

Eddie only sat there for another minute before excusing himself to check that none of the kids touched his brand new acoustic guitar.

Steve sat there until it was completely dark around him, watching the land in front of him shift ever so slightly as the breeze picked up and the cicadas started their nightly song.

Robin sat down next to him, rested her head against his shoulder and sat with him in silence for a few minutes.

“It’s good to be out here. I don’t think Max ever expected to see mountains like this. She keeps asking when she can climb them,” Robin whispered.

“She does remember her legs aren’t at 100% yet still, right?” Steve asked.

“I think she’s willing to give it a go anyway. What’s the point of being here and surviving everything if you can’t even try?”

Steve nodded.

“Wanna come tell us more about the trail we’re taking tomorrow?”

“You guys wanna hear about it now?”

“Yeah. We like that you’re passionate about it.”

Steve felt his cheeks heat up at the words.

“Okay then. If you guys don’t mind. There’s supposed to be a specific type of rabbit who burrows along this specific trail during the summer and they can grow to be nearly two feet long.”

“That sounds terrifying. Come tell everyone about it,” Robin said as she got up and offered him a hand.

He took it and made his way back to the group.

Everyone listened to him talk about their plan for tomorrow, not interrupting when he got sidetracking talking about the type of trees they would see and what kind of flowers tended to bloom during this particular time of year.

When Steve and Eddie slipped into their tent an hour or so later, they could have stayed in their respective sleeping bags.

But Steve was still too eager to talk about things, so Eddie sidled up next to him in his sleeping bag and held his hand while he talked for another hour about the waterfall they’d be seeing and the type of fish that would most likely be in the river.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #request #ficlet #secret nerd steve harrington #the party #jim hopper

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happy-beeeps · 3 months

Text

Naïveté

Summary: Astarion begins to reconcile with the fact he might have fallen for you, only to worry you've caught an interest in someone else. Earllllllly act 2, minor spoilers for act 2!

Pairing: Astarion x f!tav

Warnings/tags: fluff, miscommunication if you squint, jealous!astarion, platonic!wyll x tav, slightly ooc Astarion because I'm still learning to write him so be nice PLEASE😭🥺

WC: 2k

a/n: I'm finishing a character sheet for tav so we can have her backstory, but she's who I've been using this playthrough and I've been really enjoying her story. When I post on Ao3 she'll have a name, but I'm going to leave her unnamed here! Also, will have a seperate BG3 spot on my masterlist soon!

It’s late at camp, and by the time you finish indulging in a bottle of wine with Karlach, you figure you’re the only one still up. It’s been a long night, and an even longer few days, spent trudging through the grimy depths of the Shadowcursed lands and just barely making it out of the encounter with Marcus alive. Isobel had given you the ability to travel freely, but all you could do was set up camp near the inn.

The firelight is dim when you make your way back from the secluded spot near Karlach’s tent, and Astarion’s tent is sealed tightly. You contemplate going over, just peaking your head in to see if he’s deep in trance yet, but you change your mind. After your previous night’s conversation, you’re still not sure on speaking terms. It plays out over and over again in your mind. Naive, he’d called you, your heart was too big.

You tried to be reasonable. You were naive. You were young, and perhaps no one but Wyll new exactly how young. To be ninety as an elf was to be just becoming an adult. No one else had known, no else had asked, including Astarion. You chalked it up to his truly immortal lifespan, he hadn’t cared about aging for 200 years, why start now?

Still, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt to him, or the thrill that shook your bones when he would quietly rush into your tent each morning, murmuring the incantation for lesser restoration. You still thought of the way he looked at Gale when he asked to consume that locket all those days back. “I’m glad you let him suffer for a moment, darling,” he’d murmured into your ear that night, his breath tingly on your neck, “That one’s ours.”

There’d been other nights since your first night together, while you hadn’t slept together in completion since, all passion and teeth and sweat. Sometimes you’d just kiss him, wrapped up in nothing else but this bliss of arms and scent. Lately though, he’d been closed off—distant. His conversation the previous night had come out of nowhere, as if you were standing on the doorstep of Moonrise Towers that very instant.

You were so lost in your own thoughts, consumed of Astarion, that you nearly missed Wyll’s form standing near the dimming fire, moving around in a dance you actually recognized.

“I hope I’m not interrupting practice,” you smiled, giving the man ample warning before you stumbled into his rehearsal.

Wyll wheeled on you, a faint blush growing across his cheeks. “It’s one of those old courting dances, it’d be a cold day in the hells before I’d ever forget them.”

“Oh I’m quite familiar,” you murmured, thinking back to your own youth, your own debutante ball, before you lost everything. “Everyone else around here forgets I come from taste.”

Wyll snorts, “Sure don’t smell like it.”

Your friendship with Wyll is a special thing. No one else can understand what it felt like to be from a Noble family, the expectations and the experience it comes with. When your family had been killed and their wealth assumed, you were completely on your own. Learning how to pickpockets and lie had not been a part of your expensive and tasteful education.

Dancing, however, came second nature.

You move to stand in front of him without really thinking, decades of experience guiding your motions. “Go on, let’s see what you can do.”

He’s a fine partner, moving cautiously around you and guiding your hand easily. Even when he brings you closer for a slightly more intimate dance, his hands nor his eyes never stray.

“I wonder what I’d have done if I ever saw you at one of the balls my father sent me too.” He murmurs.

“I’m certain you did. Though you would’ve been young. I haven’t been in nearly a decade.”

He chuckles, and clucks his tongue for a moment, “Just practically a baby, far to young to approach Fey nobility.” Before bowing in front of you and wishing you goodnight. There’s the smallest beat where he looks at you as if he has something to say. You look at him for the smallest moment. It would be so easy to love him, if you were anyone else. He’s exactly who your father would have picked for you, save his humanity. But, despite it, you can’t. You can’t fake the flutter you get when you Astarion’s cold hands tickle your fingers, or the tickle of his hair on your cheek when he’s pressed against your neck. You’re not naive enough to admit this to Astarion, but from the fleeting glance you send to his tent, you can see that Wyll already knows. He leaves you with a knowing glance and a soft goodnight. You go back to your own tent, happy to have removed the thought of the curse, of Ketheric, and even of your own problems for just a moment.

So full of contentedness in fact, you don’t notice the scarlet eyes peering at you from the slat of their tent, a whirlwind of emotions cascading over them.

* * *

Astarion doesn’t hide his mild disdain for Wyll, or anyone to be fair, to begin with, but the following morning he bears down on the man like an ogre. “I didn’t anticipate you being quite so light on your feet. The Blade stands at the ready, and also ready to pirouette, I suppose?”

Wyll rolls his eyes at Astarion’s quip, used to the sarcasm, but somewhat surprised at the intensity of the rogue’s grip on his arm. “Wasn’t aware I couldn’t have past times.”

“By all means feel free to entertain us with a ballet in between slaughters,” his voice hushes as you walk by, looking at the two men skeptically, “I’d just prefer if your duets didn’t happen whilst I’m trying to read.”

Wyll follows Astarion’s slightly fleeting to his retreating gaze. You’re standing behind him, out of earshot, leaning against Lae’zel’s tent while she sharpens your sword. Astarion’s stare is enough to allow him to piece everything together. “Can I give you a word of advice?”

“Only if you accept that I may ignore it entirely.”

“She’s wonderful. And she’s made her choice without giving anyone else a chance. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste it, wouldn’t kill you to get to know her.”

Wyll walks away, and Astarion is left alone again with his thoughts. Contrary to Wyll’s belief, he thinks it might actually kill him to get to know you. He’s been balancing precariously on his fight to not let himself be fully consumed by you and your grace, your goodness. You were a spoilt little thing, he was sure of that, and he had meant what he said that night by the water. It didn’t mean it hurt his chest more when your face fell. “Naive?” there was a crack in your cool, crafted facade. Genuine hurt had settled there for a moment, and something akin to disappointment. He hadn’t known how to face you since, hadn’t known how to say “I’m sorry! I’m falling for you and can’t help it and I’m terrified!”

So instead he said nothing at all, and resolved to say something later.

* * *

You had just gotten back to camp for the night, Karlach nearly giggling at the amount of gold she had stuffed in her pockets from the tollhouse. You had noticed Astarion’s eyes on you, heavy and pensive, when you had dealt with the Master of Coin, how easily you’d convinced her to simply cease to be. That was perhaps the easiest transition from nobility to rogue you had, the gift of a silver tongue and wide, batting eyes.

You changed into your camp clothes and watched Karlach throw gold pieces at an increasingly irritated Lae’zel, Gale standing nearby doing his best to keep spirits high in this eerie camp, working with whatever cured meats and cheeses you still had to attempt to make a dinner. You had changed into camp clothes and grabbed one of the books you had found in the tollmaster’s office, a shockingly smutty romance novel that had to be even older than you. It was quiet in the corner you found, somewhere even Halsin’s booming laugh had faded into quiet background noise. You tried to not think about your surroundings, about your increasing frustration with Astarion, or the odd way his gaze had hung on you all day.

“I’m always impressed by that tongue of yours, petal.” The vampire’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and he settled beside you on the ground, arms behind him as he reclined easily next to you.

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, and the pet name. “Yet you’ve been leaving me and my tongue to our thoughts the past few days.” You huffed, flipping the book to the next page, though not really reading any of it

If Astarion could blush, he looked as if he would. “We’ve been a bit busy darling. I’ve been…strategizing.”

“Strategizing?”

“Precisely.”

The quiet overtook the two of you. After being so distant, if he didn’t want to come to you, then so be it. You could not—would not–crack first. He could not even begin to know the bubbling furnace of your feelings, or you’d be positively done for.

“How old are you?”

His question strikes you, strikes you enough that you set the book off to the side and face him. “At what point did you start to ask me questions?”

“When I realized I had done something to anger my favorite companion,” his fingers reach out and trace small patterns on your skin. “How old are you?”

“Ninety.” Your voice moves to a whisper at the end of the word, and his eyebrows quirk.

“Only ninety and yet alone. And Balduran?”

“Yes, but I haven’t lived there since I was seventy five.”

“Something happened,” he rocks upward, now sitting nearer to you. “You weren’t supposed to be like this.”

“Perhaps that’s why I’m so naive.” It comes out more bitter than you meant, but oh well. He deserved it.

“Naive wasn’t the right word,” he looks like he’s fighting himself to turn out the next sentence. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

You smile softly, laying a hand on top of his. “I don’t know if I believe that, but I appreciate the apology.”

He grins, his deep set smile lines settling in your favorite way. “Tell me about your childhood.”

You shrug, “There’s not much to say. I was an only child, an only daughter. I used to play the lyre, learn languages, paint–”

“You come from nobility.”

“I sort of thought it was obvious,” you shrug and tap your knee against his, “I wasn’t supposed to be out in the middle of a campground, much less learning the ways of a rogue.”

“What were you supposed to be?”

“A wife, I guess.”

“And while I’m sure suitors everywhere are devastated, I much prefer my rogue.”

My. You don’t say anything and neither does he. You let the word hang there, testing to see if he reaches back to grab it, but he doesn’t. It gets quiet for a moment after that, and you can see him spinning the illusion in his head. You, swathed in organza, spinning around a marble ballroom, entertaining suitors.

“Is that why you danced with Wyll?”

“Ah,” you smile and rest your head on his shoulder. You love these fleeting moments of intimacy, where you can both pretend to be nothing more than lovers on an adventure. “So this was spurred by jealousy?”

“As if I have anything to be jealous over Wyll. He wishes he looked half as good as me.” His words lack their normal bite, and he turns his head softly, so he’s speaking quietly, just to you. “But perhaps in the future you’d let me take you for a spin.”

You press your hand against his on the ground. “You need only ask.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

There’s so much more you both want to say, confessions on the precipice of both your minds, but you say nothing. You idle together a touch longer, hands resting against each other, pretending neither of you can get hurt, envisioning a world where it’s him spinning you across the dance floor in a world where you could have each other.

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion romance

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 3 months

Text

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 1

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC) other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Not much in this first chapter. Some mentions of death and violence. I don't want to give away everything, but there are also some angsty mother/daughter moments, so be warned.

Word Count: 3468

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

The divider at the top and bottom were created by @saradika

Dean punched open the flap of the canvas tent that he'd called home for the last several years. Sometimes he really missed having a door to slam.

Or a wall to punch a hole through, he thought as he tossed down his duffel bag full of weapons. At least the bag made a satisfying thunk against the plywood floor.

They'd lost three men on their latest raid. The raid was successful; they'd pilfered enough medication from a pharmacy in Omaha to see them through the next few months. But the reason it was the only pharmacy within a two hundred mile radius that had any meds left, was because it also happened to be Croat central.

It was swarming with the bastards. His soldiers had done a good job holding them off, but it had eventually led to ground fighting and three soldiers had been bitten. He'd put them down quick and quiet. But it made for a long drive home.

Home, he scoffed as he dropped onto the side of his cot. Home my ass.

As he rubbed his hand across his forehead, his tent flap opened again. He also missed privacy.

One of the soldiers that had been left behind to protect the camp, stood awkwardly for a moment before Dean barked at him.

“Not now, Johnston.”

“Uh…” the man hemmed and hawed for a moment more. “There's a…an urgent situation, sir.”

Dean let out a huff. “There's always an urgent fucking situation. I said ‘not now’!” Dean's voice was sharp and angry. All he wanted was five minutes.

Used to having his orders obeyed, especially when they were issued in his harshest tone, Dean turned away and started to light the lamp beside his cot. Before he could spark the match however, Johnston was clearing his throat annoyingly.

“Jesus Christ, what?” Dean snapped.

“I'm sorry, sir…but Castiel, well he…he has a…a situation with a woman.”

Dean’s glare could melt ice. “What woman?”

“I think…he wants - he said he wanted to see you as soon as you were back.”

Dean ground his teeth together and tossed down the matchbook. He gestured angrily for Johnston to lead the way.

He followed the timid man through a maze of tents, aware of the eyes that followed him. He was used to that feeling. People in the camp always looked at him like that - with a mixture of awe and fear on their faces. To most of the survivors he was a little bit legend, a little bit savior, and a whole lot scary.

He was always given a wide berth.

But something more was in the air today. The evening breeze seemed to be buzzing with whispers that followed him up the stairs and into the main hall. It was one of the only wooden structures in the camp, and definitely the biggest. It was where they all gathered together when they needed to.

He pushed through the squeaky door to find the angel standing in the middle of the room, just in front of one of the dozen massive, twenty-person, metal tables that had been constructed for large group projects like bomb making, or supply divvying.

Dean tried to look past Cas when it became obvious there was a person behind him, sitting on the floor. But Cas just shifted so he couldn't see whoever it was, which only made Dean’s scowl intensify. Cas held out his hands towards him.

“Okay, Dean. now just listen.”

Dean didn’t like the sound of that, or the placating tone the angel was taking. “What the fuck is going on here, Cas?” He tried again to peer around him at the person on the floor, but Cas shifted his footing again to keep them hidden.

“You have to…before you do anything, just,,,you have to look at her. Really look.”

He moved out of the way slightly and Dean could finally see a woman sitting on the ground. Her head was bent and around her wrists were manacles connected to heavy chains that yoked her to the immoveable table. Dean was about to once again ask what the hell was going on when the woman looked up at him and he saw her eyes - saw the perfect, blood red circle around her iris.

Dean’s razor sharp instincts reacted without conscious thought, and his gun was out of his thigh holster and cocked, with his finger ready to pull the trigger in under two seconds. It was only Cas jumping in front of the woman again that managed to just stop him firing.

But Dean kept his gun pointing at the woman’s head, even though it was now hidden on the other side of the angel's body.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” He bellowed at the man who used to be his best friend, back when he still had friends. “She’s infected! Get out of the fucking way!”

Cas had his hands up again and was shaking his head. “No, Dean, look at her. Yes, her eyes show she should be infected, and yes she was bitten, but…just look at her. She’s not infected.”

Dean’s jaw ticked with his fury. “Yeah well, give it a couple hours and she’ll be strong enough to bust those fucking chains. Now, move!” He roared again.

But Cas took a step backwards, closer to the woman on the ground. “No, it’s been days.” He looked over his shoulder. “Right?”

The woman’s voice was soft. “Almost a week.”

Dean scoffed. “Bullshit!” He shouted, unable to believe the angel’s naivete. “She’s lying.”

Cas was shaking his head and looking at Dean again. “Her arm, where she was bitten, it’s healed up.” He called back to her. “Hold your arm out.”

The chains rattled and Dean saw a slightly grubby arm stick out from behind Cas’ legs. Sure enough there was a bite on the outside of her forearm that looked pretty much healed. Dean felt something uncertain shift in his belly, but he shook it off. He knew better.

“So she’s a quick healer. She’ll still turn into a monster sooner or later. Now. Move.” He gave Cas a glare that had made lesser men crumble. But the angel refused.

“No, Dean, this might be something huge.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but the woman’s small voice spoke first. “Please. I just needed to get my daughter to safety.”

Dean leveled another glare at Cas. “Daughter?” He asked.

The woman continued speaking and Dean tried to see any part of her around Cas’ body. “We were living in the Billings camp near Piedmont, Emma and I. We’d been there just a few months when the camp was attacked. They lost a lot of people, and I got bitten. When the fighting ended and the Croats were all dead, the leaders started checking us all for bites. I knew they were going to kill me and I understood what had to happen, but I wanted them to promise Emma would be safe, but they wouldn’t.”

Dean’s hand had lowered slightly, enough that Cas shifted aside again so Dean could see the woman talking. There were tears falling from her bloodshot eyes and she lifted the heavy chains so she could wipe them away before continuing.

“She'd fallen on some debris in the mess, long after the Croats had been put down, and she had a scratch on her leg. They were sure she was infected too. But she’s not.” She shook her head vehemently. “They were going to kill her. I…I couldn’t let them. So I shoved them down, fought them off, grabbed Emma and ran. We’ve been running for almost a week. I’d heard about this camp, so I headed this way. I was terrified I was going to change before I could get Emma to some semblance of safety. But…it just never happened.”

She shrugged and shifted slightly. Her movement brought the barrel of Dean’s gun back up a fraction of an inch. She stared at the pistol for a moment and then caught his eye again. “I just wanted somewhere for her to be safe. I understand that you want me dead. I’m…” Her throat caught and she closed her eyes and took in a deep, steadying breath. “But….” She opened her eyes again and a slight smile curved her lips.

“You don’t…you probably don’t remember me, but a long time ago - I was barely sixteen - you…you saved me.”

Dean knew he must not have hidden his surprise very well when her smile deepened. It occurred to Dean in that moment that she was really, remarkably beautiful, in spite of the dirt and the bloodshot eyes.

“My family I mean,” she continued, “you saved my family. You and your dad. We lived in Wichita at the time. We had a poltergeist. It was…it was cutting me. It carved words into me.” She put a hand on her stomach. “Words like ‘vengeance’ and ‘death’.”

She shook her head. “I was so terrified. But you and John, you just swept in and got rid of the thing in a weekend. It was amazing.”

The long-forgotten case bubbled up in Dean’s mind. It felt separate from him, apart, as though centuries had passed in between, instead of a dozen years. But he remembered a young girl, a sweet kid with braces on her teeth and overwhelming fear in her eyes. He nodded. Yes, he remembered that smile now.

She wore it still as she shook her head and looked down. “It was a long time ago, a lifetime seems like, so I’m sure you don’t remember. But I still remember how Dean Winchester came and saved me.” She looked up at him again and her tears had returned. “So, I’m asking you to please, please save me again.”

Dean felt the same something as before, something that shifted in his gut, that felt tight and constricting. But he pushed it away and shook his head.

“You’re wrong, Y/N.” He said, as her name came back to him. He could see the surprise on her face. “I do remember you. I remember the poltergeist. I remember your family, your house. And I remember saving you.”

He paused and let the memories retreat from his mind’s eye before he clenched his jaw. “But you’re right, it was a lifetime ago,” he shook his head, “and I’m not that guy anymore.”

He raised his gun and took a step forward aiming for a quick, straight bullet to the head, faster than blinking.

But as though time slowed down, he saw a blur of motion coming in from the side and several things happened at the exact same time. Y/N screamed and dove as far to the right as her chains would allow, Cas jumped forward to stop him, and Dean yanked his gun up at the very last millisecond before his finger flexed on the trigger, just as he saw the blur come into focus.

It was a sobbing, shaking little girl, in a tattered blue dress. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a braid and tied with a faded piece of lace. Y/N had leapt towards the child to shield her as the little one had flung herself in front of her mother. Y/N was now cradling her daughter in her arms.

Cas kept his hand like a vice grip on Dean’s shoulder where he’d grabbed him in an attempt to stop him. Though he wouldn’t have reached him in time. A feeling surged through Dean that he hadn’t felt in a long time as he breathed in and out harshly, as though he’d run a mile.

Two of his soldiers, Risa and Patrick, ran in seconds later, ashen faced and staring at the little girl. Dean yelled at them. “Why the fuck did you let her in here?”

Risa shook her head. “She got away from us.”

“Got away from you?” He continued to shout. “She’s a little girl!”

When they didn't respond he gritted his teeth and spoke through them. “Why don’t you go see if you can handle all forty pounds of her this time.” He said, motioning with his gun for them to go get her.

As they moved to follow his orders he acknowledged what it was that had his heart beating triple time and his lungs unable to suck in enough air.

It was fear. The forgotten, acidic taste of it was on his tongue. It had been a very long time since he’d been afraid of anything. But knowing he’d been less than a second away from firing a bullet into the body of an innocent, uninfected kid - that truth had him rattled. As did Emma’s heart-rending cries as she clung to her mother.

Risa and Patrick had reached Y/N, but looked hesitant to rip the child away from her mother. Y/N was pulling on Emma’s arms and she finally managed to unlock their death grip from around her neck.

“Baby, shh.” She said softly as she brushed the little girl’s wispy hairs out of her face and cupped her ruby red cheeks. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re gonna be safe - “

Emma cut her off with a wail. “Noooo! Noooo! Mommy, I don’t wanna go.”

Y/N was shaking her head. “Hey, hey. No, sweetheart listen, listen to me. We made it here and now you’re safe.” She began nodding as Emma shook her head. “Yes, baby. Look at me, look at me, just breathe.” She said, and Emma began sucking in shuddering, choking breaths.

Y/N smiled and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “You are so brave. Okay? I just need you to keep being so brave. Can you do that? Hmm?” Y/N questioned, nodding even though Emma was shaking her head in denial.

Dean caught Patrick’s eye and gave a sharp nod towards the horrifying scene. He needed them to get the kid out of there. Patrick nodded back, but still didn’t move to take her. Dean seethed.

“I love you so much.” Y/N said, her voice breaking now, but she cleared her throat quickly and continued. “I love you bigger than big.” She was staring into her daughter’s eyes. “Bigger than big.” She repeated.

“And taller than tall?” Emma asked in a strangled voice, obviously repeating an often used sentiment.

Y/N was nodding. “And taller than tall.” She confirmed. She gave her daughter a final smile of encouragement, her palms still clasped on her flushed, wet cheeks. “You - are my little angel.” She told her before pulling her against her chest one more time, trying to squeeze a lifetime of love into the small body she held.

Dean tried to keep his features in check as Y/N looked up at him. He wouldn’t bend. She needed to get her kid out of there. Y/N sniffed and pulled back from Emma. “Okay, baby. You need to go with…”

She looked up at Risa, obviously looking for a name. “Risa.” The soldier replied kindly.

Y/N gave her a grateful smile and directed her words up at her. “Go with Risa, she’ll look out for you.” It was obviously a question for the other woman, a plea. Risa gave a curt nod of agreement.

Emma was still sobbing as Y/N lifted her out of her lap and let Risa take her away. The little girl screamed and reached back for her mother and Dean saw the way Y/N flinched as she raised her manacled wrist and pressed her fingers to her lips before sending a parting kiss to her daughter.

As the child disappeared her screams still echoed, and Y/N slumped, covering her face, her shoulders shaking.

Dean swallowed down the feelings that tried to rise in him as he watched her weep. Every person who died left someone behind to grieve them. If they were lucky. And this situation was no different. Their camp had more than a dozen orphaned kids. Emma would be no different.

But as Y/N took a shuddering breath and looked up at him, he knew he was lying. Her words to Emma had resonated in his memory, pulling forth the image of his mother’s warm hands on his cheeks after he sought to comfort her, told her he loved her and would never leave her.

“You - are my little angel.” She’d said, her voice full of love.

And another moment, in the dark, cuddled against his mother’s chest as she held him after a nightmare, just days before the fire. Her voice had been so gentle, so soft.

“I know you’re scared, Dean, and that’s okay. Cause I know you’re so brave too. Can you show me how brave you are?”

Y/N’s last words to her daughter echoed some of the last words he remembered from his mother and he would be lying if he said it wasn’t affecting him. But as Y/N stared up at him, he tried desperately to shake it off. It changed nothing.

Y/N’s voice cracked as she tried to speak; she cleared it before trying again. “Thank you, Dean. For keeping her here, for giving her somewhere safe to be.”

Dean shook his head. “Nowhere is somewhere safe to be.”

He could see Y/N’s fear spring back up, and he shrugged. “But she can stay here, and have the protection of the camp. For whatever that’s worth.”

Y/N nodded and closed her eyes. “Thank you.” She repeated in a whisper, and then, without opening her eyes, “I’m ready.”

Cas gripped his shoulder again. “Dean, don’t do this.” He said, his low voice barely a whisper.

Dean shrugged off his hand and stepped closer to Y/N, close enough that he couldn’t possibly miss, so that it would be instant and painless.

He felt Cas’ disappointment and anger looming over him as he extended his arm. The muzzle of the gun was less than two feet from its target. Dean cocked it again and felt his stomach swoop at Y/N’s soft, quick inhale.

His finger caressed the trigger, a breath away from pulling it when from nowhere his little brother’s voice floated into his mind, a snippet of conversation he hadn’t thought of in almost a decade - from the first time they’d ever seen the virus.

“You know I’m gonna ask you why.” Sam had said, referring to the man Dean had left alive.

“Yeah, I know.”

“So, why? Why didn’t you do it?”

He hadn’t answered his brother then; he’d been too embarrassed to say that there had been something in his soul that wouldn’t let him shoot someone who wasn't yet a monster, even if it seemed inevitable that they would be.

But now, that same creeping feeling, that same cloying sense of wrong was pulling at his soul again. It shocked him and angered him that his soul was still capable of this dithering - this pansy-assed wavering - when his head knew without a doubt what had to be done.

With the same sick, frustrated feeling, however, Dean felt his arm drop. “Dammit.” He growled, just as he had then.

He backed away and saw Y/N’s eyes pop open, saw relief flood them just before he turned and stormed away. He barreled out of the cabin and heard Cas shout after him. But he kept marching forward, trying to get himself far away from the memories that had come there to haunt him.

But with every step away from camp, with every inch he walked into the surrounding forest, his mother and brother’s faces became clearer in his mind until he finally just stopped abruptly. Giving a shout of pure fury, Dean pointed his gun at the dead leaves on the ground and unloaded his clip into the moist earth.

He was panting, teeth clenched, as he sensed someone approaching. He whirled around, instinctively pointing his empty gun towards the noise. But he immediately put it down when he saw it was Cas.

Instead he walked up to him and shoved the angel backwards; though even with his powers gone, he didn’t move very far.

“Don’t fucking follow me.” Dean growled at him.

But Cas just stared at him and then a smile spread across his face. Dean scowled thunderously. “What the fuck could you possibly be smiling about?”

Cas shook his head and shrugged. “I just… thought he was gone, but he’s still there. Haven’t seen him in a long time.’

Dean’s expression was confused and pissed. “Thought who was gone?”

“My friend - Dean Winchester. I thought he was well and truly gone.” He repeated. “But it’s so good to see him again.” The angel’s brilliant blue eyes were beaming so bright, they almost seemed to be alight with grace once more.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@akshi8278

@evznackles

@jackles010378

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

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#dean winchester #endverse!dean x reader #endverse!dean #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #endverse #spn fan fiction series #the dangers of hope

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 9 months

Text

Don't knock it till you try it

Masterlist

Pairing: Syverson x reader x Walter Marshall (technically college AU. I needed to make the road trip scenario plausible.)

Summary: Your friends Walter and Sy have offered to drive you home for the summer, and you have decided to turn it into a nice relaxed camping trip on the way...

Word count: 9146 (yes, really...)

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (vaginal, anal - f receiving), oral sex (f and m receiving), penetrative sex (vaginal, anal, DP - f receiving), masturbation (f), smug and dirty talking Sy, sex in a tent, hint of a size kink (blink and you miss it), silly bets, and an astonishingly solid bromance. I think that's all, but call me if I missed any.

A/N: I've finally really stopped hurting the boys and now we're just going for some nice relaxed sex in a goddamn tent, dammit! Also yeah I'm going to keep imagining the boys in college until the day I die, I don't know why (maybe because I'm young), but just... idk, read it as a memory or something? idk :')

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

You were not – by a long shot – the first girl to see the backseat of the beat-up chevy pickup you were sitting in. Fact. A fact so factual, in fact, that Sy hadn’t complained when you demanded he put a blanket down for you to sit on, which told you more than you really wanted to know.

Now, your eyes kept drifting shut to the sound of tires on asphalt and the bickering of soothing baritone voices in the front seat. The outside world consisted of mountain views and clear blue skies, and the fresh breeze of early summer that worked just hard enough to raise goosebumps on skin, but inside this rusty old vehicle the atmosphere was dominated by two pairs of broad shoulders, deep voices, and what you always mockingly referred to as ‘disgusting man sweat’ – always hoping neither of them would ever find out how often you dreamt of licking those salty droplets off their abs after a workout.

Both of them had shown up, first semester, in a class they didn’t have a prayer of passing, and you’d been teamed up with them because of what you then thought to be a hideous trick of fate. Somehow, you whipping them into shape for that tutorial hadn’t put them off you, and what started as whatever the educational equivalent of ‘frenemies’ is, turned into study buddies and eventually friends. The only downside to your friendship was that you chronically had to explain to your entire dorm that, no, you weren’t sleeping with either of them – let alone both of them.

As you still toed the line between asleep and awake, a heavy hand on your knee – belonging to Walter – made a decision for you in favor of consciousness.

“We’re hungry,” he said.

“You’re always hungry,” you grumbled as you reached for the bag of food and snacks on the other side of the backseat. It was a good thing they didn’t bother to deny it, because you would have strangled them both. God forbid you ever left a bag of Doritos out in your dorm. Seconds! Gone!

Sy had the stones to ask for a tuna sandwich. Absolutely the fuck not!

“I’m not opening that bag in this car, Sy.” It already smelled like stale beer and weed in there. Not in a bad way, but in a ‘you’re not allowed to smoke on campus, so this is our only option’ way. That said, adding tuna to the mix would be a complete disaster.

“Suit yourself,” he snapped. You rolled your eyes. For the love of God, it was all of ten minutes past feeding time! Walter snickered as he held out a hand. Turkey on wheat for Walter, BLT for Sy, mozzarella pesto for you. You’d splurged on groceries, because the boys had offered to take the lion’s share of the drive.

“We were thinkin’ of callin’ it a day soon, sugar.” They’d had morning classes, and you were falling asleep while on snack-duty… Plus, you’d agreed to just take it easy the whole drive. It was summer; there was no need to rush home.

Sy pulled off the highway, quickly ending the smooth, rhythmic hum of the tires on the road, until the asphalt finally made way for the crackling of gravel. Without Sy, you never would have found the campsite at which you pulled over. Camping ran through that guy’s veins, as you could tell from the impressive amount of camping gear in the bed of the pickup – all his.

Even though he helped you get out of the truck, you still lost your footing and stumbled into him, leaving Walter grinning to the side of the spectacle, commenting on your horrible clumsiness.

“Dunno,” Sy replied with a sly smile. “Guess she’s just fallin’ for me.” The cheesy joke made Walter stop dead in his tracks.

“I think that’s twenty-five,” he deadpanned, looking at you. In a less-than-sober state, somewhere in the past year, you had made a deal: if either of them managed to make that joke twenty-five times before the end of the year, you’d… Alright, let the records show that when you made that bet, you had been entirely convinced they’d never take you up on the offer to let them kiss you. But they had.

“You’re not gonna hold me to what I said back then, are you?” you asked in a small voice, your cheeks so hot you could probably fry an egg on them. The door of the truck slammed shut behind you, and Sy slowly stepped forward, forcing you to step back, until you were backed up against the truck, with him leaning over you – completely caged in between his solid body and the car.

“Deal’s a deal, sugar.” There was no trace of his usual grin, no hint of the mischievous glint in his eyes that normally told you he was kidding. He just came closer and closer as your eyes went wide – Walter did nothing. Jackass.

Not that kissing Sy was something you didn’t want. Oh no! In fact, it was something a fairly large part of you wanted so badly you thought you might burst. On some days, being close to either of them – let alone both – was torture, where your heart raced every time they came near you, and you unconsciously held your breath when they touched you… And while the guys just freely admitted to having sex dreams about you, you kept the little nugget of truth that you had similar dreams about them, tightly under wraps. Not because you thought they’d tease you about it, or anything, just… No, wait, actually that’s exactly why you didn’t tell them.

A few more seconds passed in which your heart tried its best to jump out of your chest.

“This isn’t funny, Sy,” you snapped on a sharp exhale when his mouth curled at the corners into that signature smirk you loved to hate. Finally able to gather your thoughts as well as your strength, you put your hands on his chest and pushed. It was a good thing he let you go, because if he had decided to stay put, you wouldn’t have stood a chance in hell.

“I want my kiss, sugar,” he called after you as you paced away to… alright, you didn’t actually know where you were going, but away, at least. “One way or another.”

As pissed – or confused – as you were, this was ‘the outdoors’ and therefore absolutely not the type of environment you were well equipped for in any kind of way, thus you decided it was best to stay close – within earshot, at least – to the boys. But they could take care of unpacking and pitching tents and whatever the fuck else needed doing.

“Hey.” Sy sat down next to you on the rock you had claimed, and put an arm around you. This was oddly comfortable, especially compared to the tense situation by the car, earlier. “I was messin’ with ya back there, you know that, right?” Whether it was to make a point, or simply because Walter wasn’t watching – or maybe because the threatening wall of man from before was now your familiar gentle giant again, you had no idea, but you impulsively reached for Sy and kissed him on the cheek. A low chuckle escaped him, and he pulled you closer.

“There’s a trail up to a waterfall we maybe wanted to check out, you in? Easy hike.” The good thing about hanging out with the guys was that they really considered your level of… adventurous ineptitude. If they suggested this hike, it meant they were at least medium convinced you could actually make it there and back in one piece – or that they could make it at least halfway with you on their backs.

The hike led up to a beautiful, clear river, and a spectacular waterfall. Between the smell of the woods, the sun comfortably warm on your skin, and the phenomenal view, this hike had been more than worth it – never mind that you were all sticky and sweaty from trying to keep up with the guys and their superhuman pace.

“On the way back, can we please remember that I have little legs?” you complained as you sank down onto the rock at the river bank the boys had selected to eat yet another sandwich on. Sy hummed, finally contently munching on the tuna sandwich you’d denied him in the car, and Walter laughed. You sat in silence while your friends ate their food, which meant the rock inevitably became too boring for your limited attention span.

What started off as a relatively sure-footed expedition over the rocks that stuck out of the water, inevitably ended with your very accurate portrayal of a soaking wet person regretting most – if not all – of their life choices. Sy sighed and rolled his eyes as he swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, taking his sweet time to get up and make his way over to you to fish you out of the water – which he then called ‘refreshing’ instead of ‘freezing fucking cold’. That didn’t improve your mood. Next, Walter had to dive for your phone – which, luckily, could swim, but was still going to be next to useless to you at the bottom of this far-deeper-than-anticipated vein of icy death.

Shivering, covered in goosebumps and with chattering teeth, you stood on the bank of the river.

“Take your shirt off,” Walter commanded, plucking his own off the dry rock.

“What?” you stammered, staring at him in disbelief. Now, that alone would have been just fine, if your eyes hadn’t dropped from his face to his chest. Small droplets of water dripped from his hair and beard onto his shoulders and chest and… somehow trickled down his body in slow motion. If they knew how much willpower it took to lift your eyes to his again, they would never let you live it down. Sy repeated his words from a distance – there went your excuse that Walter had just been talking too softly. Sy was still up to his knees in the river, unbothered by the cold, just hanging out there as if that water didn’t rival the fucking arctic ocean for temperature.

As you looked at him, he started to walk back to the riverside. The sun was starting to set, changing the light in a way that made it look like Sy, much like those fucking drops of water, was moving in slow motion, flecks of sunlight dancing over his skin… These guys were distracting enough when they were dry and dressed, but now that they were wet and half naked, with damp, coarse curls sticking to their chest and abs, catching the water that dripped down from their heads… These boys were fucking with your head. Big time.

“Sugar, take off your shirt, please,” Sy repeated when he stood next to you. “You’re freezin’, let’s get you a dry t-shirt, at least.” Oh. So, they weren’t putting the moves on you. Good to know. Hopefully, your exasperated sigh didn’t give away any of the disappointment you felt. With a little help from Walter, you lifted your soaking top over your head, not caring that they saw you in your bra until it was already too late. Sy used his t-shirt to dry you off a bit, before handing you Walter’s to put on. The whole time, they kept their eyes in decent places, and their hands didn’t wander anywhere they shouldn’t. Now, why did that make you feel sad?

“We should head back,” Walter said – mostly to Sy. The sun disappeared rather quickly, and without the heat from it, that dry t-shirt – save for the two tit-shaped wet spots where your soaked bra touched it – didn’t do much to keep you warm.

By the time you made it back to the campsite, you were shivering again. The walk had done next to nothing to warm you, and your still wet jean shorts chafed painfully against your thighs. Not to mention your thighs were starting to chafe painfully against your thighs. So, the first thing you did was disappear into the tiny single tent that was meant for you – as you had made it abundantly clear that sharing a tent with the boys was out of the question – and change into something dry, warm, and comfortable. The guys did the same, although – as it turns out – their version of ‘warm’ included no shirts. Did they ever get cold?

It was tough enough to keep your eyes off Sy in cargo shorts – although Walter in jeans was just as much of a sight for sore eyes – but now that it was getting dark, the sweats came out to play. You silently thanked Walter for his choice of black sweatpants, because keeping your thoughts out of the gutter was hard enough already. Sy was shamelessly sporting a pair of grey sweats, filling them out just about as nicely as humanly possible as he sat there, getting a fire started. The sly glances and that godforsaken smirk he flung your way from time to time told you that he was more than aware that you were checking him out.

The heat from the fire alone wasn’t enough to warm you up. Sy’s solution was tequila – which helped, but not quite enough, so Walter wrapped you in a blanket, pulling you close to his side as he ran his hands over your arms in an attempt to stop your shivering. At the same time, Sy inched closer, and before you knew it, four arms were wrapped around you.

Apart from being hot, proverbially, these guys were hot in the literal sense, too, warming you up slightly more effectively than the blanket around your shoulders and moderate amount of alcohol in your system. Still, the icy temperatures from the ground you were sitting on seeped into you without mercy. Of course, the boys took notice, both getting the same idea, and each grabbing one of your legs to try and pull you into their respective laps. Needless to say; it didn’t work, and you just ended up with spread legs, sitting between them on the floor. Sy had that twinkle in his eye, that smirk on his face that was dripping with confidence and indecency… You had to get out of there before he could speak!

As you scrambled to your feet, mumbling something about getting another blanket for yourself to sit on, you tripped and fell into Walter’s lap. Of course! You had been keeping score on that bet as well, and you knew you had come here – fucking camping – with both of the guys stuck on twenty-four counts of the same lame fucking joke… This was your fault, really.

To your surprise, however, Walter said nothing – instead, he smiled politely, pulling you into a more comfortable position in his lap.

“You’ve earned it,” you whispered, although you had absolutely no idea why. Maybe because it was the truth, maybe because you just wanted this bet to be over. Either way, it hurt you that he didn’t make the dumb joke, and asked to collect his reward the way Sy had. Hoping to get up before Walter looked into your eyes – where your thoughts were no doubt displayed for everyone to see – you made a move that was entirely too advanced for your mediocre balance and agility, and you crashed down again, this time falling harder than before. As Walter grunted, panic shot through you…

“Darling, I’d ask you if it hurt when you fell from heaven, but so far the only person who got hurt in that process, is me,” he blurted out in a strangled voice, while Sy was losing it next to you, howling from laughter.

Was it the booze? The fire? The tension from this afternoon? The fact that you were sitting in his lap, with his hands maybe a tad too low on your hips, but high enough to not rouse suspicion? Or maybe just your complete lack of self-control? Whatever it was, it caused you to move to straddle his thighs, and without thinking about it for so much as a second, you kissed him. If you’d had a sliver of hope before that Walter would break the kiss after an at least semi-decent amount of time, it was gone now, because the hand on your hip pulled you tighter against him, and his other hand tangled in your hair.

Walter kissed you. It took far more effort than you had ever expected to really let that sink in, but at the same time there was no way around it. He was kissing you, and it was eager, and rough, accompanied by ragged breaths and the occasional moan. It managed to make you forget everything around you. Everything except for Sy – mainly because he let out a pained grunt just as you were about to stick your tongue down Walter’s throat.

“I got a kiss on the cheek, man,” he groaned as he leaned in slightly on one elbow.

Now, if you had been thinking clearly, you would have laughed it off, gotten up and gone to bed. Safe to say, you were not thinking clearly.

Sy’s mouth felt just as good on yours as Walter’s had, with similarly soft lips, a similarly coarse beard scraping your skin, and a similar roughness to him that only wound you tighter. You moaned, your hips unconsciously grinding into Walter’s, his growing hard-on providing extra friction to soothe the ache between your legs. When you briefly opened your eyes to see if Sy was as involved in this as you were, you saw him palm his own erection through his sweats – casually adjusting its position before focusing on you again. In that moment – timed perfectly with a moan from Walter – something inside of you snapped.

“I’m going to bed,” you stuttered as you broke the kiss with Sy, at the same time scrambling to get to your feet – this time succeeding without falling into anyone, and making it to your own tent without a hitch. ‘

Now, if it had been a sober conversation, and it hadn’t been in the middle of nowhere without a sound to be heard for miles other than crickets, the occasional owl, and the crackling of the fire, at least half of it would have been inaudible from where you had pitched your tents. But the boys were too drunk, and their voices too deep and dark – the sound just traveled too far. You could have ignored them. You could have turned around, pulled your sleeping bag over your ears, and pretended to be asleep until it became the truth. Instead, you listened, sometimes straining to understand what they were saying.

“So, who do we say got her first?”

“I’m asking for a do-over.”

“Because it was me?”

“We could just… Y’know…”

“Think she’d go for it?”

“What, both of us? My ex did…”

“But she was nuts.”

“Hey! Okay, fair enough.”

Both of them? Both of them? As in… Separately? Or… Oh, what the fuck did it matter! The answer was yes.

What surprised you most about your thoughts was how completely unsurprised you were by them. Somehow, the idea of sleeping with both Sy and Walter felt as natural as could be, and left you not only stumped, but with another problem that needed tending to…

Without thinking, you slid your hand down your body, and into your sweatpants. Kissing the boys had definitely had its effect on you, you had known that as soon as it had happened, but the extent of the mess between your thighs was still quite surprising. Somehow, tasting both of them, followed by your eavesdropping, had made you dripping wet and craving something more than just your fingers. Unfortunately, they’d have to do.

You thought of that first kiss with Walter, then the one with Sy, then wondered what it would feel like to have those beards scratch the skin of your neck, slowly making their way down to your chest. Would they lick? Bite? Moan? You pictured Sy, eagerly making his way further down, while Walter kept his attention on your chest. Would he be as quiet as he always was? Was Sy as loud as you imagined him to be?

There were so many things to wonder about, besides the obvious size question, that the thoughts consumed you completely as you worked yourself up to your peak. So completely, in fact, that you didn’t hear the guys return to the tents – just as you squealed from pleasure while you came. Hard.

“Fuck, sugar,” Sy said from outside. Walter warned him to stop talking, but he didn’t listen. “Tell me if you want any help.”

It was tempting to say ‘yes’. It was tempting to crawl into that tent and tell them you had heard everything they said by the fire. It was tempting to offer yourself up on a silver platter, hoping they’d make good on their promises from before by fucking the life out of you. But things that are tempting can also still be difficult, so you did nothing. Well, nothing… If ‘dying of embarrassment’ counts as ‘something’, you were definitely not doing nothing.

The sound of your own teeth chattering prevented you from falling asleep, even though you could hardly keep your eyes open. And who knew goosebumps could hurt like this? The boys had warned you beforehand that it would get cold at night, and you’d even told Sy what you had planned on wearing as pajamas, and he’d said you’d be good. Well, you weren’t good. You were covered from head to toe, and you were not – by any definition of the word – ‘good’.

As hard and painful as it was to just lay there and freeze, it was harder to get up, worm your double-socked feet into your sneakers and get out of your tent. Outside, it was pitch black, and the dim light of your phone was barely enough to prevent you from falling flat on your face. You had to credit the boys with their incredible foresight to keep the path from your tent to theirs free of tripping hazards – something you were so delighted in at that moment that you forgot to question whether or not there was some sort of ploy, or whatever in place. Lewd scheme or not, you were glad to make it without a hitch.

“Eh, guys?” you whispered after zipping open the tent and poking your head in.

“Hm? What?” It was Walter – and from Sy’s continued snoring, you deduced that you shouldn’t wait for him to answer; he wasn’t waking up.

“I’m really fucking cold,” you admitted reluctantly. That seemed to wake Walter up a little more…

“Cold? You could go on an expedition to the north pole dressed the way you are!” The sleep-drunk slur of his voice was… adorable, in a way. To his left – no, his right… To his left from where you were standing? The left side of the air-mattress they were on when you looked at it, standing at the foot of the bed, the right side if you were actually lying in… oh for fuck’s sake! Next to him, Sy groaned and turned – although you couldn’t see any of that, because it was very dark.

“The fuck is going on?” he grunted, his voice gravelly and dark – which did a good job of making your knees weak.

“She’s cold,” Walter replied dryly.

“There’s no way,” Sy said in disbelief, “she’s dressed for winter in Alaska.”

“If you two are done mocking me, I’m actually freezing my ass off out here. Do you have an extra blanket or something?” you snapped.

“Sugar, we’re not even wearin’ shirts,” Sy said, his voice steadier now that he was waking up.

“Great, so you put on a shirt, and I’ll take your sleeping bag.” It was a shame they couldn’t see you roll your eyes, but the snippy tone would surely get your point across.

“Or you could just come here, love,” Walter said all of a sudden. There was rustling in the tent and then a dim red light over your heads turned on.

“Interesting choice…” you started, but Walter and Sy chuckled.

“It’s easier on your eyes, sugar.” Shit, Sy was easy on your eyes, god damn. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the way he casually lounged on that fucking mattress right now, with that arm behind his head, eyes half shut…

Walter was sitting up, holding a hand out to you, waiting patiently until you had zipped open the door further – which took so long that he ended up helping you with it. As you got in, he got out, and for a moment you were scared he would offer to leave you with Sy while he took your tent, but after a while he returned holding your backpack and sleeping bag.

The bed was a bit small for the three of you, especially since the guys were so bulky, but you managed to make it work. The only thing was… shivering in between them was hardly more comfortable than shivering by yourself, and now there wasn’t enough space to curl up into a ball and hope for the best.

“Sugar, stop squirmin’, c’mere.” Sy’s strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close, when up until now you’d been trying desperately not to touch either of them. “Alright, I take it back, she is freezin’.” A gesture to Walter you could feel but not see, made him scooch over, too, until his body was flush against yours.

Your heart raced in your throat when warm hands slipped underneath your hoodie, stroking your side and – eventually – your stomach. Somewhere down the line, you forgot how to breathe properly, taking in shallow breaths, hoping the guys wouldn’t notice. Of course, they did, because they were inches away from you.

“You should take this off, sugar,” Sy mumbled into your ear. Every muscle in your body tensed up at the suggestion, and it felt like the air was knocked out of your lungs.

“C-can’t,” you stammered, “I’m not… eh… I’m not wearing a bra.”

“Fairly sure we’ve seen a pair of tits before, love,” Walter replied, right at the time Sy muttered ‘neither are we’, making you laugh. Somehow, all of this seemed innocent – or rather; you were convincing yourself it felt innocent, and any subtext and undertones were a figment of your imagination, instead, when in fact, it was far more likely that it was exactly the other way around…

“Not mine,” you protested, biting your lip as a third hand, belonging to Walter, began to roam your back.

“We’re aware of that,” Sy said, his voice dangerously close to your ear. His breath was hot against your cold skin – a sensation that made you shiver.

“In fact, we try not to think about it. It makes us sad,” Walter said, leaning his forehead against yours, sliding his hand down your back and then up your side until his thumb was less than an inch away from the underside of your boobs.

For a moment, the thought that this was just a tactic to actually warm you up flashed through your head, because – in all fairness – it was working. Every part of you was suddenly glowing, breath quick and ragged in anticipation of whatever it was that would come next. What surprised you, though, was how calm they both seemed. Then again, they had already – unknowingly – admitted to having done this before. If that was where this was headed, which you still didn’t quite know for sure… It was as if the guys were both waiting for something. Waiting for… you.

Your lips trembled as you tilted your head up, Walter taking your hint and pressing his lips to yours. Sy pushed your hair out of the way and latched on to your neck. Neither of them went straight to groping you – not more than they had been up until now – but it was only a matter of time before you felt Walter’s hand creep up to your chest. He broke your kiss, his eyes silently asking for permission, which you gave him with the flash of a smile and a slight nod, gasping when his fingers brushed past your nipple. Despite the rising temperatures in the tent – even though most of that was likely just your imagination – the difference between your skin and Walter’s was striking, and you moaned when his warm hand cupped your breast.

Sy was less subtle by about a million degrees, boldly grabbing as much of your other boob as humanly possible – and he had big hands, so you quickly ran out of tit for him to dig his fingers into.

“Can you take it easy,” you blurted out as you laughed in surprise at his – as far as you were concerned – unwarranted enthusiasm.

“Darlin’, I’ve been dreamin’ of these tits for weeks, throw a man a bone.” He groaned when you backed a hip into him the same way you would have if he had been standing next to you.

“Looks like you’re the one throwing me a bone, Syverson,” you teased when you felt his cock push against your ass. It was a horrible joke; Walter laughed, Sy did not – possibly because he was the one on the receiving end of your mockery. Instead, you heard a low, arrogant chuckle in your ear, that told you exactly how he wasn’t going to give you the upper hand.

“I ain’t throwin’ you nothin’, sugar,” he growled, putting a hand on your hip, gripping you tight. “I’m gonna make you fuckin’ beg for it.”

“Promises, promises.” Teasing the boys was fun when you were studying, because you very clearly had a head start in that department, and they would get frustrated, and it was very cute. But now, sandwiched between their bodies, gone was your head start. Any advantage you had over them, in any other way, was useless here. The worst part? They fucking knew it. It was as if they grew bigger and you got smaller, and you were loving every second of it.

Suddenly, the hands underneath your sweater grew impatient, tugging the fabric up until there was no point in keeping it on. Rough hands turned you on your back, which left you staring up at both guys while they raked their eyes over your naked upper body. The knowledge that they were far from unaffected by you graced you with a sense of pride that helped keep doubts and shyness away as you reveled in their attention and the appreciative grunts and moans they let out as they looked at you.

“Fuck,” Walter muttered, licking his lips, completely focused on your bare skin. He scooched closer to you, grinding his hips into your side as he did, and turned your face to his to kiss you.

It was as eager as before, this time with Sy descending, pressing his lips to your neck, exceeding every expectation you had created in your fantasy from before; their lips were softer, their tongues wetter, and the way the coarse hair felt on your skin better than anything you could ever imagine. You whined and squirmed as their hands glided over your body, paying plenty of attention to your boobs, their fingers treating the soft flesh in remarkably similar ways. After a while, they switched places; Sy kissed you, Walter explored your body, making you gasp into Sy’s mouth as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking gently on the hardened little bud while his fingers worked the other.

Eventually, he came back up to kiss you, a situation Sy took advantage of by diving straight back between your boobs, this time sliding his hand down your stomach and into your sweatpants – which is when you grabbed his wrist.

“Stop.” Stern and very effective – not that you were about to give the boys any credit for not assaulting you; that sounded like common fucking decency to you, actually. “Before this goes any further; did either of you, with your infinite wisdom and incredible foresight, pack condoms? Because if not…” Before you finished that sentence, both of them sat up and reached for their bag, leaving you there, taken aback by… You didn’t actually know what had you so shocked about this.

Sy made it back to your side first, tucking a handful of condoms beneath his pillow before laying down again. “Oral?” he asked. It was only half the question, but you understood perfectly. You quickly established that everyone was clean, making the short answer to his half-question ‘without’. Sy responded to that agreement by promptly sliding his hand into your pants, not wasting any more time. His fingers slipped between your folds, and he let out a low chuckle.

“For a moment I was worried you didn’t want this as much as we do,” he growled in your ear. “Guess I was wrong.” One quick, skilled swirl of his finger around your swollen clit made you whine – a sound he clearly found very motivational, because his fingers picked up a steady rhythm. You tried to hide your face in Walter’s neck to cover up the sound of your moans, but he caught you and kissed you instead.

Sy somehow found the time to kiss your neck, your jaw, your ear – sinking his teeth into you ever so slightly, stopping just before he hurt you – while he continued what he was doing. His fingers were absolute magic, making you swear under your breath as he effortlessly slipped two of them inside you. Next, he kissed his way down again, not stopping at your breasts, but continuing over your abs, until he reached your sweatpants, pulling them down eagerly without waiting for your permission. Of course, he had it – and you’d had plenty of time to stop him while he was headed there. It’s just that… That was about the very last thing you wanted.

Next to you, Walter kept busy pressing lazy kisses to your neck and jaw, occasionally pulling away to look at you, while he held you and played with your boobs. A few times you tried to move your hand to the bulge in his sweatpants, but he stopped you every time.

“Would you just...”

“Darling, been there, done that. You’ll be useless to me within seconds.” He nodded towards Sy, who was taking a moment to find a decent position between your legs. You raised your eyebrow at Walter, questioning his words, but he didn’t budge. “I’m gonna wait my turn, love.”

“I know this one,” Sy said, running his fingers over the fabric of your thong. You chuckled – he was right; he’d barged into your room one night while you were changing into whatever you were going to wear out to the club, and he’d seen you in your underwear. This underwear. He took his sweet time taking it off, teasing you with kisses on the inside of your thighs, his beard rough against your sensitive skin, until you were almost begging him to keep going. Finally, he pulled your panties down.

“You were right,” he said to Walter, leaving you to wonder what the fuck… “It is her natural hair color.” Oh. You fought the urge to kick Sy – instead, you lightly squeezed your thighs shut around his head. It didn’t seem to bother him. Quite the opposite, in fact.

The urge disappeared altogether when you – finally – felt his tongue on your pussy. He wasn’t subtle, but damn, he was good. Walter had absolutely had a point; barely ten seconds in and you couldn’t keep your eyes open, let alone focus on anything other than the feeling of Sy’s tongue on your clit. He impatiently spread your legs further while mumbling some very dirty things about how much he wanted to taste you. Involuntarily, you chuckled – causing both guys to stop what they were doing and looking at you in suspicion. Lying was pointless; they knew you well enough by now to effortlessly see through that, and you sighed.

“I… eh…” you stammered, unable to find the words.

“Come on,” Walter said, “if you’ve still got things to hide from us now…” He was right, of course, this wasn’t a position you’d have found yourself in at all if you hadn’t been so comfortable with – and hot for – these guys. Then again, you were already exposed and vulnerable… Why make that worse?

You hid your face in Walter’s neck as you just said what was on your mind without thinking about it: “I always imagined you to be the quiet one and Sy the loud one.”

“Always?” Sy teased you. His usual cocky attitude transferred seemly to the bedroom – or… tent – as it would seem. Except now, for once, you had a decent shot at shutting him the fuck up – although you did have a feeling you were going to like his smug confidence for a change. Sy had been growing out his buzzcut for a few weeks now, which made his hair just about long enough to grab – a fact you used to your advantage when you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled his face back to where you wanted it.

“That’s just going to make it harder to answer the question, darling,” Walter muttered next to you while drawing circles around your nipples with impatient fingers.

“Fuck!” you shrieked as Sy’s tongue hit your clit just right – a note he took to heart, because he didn’t leave that spot again, leaving you wishing that all men were that smart. Because why – for the love of God – did they always change their approach as soon as they found a spot you let them know you really liked? Right… The question at hand… “You really thought it was just the two of you dreaming about me?” They had to be smart enough to figure out what you meant on their own, right? The flustered look on Walter’s face told you enough, as did the deep chuckle and gentle bite on the inside of your thigh.

Apparently fed up with your conversation, Sy doubled down on his efforts, eating you out like a man starved, more chuckles escaping him as he watched you pull his pillow over your face in an attempt to keep quiet. ‘Attempt’ because you still failed quite horribly when he pushed two fingers into your pussy and curled them, finding your g-spot without any effort. The orgasm that followed was the kind of toe-curling, earth-shattering, life-changing thing that made you really mad at yourself for one particular reason…

“Jesus fucking Christ, I should have taken you up on your offer when my useless ex broke up with me,” you moaned as Sy made his way up again, pulling in the pillow that you had haphazardly thrown aside – after you were done screaming, that is – so you could catch your breath. Sy immediately pulled you on top of him, kissing you hard and deep, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. It was something that had always made you feel weird and – if you were being perfectly honest – mildly disgusted when it had been your ex doing it, but there was something about the way Sy had gone down on you, and the way he was kissing you now, something unapologetic, passionate, and enthusiastic, that made you want to kiss him.

In fact, you were just about to commit to the bit when someone – and that someone had to be Walter – grabbed you by your hips and dragged you back until you were on your knees. You tried to lie down again as you heard him rummage around, looking for something – the obvious, really. The smack on your ass made you shriek in surprise, only making you slightly worried that either sound would have been audible well outside the tent.

“Stay there,” Walter’s husky voice commanded. “My turn.” Maybe he was the quiet one, but when he did speak… Oh my! You didn’t dare to move a muscle, leaving you sitting there, exposed as you heard the pretty familiar crinkling of foil. Shortly after, you felt the tip of Walter’s cock glide along the length of your slit. He teased you for a moment before lining himself up and slowly pushing into you. Sy laughed as your eyes went wide, and he grabbed your hand, guiding it to the bulge in his pants. Jackass. As soon as you got a good sense of what he was equipped with, you squealed. Not with any particular emotion in mind, just… Right now, you didn’t know what to think. In fact, Walter was well on his way to at least semi-permanently turning the whole thinking-function of your brain off.

“You alright, love?” Walter asked as he slowly pushed further into you.

“So far so good,” you moaned, “but I hope you’re running out of dick, because I’m running out of places to put it.” Cue roaring laughter from both guys…

“If you ever wonder why we love you,” Sy said, his sentence interrupted by more laughter, “that, right there. That’s why.”

You wanted to respond to that, you really did, but Walter pulling out of you already left you breathless, meaning all you could do was gasp when he slammed back into you. You’d never pictured either of them to be gentle. Concerned for your comfort, sure, but not tender. You’d been right. Luckily, gentle lovemaking was very low on your list of priorities in this particular situation – or ever – which meant you reveled in the brutish attention you got and soon found yourself wanting to beg Walter to fuck you harder.

Sy, as vocal as he’d been before, turned out to also be a champion in impatiently nudging your hand, vaguely suggesting he wanted you to do something, and for a moment it felt like you were about to regain some control of the situation, but no… He was also not above manhandling you into a position where your face hovered over his crotch, and taking his dick out himself once he got really fed up with your stalling. With your eyes wide, you looked at him – something he enjoyed for a moment before tapping the tip of his cock to your lips.

“Don’t make me ask, Sugar,” he growled. As much as you wanted to protest and act out, with Walter fucking the attitude out of you, there was nothing you could do but open your mouth and carefully wrapping your lips around him. The chuckle you let out as Sy grunted appreciatively when you swirled your tongue around his cock was interrupted by your own moan when Walter did… whatever it was that he did to cause it.

Slowly but surely, you made your way further down Sy’s dick, until a particularly violent thrust from Walter threw you off, accidentally forcing Sy deeper than you could handle. Choking and sputtering, you moved away from Sy, only scared for a moment that he’d be disappointed, but he had a different reaction – similar to Walter’s: checking to see if you were okay. Again, you were not in the habit of handing out bonus points for normal behavior, but it was nice, regardless.

“I’m fine,” you said between ragged breaths. “Note to self: deepthroating while getting railed from behind; bad idea.” The guys laughed, and as soon as you’d caught your breath, you joined them.

“There’s one way we all get attention without any risk of choking,” Sy mentioned casually, wiggling an eyebrow suggestively. Yes, you knew what he meant instantly, but… both of them? At the same time? All it took to convince you to at least give it a try was Walter slipping out of you, leaving you empty and nowhere near sated. One of Sy’s sly glances was a question to Walter, who ‘hmmph’-ed. You didn’t like the sound of that, per se, and looked over your shoulder to see what he was on about.

“Definitely depends,” he said, taking your lack of an immediate ‘absolutely the fuck not’-reaction as a sign you were considering it. And he was correct in that interpretation of the situation. “There’s a time and place for first time anal, and this is not it.” That was a sentiment you could absolutely get behind. Luckily, it didn’t matter, because it was hardly applicable. You assured the guys you had plenty of experience in that area.

Another potential spanner in the works that Sy mentioned, was the lack of lube. Somehow, Walter surprised you by mentioning you should have some with you – you did, but how did he know that?

“You use it to keep your hair from going frizzy,” he deadpanned. You looked at him as if you’d seen a ghost, while Sy looked at you as if you’d gone completely nuts.

“What?” you said, turning to Sy again. “It works!” With one hand, you reached for the strap of your backpack, pulling it towards you so you could look for the bottle. It was just under half full, but that should be enough…

Walter wasn’t stingy with the stuff, which was a good thing. There were few things more annoying to you than continuously having to tell a guy to use more lube. One, then two, then three fingers disappeared into you without a hitch, and although the fourth was a nice reminder that you had to relax, that went over without too much trouble as well. Somehow, somewhere in your mind, the fact that Walter seemed to know exactly what he was doing irked you – it was completely hypocritical of you, for obvious reasons, but right now the thought of him with anyone else made you mad.

The boys laughed when you voiced the absurd thought, and Sy didn’t neglect to point out that they hadn’t been too happy about several of the ‘scum’ (yes, really) you’d gotten together with in the time they’d known you. It was a weird thing to be joking about with two of your closest friends while one of them had several fingers stuck up your ass, but at the same time it felt very natural and on-brand for your relationship with the guys.

You whined when Walter pulled his fingers out, making Sy chuckle in a way you didn’t like at all.

“Maybe we should go to sleep,” he suggested with a smug grin on his face that only widened when you told him you were definitely not going to do that. “Why not, sugar?”

Fuck, he was making good on that promise from before. Now, of course, you could convince yourself that begging for cock was beneath you, and you weren’t going to do it, but that would leave you – relatively – unfucked, which was… not desirable, to say the least. Or you could admit to yourself and them how much you wanted both of them inside of you, and have a great time.

Somehow, the red light that no one had bothered to turn off – luckily, as everything you had been doing so far would have been more or less impossible in the dark – already made the tent feel like… a brothel, quite frankly, you put your doubts aside and looked at Sy.

“We’re not going to sleep, because you’re not done fucking me,” you said, giving him your best bedroom eyes. Sy seemed impressed at first, but his eyes flitted to Walter and…

A strong hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you up until your back hit Walter’s chest. His arm reached around, grabbing you by your throat – lightly, almost as if to ask for permission, but demanding.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice dark and gravelly. Down on the air mattress, Sy smirked up at you, making it painfully obvious that you wouldn’t get out of this, no matter how hard you tried. You quickly scanned your brain for all your options, sadly coming up completely empty. No matter which way you sliced it, they were going to come out on top.

“I want you to fuck me,” you snapped, “both of you.” A sarcastic chuckle behind you and Sy shaking his head as he looked up at you told you that that wasn’t good enough. After a deep breath, your voice softened as you spoke again, finally saying the word they wanted to hear: “Please.”

For a long, dull moment all you really heard was the sound of two more condoms being unwrapped, and the top of the bottle of lube clicking. Then, Sy pulled you towards him. As soon as you felt his tip at your entrance, you sat down, fighting the urge to slap him when he threw a smirk and that godforsaken horrible wink your way. Under normal circumstances you considered yourself very well versed in resisting that desire, but today… He laughed when your palm landed lightly on his cheek and thrust up into you for good measure, making you squeal and fall over. Luckily, he caught you just in time.

Just as you wanted to sit up again, Walter put a hand on your back. Right. In that little moment of silliness, you’d almost forgotten what the endgame was, but now that you felt Walter’s cock pushing against your ass…

“Keep talking to us, okay?” Sy whispered softly as he saw your expression change. He cupped your cheek, gently stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. “Breathe.” You took his advice immediately – no doubt a nice change of pace for him, as he was used to your stubbornness at this point – taking a few deep breaths. It wasn’t until the third or fourth one that Walter moved, slowly pushing into you. Keeping your eyes open was absolutely impossible, the sensation of both of them filling you up at the same time too much to even really wrap your head around. “Sugar, you okay?”

“Uhuh.” You nodded, showcasing your current full extent of your ability to answer. When Walter moved, you swore under your breath – when they both moved you hid your face in Sy’s neck and let out a loud moan, followed by an out-of-breath ‘fuck yes’, and that was all the confirmation they needed.

They established a rhythm suspiciously quickly, pumping in and out of you in sync. Yeah. They’d definitely done this before. As you pushed the thought away and focused on the incredible sensations of their cocks moving inside of you, their eager – and mostly greedy – hands on your hips, shoulders, ass, thighs, and tits, you felt a familiar pressure inside of you.

“Don’t stop,” you blurted out – and the boys seemed more than happy to oblige. With one little disclaimer…

“Make it quick, love… Not gonna last,” Walter grunted, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips. It hurt, causing you to swat at his hand, which made him relax his grip a bit. Judging from Sy’s rapid breaths and a concentrated look on his face that gave away just how much difficulty he was having with keeping his rhythm steady, he was getting pretty damn close, too. In fact, pretty much the second their thrusts dragged you over the edge, both of them grit their teeth and gave in to their own pleasure, growling profanities as they came.

The boys were nice enough to handle most of the cleanup for you – which was, given that you were camping, largely a matter of wet wipes, which was definitely not even close to the shower you would have loved to take right about now. And you couldn’t really appreciate Sy’s joke about a lovely, refreshing river near where you were, either.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you yawned, turning around in the middle of the bed, wrapping your sleeping bag tightly around your shoulders. It didn’t take the guys long to join you, and soon you were sandwiched between them again, strong arms wrapped around you – clearly not planning on letting go anytime soon.

Walter pressed his lips to your shoulder and let out a low chuckle. “Still cold, darling?”

The next morning, you woke up in an empty bed, in a tent that was already slightly warmer than comfortable, with just your sleeping bag on it. The guys had somehow already managed to worm theirs into the tiny little bags they came in, and all without waking you. Then again, it was safe to say that by now they’d proven themselves to be experts in the field of putting pretty big things in relatively tiny places…

For a moment, you wondered if you should feel weird about getting up and going outside, seeing the guys, but something about the whole thing felt so oddly natural that you didn’t give it a second thought.

“Mornin’, sugar,” Sy said as he held out some coffee to you when you joined him on the ground by the fire, where you’d spent the start of last night, as well. The two of you called Walter over, who was just about done putting your tent – the one that had been meant to be yours, anyway – away. He tossed the bag into the bed of the truck as if it weighed nothing – and maybe it indeed didn’t, you wouldn’t know, because you hadn’t touched the entire thing – and made his way over to you, gratefully taking the other cup of coffee Sy had poured.

You knew better than to try striking up a conversation with either of them before they’d finished their morning coffee – it was so bad that whenever you had classes together in the mornings, you showed up there with two double espressos for them and a latte for you, because if you didn’t do that, they’d just grouch and snap at you all the way through the first half of class.

It was all the more surprising, then, when Sy suddenly asked Walter a very unexpected question: “Have you ever kissed a dude?” The answer was no, he hadn’t - to which followed an even more surprising question: “Ever wanted to try it?”

The casual energy of the shrug with which Walter answered that question was absolutely unmatched by anything you had ever seen, and you stared at the guys, wide-eyed as they leaned in until their lips touched. It wasn’t just a quick peck, either! No, there was tongue involved in this… And by the end of it?

“Eh,” Walter said, “not for me.” Sy agreed.

“I’m sorry,” you said, completely taken aback by the unexpectedness of what had just happened. “What? You can’t just… Stick your tongue down your friend’s throat and then casually decide… What?”

“Hey,” Sy said, his tone still infuriatingly indifferent, “don’t knock it till you try it.”

#syverson x reader #captain syverson fanfiction #syverson fanfiction #captain syverson #syverson #henry cavill characters #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #walter marshall #syverson smut #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fanfic

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

Note

WIBTA if I left my mom alone dealing with my traumatized sister?

This turned out to be very long, there's a synthesis at the end. My (22FtM) sister (8F) has gone to summer camp and, for the first time, slept in a tent away from home. Except that the people looking after the kids for the night (mostly 16-17 yo teens) didn't mention that it was supposed to be a horror night, and my sister (probably the youngest of the group) was forbidden to come home or call her parents, both the night and the following day.

Of course she came back traumatized (considering that she's easily scared too) and began having full blown panic attacks, crying and whatnot. When we asked the people who ran the camp for an explanation, they said nothing was wrong with her, and that's why they called no one to pick her up, thus making it harder to reconstruct what happened to us and straight up lying, but this is a whole other story.

It has been two weeks for now and although she's gotten better, my sister still needs someone looking after her 24/7 or will start to get scared and risk having panic attacks, especially at night. This situation is extremely draining to everyone, but I'm constantly asked to babysit, a lot of the time interrupting whatever I have to do to look after her, or make the activities I was doing kid friendly (as a metalhead this means "no scary music" or if I'm playing games or watching something, it must be suitable for her). This is especially hard on me since for practical reasons I'm forced to share my room with her, and she will often hang around me, and it's not excluded that she may ask me to leave the room so that she can play on her own.

On top of this, my grandfather (my mom's stepdad) is currently in the hospital for heart surgery, which preoccupies my mother further and will take it out on everyone passive-aggresively since she's a really anxious person on her own, let alone in this situation.

I'm reaching a breaking point where I'm struggling to keep it together and not to lash out at everyone, meaning that I get nervous or snappy when tired and will need a lot of alone time since I can't get any during the day (I've been recently diagnosed as autistic, and only now acknowledging my own needs and not just "pushing through" them), to the point my mom is starting to blame the T I take because of my transition for my bad mood or straight up scolding me because I'm "exaggerating" or "not doing enough for the family".

I don't blame her but her behaviour is objectively making things worse to me, but anytime I tried to tell her about my feelings in the past she's been belittling them or storming out of the room without listening to me.

I'm considering going away for a couple of days, but I'm afraid that my absence may actually worsen the situation because I'm the only one in the house who can afford to and is actively putting work/studying to the side to make room for my family's needs, and without the extra help my mom gets the whole thing could become unsustainable for everyone, not just for me.

TLDR: WIBTA if I left my mom dealing with my 8 yo sister's trauma to prioritize my own mental health and my studies?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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d1xonss · 4 months

Text

Desert Rose

Chapter 20 ~ Stay

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 2

✧ Word Count : 4.1k

In this chapter ~ After Rose makes her choice to part from the group, Daryl quickly finds out, leaving him in a state of unbelievable shock. But he doesn't let her get very far before he tracks her down through the trees, needing to find the right things to say to her to get her to stay.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* DARYL POV ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After the conversation I had with Rose, I needed to leave and cool off. When I didn't respond, it's not because I didn't want to, but because I didn't want to say something that I would regret later just because I was frustrated. That was the last thing she needed. She was hurting after what happened with Sophia, shit we all were. But my patience was thin right now and I didn't want to take that out on her.

I walked all the way out to the field and sat down on the grass, beginning to pull some pieces out of the ground and started to play with the tiny blades in my fingers. Sitting there silently with my mind running through everything that happened in the past few days. I found myself growing more and more frustrated every time I thought of a sacrifice one of us made for a girl who was already dead. We had all tried so hard, and for what? For it to end up shitty in the end like it always seemed to.

My mind then wandered back to Rose; like it always seemed to as well. Even though everything has been pretty terrible, she was always able to make me smile somehow. I thought back to the small moments we've shared recently and just the thought alone brought another small smile to my face. I had been trying to convince myself that I didn't have feelings for her, hell I've been trying to do that since the beginning. But I did, I liked her. I liked her a lot.

She made me feel different. I had never been with anyone before this, just a few one night stands that I didn't give a shit about. But I had never cared this much about a woman before, ever. The thought crossed my mind, being with Rose, but I didn't want to ruin what we already had. I had managed to build up some kind of friendship with someone that I actually trusted for the first time in my life, and the last thing I wanted was to make the wrong move. Or even worse; push her away somehow.

But my thoughts quickly stopped short once I heard someone call my name from just behind me.

"Daryl!" Maggie's voice called out.

I turned around right as she approached me, with a book held in her hands, "Do you know where Rose went? I wanted to give her this book since she hasn't been liking the one she's reading, but she took off too fast earlier." she finished with a laugh.

I dipped my head in a nod, "I think she's in my tent, I'll go tell her." I replied.

"Great, thanks." she said before turning back on her heel to walk towards the house.

I quickly got up to my feet and started to make my way back to the camp that I had set up a little farther away from everyone. To be completely honest, I don't know why I did it. But I guess a part of me understood Rose's need to be away, because I went and did the same thing without even realizing at the time.

As I finally made it up to the yellow tent, my hand went instinctively to just unzip the entrance, but I stopped myself and shook my head, clearing my throat so she could hear me.

"Rose?" I called out softly, warning her that I was about to come in.

I didn't hear anything, so I slowly unzipped the tent only to find that she wasn't in there. After scanning the small space, I was going to head out to look and see if she was at the house now, but something stopped me in my tracks. I noticed quickly that all of her stuff was missing and there was a note sitting next to my stuff with my name written across the front, a Cherokee rose placed conveniently right next to it. My heart began to sink to the pit of my stomach, but I still sat down and opened the note to see what it said, for all I knew she could be going out for a hunt. But in the back of my mind, I knew that wasn't it.

Daryl,

I wanted to leave you this note because I felt terrible not giving you at least somewhat of an explanation, so here it is. I left.

After what happened to Sophia, something just clicked. I realized how attached I became to this group, and that isn't a very good thing for me. I was on my own for a very long time before this and you know that, it's not easy for me to depend on people or get close to anyone in general but it happened. And I hate to admit it, but it scared me.

I care about all of you so much it hurts, but it's best for everyone if I leave. I don't want to watch anyone else die, I just can't do it, please understand that at least a little. I believe that most of you will make it, but in case I'm wrong...I don't just want to sit and watch like we all did today.

But I don't want you to think that it was easy for me to leave, because it wasn't. It was harder than I will probably ever admit out loud, and it was even harder to leave you. I care about you so much Daryl, you have no idea. But I have to do this, I can't stand back and watch what happened to Sophia potentially happen to you too.

Maybe this isn't goodbye, I'm actually hoping we cross paths again one day.

But until then, see you later Daryl Dixon.

-Love, Rose

I stared at the note with wide eyes, reading the words very carefully over and over again as if they would somehow change. She couldn't leave. In hindsight, maybe I could understand why she would want to but that isn't a good enough reason. Not now. She had turned into such a valuable member of this group and everyone here cares about her so much. I couldn't let her go. She had no idea how much I needed her to stay here.

So, without thinking, I grabbed my crossbow and rushed out of the tent to look for her. It was dark now so she would be harder to track, but I didn't care. I needed to find her. I had no fucking idea what I was going to say to her, but I had to try and convince her to stay somehow. She needed to understand that she didn't have to push people away anymore, at least not me. I would always be here for her, I wasn't planning on leaving her anytime soon, and I wanted her to know that. She needed to know that.

It didn't take very long before her footprints became more prominent in the mud, and I knew she was close by. I only took a few more steps in between the trees before I saw her walking a good distance in front of me, her backpack strapped tightly around her shoulders.

My foot then came down harshly as I purposefully stepped on a branch so she would hear me behind her. She whipped her head around as soon as the sound registered, with one of her knives raised, looking around on high alert. Her eyes scanned all over the trees, but she was unable to see me in the dark as I had apparently hidden myself well. I found myself huffing out a breath before finally stepping closer so she would be able to spot me clearly. Her eyes then landed on me immediately after that, her face dropping as she slowly lowered her knife and sighed to herself.

"What are you doing here?" she asked me.

I scoffed, "What am I doin here?" I asked, "I get a letter from ya, sayin yer just takin off and you didn't expect me to come after ya?"

She looked at me for a long moment, before uttering another word, "I have to leave Daryl, you know that."

"Nah, I don't know that. Make me understand, why do ya have to leave? Why now after everything?" I asked.

"I have to leave because I don't want to watch anyone else die. I can't." she frowned, tears now forming in her eyes.

"But that's a part of life, whether it's the end of the world or not, yer gonna lose people. Yer actually losin them all in one go right now, do ya realize that?" I asked.

She immediately shook her head, "No, that's not the same thing. At least I know you guys are alive."

"Well, what's the point if we're alive or not, if you ain't ever going to see us again anyways?" I asked with edge to my tone.

I didn't want to get upset with her. But she hurt me by leaving, thinking I was just going to shrug it off when in reality, she clearly didn't know a damn thing about how I felt. She just stood there for a few moments in silence, like this had turned into some kind of face off and her move was the next. A part of me was just waiting for her to run, but she didn't. She stayed perfectly still in the same place as her tearful eyes never broke away from mine.

But she eventually sighed to herself with a shake of her head, finding the right words, "I'm sorry I hurt you, I can tell just by the way you're looking at me. But you have to understand I-" her voice cracked, and the tears started to roll down her cheeks, "I can't watch you die too." she finished with a whisper, as if she was terrified to say it out loud.

My face softened almost on instinct hearing her broken voice, and I took a few steps closer to her. I wanted to reach out and wipe her tears away, hell take all her pain away, but I didn't know if that's what she wanted right now. But she didn't back away from me, which I only took as a good sign.

"I ain't gonna die. I don't plan to anytime soon." I assured her.

"Yeah, you don't plan to, but anything could happen. For all we know, anyone could die tomorrow." she stated.

I stared at her for a few seconds before muttering, "Don't."

"Don't what?" she whispered, tears running down her face.

"Don't go." I said softly.

She looked me in the eyes before hanging her head in defeat with a soft breath, and I could tell she was tired and emotionally exhausted after the day we all had. All I wanted was to reach out to her, hold her close as she cried but I obviously hesitated.

But then suddenly for once, I didn't think. I didn't let my mind linger on the "what ifs," I just acted fast before I talked myself out of it.

I gently grabbed her face in my hands so she would look at me, taking my thumbs and wiping away the fresh tears that spilled down her cheeks. She didn't pull away like I thought she would, but only leaned into my touch which made a warmth fill my chest.

"Please," I spoke quietly, "Please just...just stay."

She looked like she was having an inner debate with herself. I knew deep down I couldn't force her to stay if she really wanted to go, but I wanted to try. My mouth opened slightly to say something else, but the potential outcome made me close it again, fearful of the unknown. There was no going back if I were to say the things I truly wanted to say, but maybe those were the things she needed to hear. The things that would get her to stay.

"Stay...for me." I finally spoke.

Her eyes widened slightly, and I was preparing myself for her to pull away from me, but she never did. Instead, she only started to lean closer, which made my heart start beating rapidly, so fast that I thought she would be able to hear it. My mind was on autopilot as I found myself leaning closer too, her hands came up gently as she placed them on my forearms, while mine still held her face. My eyes flickered down at her lips and then back up at her eyes to make sure she was really okay with this, silently asking permission. To my surprise, she nodded her head ever so slightly, and I hesitated for only a moment, before finally closing the space between us.

It was soft and slow, but soon our lips started to move in sync as she leaned in further to kiss me back. I felt electricity flow through my entire body just at the feeling of her soft lips against my own, her hands only pulling me closer. I didn't want to stop, not ever, but I didn't want to push anything either, so I pulled away after a few seconds, resting my forehead on hers with a wide grin on my face.

"I'll stay." she whispered against my lips before kissing me again.

I smiled into the kiss, moving my hands down to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to me. Her arms wrapped around my neck, starting to tug a little at the hair on the back of my head, the feeling practically ignited my body on fire. At first, I could've sworn that this was a dream, but once I felt her touch, I knew that it wasn't. It couldn't have been.

I had never felt these things for anyone before, but I'm just glad I was feeling these things for her. In the back of my mind, I knew I wouldn't feel this way about anyone else because how could someone be more perfect than her? It wasn't possible. And her saying just those two words to me, made me happier than I ever thought I could be.

She then broke the kiss after a few long moments, with another smile on her face, "I didn't think you felt the same way." she breathed.

I gazed down at her and only chuckled quietly, "Woman, you have no idea." I spoke, causing her to smile bashfully as I pecked her lips once more before saying, "C'mon, let's head back."

She nodded her head and pulled away from me, slowly grabbing a hold of my hand and intertwining our fingers together. As we walked back, we started talking like normal to fill the silence, teasing each other a little bit about whenever we would get nervous around each other before. And I was pretty sure I had never been happier.

When we started to see the house coming into view, I suddenly stopped as I saw the group standing around the house, pulling her to stop with me. She looked at me confused and I only hesitated for a moment, not fully sure how to say what I wanted to say. I didn't want to hurt her, but I didn't know if I was comfortable telling the others about our relationship yet. Wait, were we in a relationship? I had no idea, but all I knew is that I wanted to take things slow, to make sure I didn't mess anything up.

"What's wrong?" she asked me in a soft voice, brushing her thumb against the back of my hand.

I shook my head quickly, "Nothin, it's just..." I trailed off, not looking at her.

I then felt her give my hand a gentle squeeze, causing my eyes to look back down towards her, "Talk to me." she said.

I sighed, "I dunno how to say this. I don't wanna hurt ya or anythin."

She smiled sweetly, "Daryl, you're not going to hurt me, just say it."

I sighed again and nodded to myself, "Okay, uh... I wanna take this slow, and um... I dunno if m' comfortable with showing off... whatever this is."

To my surprise she let out a small laugh, shaking her head lightly, "That's it? Daryl, it's okay. If I'm being honest, I don't really know if I want to show off well...whatever this is to the group either."

I let out a breath of relief and squeezed her hand. She then let go after a few seconds, "I'm just going to go put my backpack in the tent and I'll meet up with you, okay?"

I nodded my head and watched her smile at me once more, before turning around fully to walk off. My eyes lingered on her figure for longer than they needed to, but I couldn't seem to look away even if I tried. Though once she was finally emerged into the darkness, I began to slowly make my way over towards the others. I couldn't believe any of that just happened, wanting to convince myself that I was still dreaming somehow, but oh it very real.

As I got closer to the group, I saw most of them standing outside the house arguing with each other. I stood off in the back, not saying anything as I listened and watched everything go down. Apparently, the guys weren't back with Hershel yet and Lori had gone after them, crashing a car and almost getting herself killed in the process. I thought that was a stupid move but I still didn't say anything as my arms crossed over my chest.

"Hey, what's going on?" I heard Rose ask, her figure coming up to stand next to me.

I couldn't help but smile down at her when she walked over, watching as her brows furrowed more with confusion as she listened. I kept my eyes on her while she got filled in on everything that had happened since we were gone, before suddenly feeling someone staring right at me. My eyes glanced over to see Dale looking at me somewhat knowingly, with a smug expression. I just glared back at him, and he raised his hands in surrender, but still didn't wipe that stupid smile off his face.

"Look, I had to get you back here, okay?" I heard Shane snap at Lori, "I will go look for them, I will go after them. We just have to make sure you're okay, alright? Gotta make sure the baby's okay." he suddenly spilled.

My eyes got wide when he said that, looking over at Rose who didn't look the least bit surprised as she too heard the news. She made eye contact with me and just shrugged her shoulders, showing me that she already somehow knew about it.

"You're having a baby?" Carl asked her in shock.

Lori didn't say anything, utterly speechless, but Andrea quickly stepped in "Let's get you checked out, okay?" she said softly as she led the woman into the house.

Almost all of them made their way inside after them, clearly wanting to know more, but Maggie surprisingly hung back. Her eyes panning over to Rose as she looked over at the two of us expectantly, her eyes full of suspicion.

"Where have you been?" she asked worriedly.

"Oh, I was... just out hunting." Rose replied quickly.

"In the dark?" Maggie questioned.

She nodded slowly, "Yeah, I just needed some quiet." she said simply.

"Oh, okay so where's the meat?" Maggie asked as her eyebrows pulled together.

Rose stood there for a second dumbfounded, "I didn't catch anything, kind of a waste of time." she finally said.

Maggie glanced over to me and then back to Rose before I heard a small "mhm" from her. I felt my cheeks get hot as her gaze was intense on us, but she didn't say anything else as she turned to head into the house as well. Once she was finally out of earshot, I then looked over at Rose with my eyebrows raised, seeing a nervous smile make its way onto her face.

"You went huntin? That's the best ya got?" I asked playfully.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Whatever. Would you rather me say, "Oh sorry Maggie, I was trying to leave the group and then Daryl came, we made out, and then I decided to stay," is that better?" she asked with a hand on her hip.

I smirked at her, "Nah."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." she muttered before turning around and starting to make her way back towards the tent for the night. I had almost forgotten how late it got, but I soon followed close behind her, feeling the tiredness slowly taking over.

Once we both got inside, the two of us separated onto either side of the space, getting on top of the sleeping bags for the night. I laid down on my back with a groan, staring up at the ceiling momentarily before I subtly glanced over at her again. She too was laying down on her back, her eyelids falling more heavily with exhaustion, but she still could not have looked more beautiful.

My mind thought about moving over and wrapping my arm across her shoulders to sleep, but I made no effort to move. Apart of me was still fearful, even after the both of us confessing the feelings we felt for one another, that she would still move away to have her own space.

A quiet sigh left my lips as I debated back and forth in my head, but apparently it wasn't as quiet as I thought as her head turned towards me in question.

"What?" she whispered quietly in the dead of night.

I shook my head, "Nothin." I muttered as I glanced back up at the ceiling, avoiding her eyes, "Yer just...a little far away, that's all."

My eyes stayed firmly in place as I tried my best not to look back over at her, the fear of rejection still creeping up the back of my neck it felt like. But then I suddenly heard her let out a small laugh, before there was some shuffling like she was scooting closer to me. I then felt her presence only inches away from me now, her head falling on my chest gently as a smile was brought to my face at her actions.

"Is this better?" she asked sarcastically.

I hummed a response as I nodded, not that she would be able to see, before resting my chin on the top of her head. I held her tightly to me as I rested my eyes, content with the contact though I was nervous I wouldn't be. It was a nerve-racking thing for me to admit out loud, but I hadn't felt such a gentle touch before hers, and I was nervous I wouldn't be comfortable with it because of the past. Yet somehow with her, it was different. Almost as if I craved it.

But my eyes popped back open as a thought entered my mind, not wanting to breeze over the fact that Shane announced something worth talking about for more than five minutes.

"So, ya knew Lori was pregnant?" I asked out of the blue, glancing down at her now.

"Mhm." she hummed as she moved to look me in the eye, "Glenn told me the same time he told me about the walkers in the barn."

The second our eyes locked, I became very aware of how close our faces were now and I tried to swallow whatever nerves I still had. Not being used to something like this. Though she noticed quickly and had a smirk on her face before leaning up and placing a gentle kiss on my nose. I felt my heart leap in my chest, and she laughed quietly to herself at how red my face probably was.

I tried to recover quickly, clearing my throat a little before asking, "Well, do ya have any more secrets I should know bout?"

She thought about it for a second before a small smile returned to her face, "I like you. Have I told you that?"

Another familiar warmth filled my chest as I watched her eyes sparkle, "Yeah." I muttered, "I think you mighta mentioned it." I smirked before leaning in, placing another kiss on her lips.

She hummed in content, kissing me back for a few seconds before pulling away and resting her head on my chest again, closing her eyes. Before I knew it, her breathing had changed and I knew she was asleep within merely minutes. But I just sat there thinking, no longer as tired as I was before.

Today was a shitshow, but also a pretty great one too. I thought to myself, if I didn't have Rose with me right now, I didn't know how well I would be handling the loss of Sophia. But she somehow helped keep me keep my head attached to my shoulders, and that's exactly what I needed. Just her.

~ Thanks for reading!

(They’re finally together ahhhh)

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anticomedygarden · 7 months

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drop the champagne

5 times annabeth taught percy something new + a million times he taught her the same thing

title is from the In the Heights song 'champagne' by lin manuel-miranda. mostly a nod to how similar usnavi and vanessa's dynamic is to percabeth. also another excuse to scream about them after watching the trailer a million times

also on ao3

Dozens of kids were wandering around the grounds of Camp Half Blood as they waited for capture the flag to start, and Percy could not for the life of him figure out what was wrong with his armor. He'd been fiddling with it for five minutes now, somehow not drawing the attention of any counselors or even the Athena cabin who he was allied with. After the last capture the flag (still his only capture the flag), he was really starting to get worried. If he successfully completed a quest and died because he couldn't get his armor right for a 'friendly war game', he was gonna be seriously ticked.

Just to see what it would do, he pulled on a strap near his shoulder. For a few seconds, it stayed in place, and he really thought he'd finally gotten it. Then it unraveled completely, and he barely managed to grab it before it hit the ground.

He might as well face it. He was dead, and Chiron was gonna have to tell his mom that he, Poseidon's first child in decades, quester, retriever of Zeus' master bolt, died in a capture the flag accident.

Feeling particularly frustrated, he didn't notice when someone finally saw his dilemma and walked over, not until her blond curls were right in his face.

"You haven't figured out how to do this yet?" she asked. It was hard not to feel a little insulted by her tone, but he had come to realize that she didn't mean anything by it. She just hadn't learned tact yet. (And she'd never admit it, but Annabeth still hadn't quite recovered from the quest and Luke's subsequent betrayal. He could let this one slide for her sake.)

"I've only done it once," he said, "and you did it for me!"

So maybe he wasn't too great at tact either.

She grabbed a strap and started redoing his armor while he watched. "If I keep doing it for you, you'll never learn," she pointed out. "Here." She grabbed his hand and guided it to the other strap. "You try."

He sighed but did as he was told. It didn't look as good as the one she did, but he had to admit it looked and felt much better than before.

"Told you."

He stuck his tongue out at her. Then, since his mom raised a gentleman, he said, "Thanks."

She patted his shoulder. "Thank me when we win."

Percy watched, transfixed, as Annabeth slashed and stabbed, nothing but a vaguely blond whirl, beating some brown haired guy back to the mats until she pinned him down, 90 pounds of pure fury on top of at least 150 pounds of startled teenage boy.

The guy - Percy wasn't sure of his name - tapped out, and Annabeth quickly jumped up, eyes already scanning for her next victim. "Who's next?" she said.

The majority of the people in the training room scurried out after that.

"Cowards," Annabeth muttered and turned to a training dummy.

Percy watched her slash at it for a few minutes, and then, in a courageous move he thought would make his mom proud, he tentatively stepped forward. "Maybe you should take a break," he said with false calm.

She ignored him.

"Annabeth, you're scaring people," he tried, gulping when she tore a large chunk of fake flesh from the dummy. "You're already the best here, why don't you just-"

"Take a break?" she said, finally turning to meet his gaze. Her eyes were blazing, and he had to duck to avoid the dagger still in her hand.

"You've been here for hours-"

"How else will I beat Luke?" she asked. "He's the best swordsman for generations. I have to train as much as I can."

The situation was far worse than he thought. "And you're the best strategist, and you've beat everyone at camp already." Hopefully, appealing to her hubris would help.

It didn't. Her face closed off completely. "But I've never beat Luke."

He didn't ask if she was sure that she even wanted to beat him. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Fine. Time to pull out the big guns. "I'll spar with you."

He held his breath as she gave him a disbelieving look. "Alright, but you're using a dagger."

"Oh. Uh-"

But she was already walking over to the weapons rack. "You need to learn how to use more than one weapon. You won't be able to use a sword in every situation."

"Isn't the whole point of having a sword that reappears in my pocket no matter what is so that I can use it in every situation?"

She gave him a look that clearly said, You're being an idiot. "What if you're in super close quarters and can't maneuver Riptide? What if you can't get to your pocket? What if someone manages to take it from you? What if you don't have pockets? What if-"

He held up a hand, because, holy crap. "Okay, okay, I get it." She smirked. "Teach me how to use a dagger."

With a certain gleam in her eyes he didn't really like, she grabbed one off the rack and handed it to him.

He gripped it on instinct, balancing it out and dropping into a fighting stance. "Is there anything - oh my gods!"

She didn't wait to give him any instruction before slashing at him with her own dagger, and he barely jumped out of its path. (Thank the gods for his ingrained battle instincts.)

He backed up as she continued her assault and narrowly avoided tripping over his own feet. Then, she delivered a particularly nasty jab, distracting him, and kicked his feet out from under him. His breath whooshed out as his back hit the ground.

"I win," she announced, her ponytail falling and hitting him in the face. Her dagger was pressed against his neck. "You're not guarding yourself enough. Remember, the dagger is shorter than your sword. And you need to actually defend yourself, not just back up."

He made a face at her. "A little warning would have helped."

"There's no warning in battle." She stood and offered him a hand. "Again."

So he got up, and they went again. And again. And again. She beat him every time, but when he came back the next day, he beat the trainer on duty, and Annabeth slept until 9.

That was a win in his book.

"That's so unstable," Annabeth commented, looking at Percy's gingerbread house which, admittedly, looked about 10 seconds from collapsing.

"It doesn't have to be stable," he said. "It's supposed to be fun!"

She snorted. "Fun is for losers and quitters."

Her gingerbread house didn't look like it was about to fall over. Hers was two stories tall with multiple rooms like a doll house and emblazoned with various candy designs: gumdrops on the roof, M&Ms dotting the grounds like gravel, a licorice moat. His was basically five graham crackers in a vague house shape sitting on chocolate icing.

He didn't mind though. They got to eat it in the end no matter what their houses looked like.

Pointedly ignoring her, he stuck a Kit-Kat straight up on the top graham cracker. It stayed for a second, then toppled into the brown icing like a stick in a mud pit.

"Oh, for the gods' sake," Annabeth muttered. She pulled his plate toward her and started rebuilding his little shack.

"Hey, I'm doing just fine," he protested, but one look from Annabeth had him cracking up. "Fine, so it sucks."

"Really sucks." He rolled his eyes, but she kept working until he had a quality graham cracker cabin with standing walls and everything. "See, you don't actually need that much icing to get it to stay. You just need better support."

He made an offended noise. "But that's the best part!"

He knew what she was going to say the second she opened her mouth. "The best part is winning first place."

Before he could retort, he happened to glance up at Grover sitting across from them and couldn't help but notice the look in his eyes. It was somewhere between exasperated and fond.

"What?" Percy asked.

He never heard the answer, however, as the Stolls chose that moment to start a food fight.

And Annabeth's house won first place, because of course it did.

They were lucky, very lucky, to have been walking past the park at the exact time they did. They were also very lucky (or unlucky; jury was still out) to have drawn the attention of the monster to them and away from the large group of children it had apparently been hunting.

"I smell children," the monster whispered, evidently still trying to hide herself. She was semi-transparent, ghostly, actually, with dark hair flowing down her back like a mane. "Such delicious demigods." She continued to amble after Percy and Annabeth as they led her away from the various crowds of people in the park.

Percy turned to Annabeth with a false sense of calm and asked, "What the hell is this thing?"

She glanced behind her surreptitiously. "I think she's Mormo."

"What - like in Utah?"

"Not Mormon, Seaweed Brain, Mormo."

Percy fiddled with Riptide in his pocket. "What's her deal?"

"Sources are sparse and a little conflicted, but basically, she eats kids."

"Oh, shit."

"Yeah, she also might be able to shape shift into a wolf or a horse."

"That's..."

"Wild, I know."

They made it to a relatively empty part of the park, and Percy decided he didn't want to wait to find out if she could shape shift or not. He caught Annabeth's eye and she nodded, already knowing the plan. He would distract while she snuck up from behind. Nothing they hadn't done a million times before.

He turned around. "Hey, lady! Eat this!" Without preamble, he uncapped Riptide and swung out at Mormo, hoping for the element of surprise.

Unfortunately, she ducked.

"So delicious," she muttered. Her form rippled. "The ichor in your blood will taste so good."

Behind her, Annabeth crept up slowly but surely.

"Nah, I don't think ichor would taste that good," Percy said. "Probably too spicy." Now, he was actually wondering if that was true.

Mormo laughed, a sharp, loud sound. "You have no idea child." She sniffed. "You are 16. What a delicious age."

He wanted to protest and say that so far, 16 hadn't been all that great barring him and Annabeth finally starting to date, but his girlfriend was less than two feet away from jumping the monster, so instead he said, "That's so creepy," and watched gleefully as Annabeth leapt forward with her dagger out and sent Mormo back to Tartarus.

Even covered in monster dust, she was still stunning. He held out his hand. "Let's go finish our date."

When Percy got to the New Rome library, his girlfriend was, predictably, surrounded by books.

"Hey, babe," he murmured.

He knew she had been aware of him coming, spatial awareness having become its own sixth sense over the years, so it was no surprise when she responded with nothing but an unintelligible chain of vowel sounds.

He laughed. "You ready to go home?"

A couple years, there would have been no point at all in trying to break through whatever cloud of work was occupying her mind at the moment, but she'd been really trying since the Giant War to not push herself past the point of no return.

"Um..." She put a bookmark in her textbook and started gathering books into her arms. "Yeah, let's go."

"What all are you checking out?" he asked even though he already knew the answer.

"All of them."

He grabbed the remaining books while she picked up her backpack, and they made their way to the front desk.

"What were you reading about?" he asked. He may have just come out of a day full of lectures, but her eyes lighting up like that made the long-ass rant he was about to get so worth it.

"The father of chemistry, Antoine Lavoisier," she answered. "He was alive during the French Revolution and did all kinds of stuff that paved the way for modern science."

They reached the circulation desk, and Annabeth continued telling him all about phlogiston theory and how Lavoisier refuted it, and about oxygen and hydrogen and carbon, and about his experiment to see what two weeks of drinking nothing but milk would do to his body.

At some point, the librarian gave them a funny look. Percy wasn't sure if it was because of the topic of their conversation or because they were checking out so many books.

Whatever. They earned the right to be weird in public.

"...and then he was guillotined for being a tax collector!" she finished with immense outrage.

He frowned and pushed the door open into the lamp-lit road. "Really?" That was not where he was expecting that story to go.

"Yeah, the Reign of Terror chopped his head off, which was a real shame because he was actually involved in a lot of government reform and other kinds of activism, especially in education."

"Cool."

"Yeah, I thought so." She bit her lip. "I guess the good guys don't always win."

He thought that was a little black and white since Lavoisier was a member of the upper class during a time when the lower class was still called peasants, but it really did sound like this guy was pretty chill.

And she had a good point.

He put a hand on her arm. "But we did."

+1 million

Annabeth shifts in the uncomfortable wooden library chair and turns her page, mind lost in thought. Antoine Lavoisier was an upper class French scientist who revolutionized the field of chemistry; he fought for class reform and education equality, and he brought humans' understanding of the world forward from phlogiston theory, the idea that a fire like element called phlogiston was partially responsible for combustion and present in all combustion reactions, to the discovery of hydrogen, oxygen, and a host of other elements, all unique and important.

And he got his chopped off. So much for scientific advancement.

Sensing Percy walking up behind her, she hurries to read the last few sentences of the page.

"You ready to go home?" he asks.

She closes the book. "Yeah, let's go."

They gather her stuff, Percy not once complaining about having to carry five textbook sized volumes, and make their way to the circulation desk.

"What were you reading about?" he asks. She loves him for that. No one else ever asks what she's reading for fear of getting caught in a long-winded explanation of some complex topic. Percy's eyes may glaze over while she talks, but he never tells her stop.

So she tells him about Lavoisier and all his triumphs and woes up until his decapitation, they end up on the street outside the library. It's nighttime already, their path lit with street lamps and porch lights. There's a chill in the air, so she pulls the sleeves of Percy's borrowed hoodie over her fingers while trying not to drop her books.

After she finishes her spiel, she bites her lip and says, "I guess the good guys don't always win."

Immediately, Percy turns to her, probably thinking the same thing she is, about all their dead friends and all their failures. He puts a hand on her arm, stopping them underneath a light. "But we did."

She looks at him and sees her wonderful boyfriend who loves her no matter what she does, who stayed with her after all this time, who fell into hell for her. The one who would choose her over the world. The one who taught her heart how to trust again. She's not quite sure she believes it, but she knows it's the truth. "I guess we did."

They smile at each other and walk home in comfortable silence.

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arthurthethird · 2 years

Text

First request for @arthurmorgansleftear

I hope this will be good enough since it's pretty much first request I do on here. Please enjoy.

Camp boahs comforting reader after Micah comments on their weight

Gn!reader

The day started calmly. Birds singing, fish swimming, rats wondering around the kitchen.

Speaking of kitchen, you decided it's a good time to get some food. You haven't eaten in a while and a good outlaw has to eat plenty, so you decided it's your time.

Speaking of rats, it so happened that one of the camp rats was sitting there. Not really doing anything else than sipping whiskey, a sight no one can be surprised about.

You calmly ignored him. You learnt that that's the best way for you to go on with your day without having to break his nose.

Yet he always asks for it.

Even now.

As soon as he saw you approaching, Micah immediately grinned.

"Didn't expect you here"

You stay quiet, only giving him a confused glance.

Now, depending on your silhouette, he'll find a way to get under your skin.

Either "Didn't you come here today already?" "And I've been wondering where all the food goes..." "Look at that, you'll soon have to buy yourself new clothes if you keep eating so much!"

Or "first time in a month, ey?" "You finally decided to eat! Everyone thought you're sick" "If you like starving so much, why are we wasting our food on you?"

He has his ways.

And we all know he doesn't have the perfect body either, so you try to ignore him.

Try to.

Of course, it doesn't end well, since you end up trying to hide your feelings.

It hurt. Of course it did, why wouldn't it?

You quickly walk away, not even bothering to actually eat something. You only hear his sickening laugh as you walk away.

He knows he has won.

Arthur's first reaction as soon as he heard that familiar laugh was to check what's going on.

Obviously if Micah's happy, someone's not.

You bumped into him just as he walked towards the place.

His hands landed on your shoulders as he looked down to you.

Now, Arthur might be an idiot, but he can easily read someone's emotions from their face.

You were hurt. Micah was happy.

That bastard.

He looked at you with a concerned look.

"what happened?"

You just mutter that it's nothing. That it's just Micah trying to get under your skin. And that's what takes him over the edge.

Arthur walks up to the blonde rat and punches him right in the face.

While Micah's busy cursing him out, he takes you by the arm, gently, but firmly, and walks to your tent.

You want to ask what is he doing, but before you can, he hugs you.

Telling you that you shouldn't listen to stupid Micah. You're beautiful and everyone in the camp knew that.

Then he brings you a bowl of Pearson's stew.

You try to decline but he basically shoves it down your throat.

"Don't listen to that son of a bitch. You have to eat no matter what."

Charles isn't even bothered at first.

He learned to stay away out of camp conflict, so he couldn't be bothered.

But when he sees that it's you who's stomping away from Micah, he quickly jumps into action.

He walks to you, asking what happened.

Even if you don't want to tell, he makes you.

As soon as he hears what happened, he goes for the rat.

You know that moment where Charles throws Micah because he said something assholish?

Yea, that. He does that.

After that he walks to you and sits you down for a proper talk.

And that means him telling you why the food's important and why you're beautiful no matter how much you eat.

Then he gets some food and goes to his own tent, pulling you along of course.

Proceeds to feed you.

"You need energy. Besides, I didn't caught that deer for you to not try it."

John immediately tries to locate where what is happening.

As soon as he sees you with Micah, he gets up and makes his way over there.

He heard everything while coming over.

Wraps an arm around you, covering your ears and proceeds to curs the snake out.

You stand there, not knowing if you're supposed to cry or laughed.

You just watch Micah's expression go from annoyed to confused.

You didn't even noticed that John leaded you away.

He went outside the camp with you and looked at you.

Proceeds to hug the shit out of you.

Telling you that you shouldn't listen because what you eat is your deal.

And it definitely shouldn't impact on your self image.

For one's he said something smart.

"I don't care what other people say about you, you're goddamn beautiful. And everyone in the camp knows that. Shut up, you can't disagree"

Hosea usually doesn't care about the camp fights.

Prefers to stay out of it unless it includes him directly.

But he heard you mutter something to yourself.

So he raised his head from the newspaper to see what was going on.

Oh boy.

He doesn't do much.

Just gets up, rolls the newspaper, walks to Micah and smacks his head with it.

He ignores the rat cursing him out. Instead walks to you and leads you back to the fire.

Similar to Charles, explains why eating is important, telling you that you're beautiful and who cares about what Micah says.

He gives you a hug, then encourages you to eat something.

If you don't want to, he'll leave you alone.

But definitely will come to check on you every night.

"You gotta eat. So what if someone cares, are you harming them with your food?"

Dutch heard everything.

He was smoking a cigar outside of his tent when he noticed the situation.

Immediately walks there.

"What's going on?"

Micah tries to show the situation to Dutch as lighthearted, but when he noticed the leader isn't buying it, he looked away grumbling.

Dutch proceeds to explain to him that they accept everyone and that he didn't care about Micah's looks when he took him in.

He then takes you to his tent, sitting down with you and asking what was that about.

Talks you through why you think what he said might be true.

Basically a therapist.

He then gives you a hug, telling you to eat something.

"we need you big and strong! Another job's comin'!"

Javier was playing his guitar nearby.

As soon as he sees Micah's mouth open, he stops, turning his full attention there.

As soon as he starts talking, Javier took his guitar, walks there and smacks his head.

Micah will definitely have a bruise, but who cares.

Curses him out in Spanish.

Then pulls you with him back to his tent.

He let's you vent about everything.

Then plays you a song while you lean to him, bummed out.

After that, definitely makes you eat something.

"I know it's hard mi amigo, but you have to try!"

Sean is confused when he sees you walking away without the food.

He didn't hear anything happening, he only knew that you went to eat.

He gets up, going to you.

"where's your food?"

You look at him and mumble you weren't hungry.

He's confused, but then looks over to where you came from.

Ah. Micah.

He narrows his eyes and walk over there. You try to tell him it's okay, but he doesn't stop.

"oi! Don't bother my friend!"

Basically screams at him to the point his accent is too thick to be even able to understand.

It doesn't do much, but you appreciate it.

He then walks over you and cups your cheeks.

"look, I love you Y/N, but I don't want to have to stuff food down your throat"

Tries to make you laugh.

Eventually ends up eating with you so you'll feel better.

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spacerangersam · 4 months

Note

Tell me more about your BBC Ghosts character swap AU please?

(like I wanna know from you about the other BH ghosts you didn't draw in their character swap AU version yet on what their character swap would be, for example Thomas, Mary & Robin please?)

Thanks!

I'd be happy to!

Thomas is a caveman, tricked into a fight by his cousin (with less of the dramatics though, since Francis couldn't have forged a letter) who either got stabbed with a spear or bonked on the head with a club. Regardless, he was killed and in death, gets to carry around a spear. It‘s big, cumbersome and annoying, and I just think it’s funny. He can give the living bruises with it.

To blabber on a bit: his name is actually To, but Julian thought that was stupid so renamed him Thomas, and he did originally come from Scotland. Though it wasn't called Scotland when he was there, obviously.

He struggles a lot with modern English - he’s lived through the rise and fall and change of so many languages that he really struggles to keep up. He slips between using new English and old English, French, old Brythonic languages etc, especially when he’s upset. That's what really kick-started his friendship with Patrick- Pat was the first one really willing to just stop and try to understand what Thomas was saying, and the first one to really sit down and help Thomas with his English. They have lessons every Thursday evening.

He still likes poetry, but because of all that he’s even worse at it. He also still hates Byron, just for less personal reasons.

With the whole having being around for thousands of years and watched people come and go, he's terrified of the other ghosts moving on without him. He doesn't like to sleep alone because of it, likes being able to keep an eye on at least one ghosts during the night. He tends to spend the night with Pat or Kitty, curled up on the foot of their beds, but he’ll stay with someone else now and then

Mary is a Girl Guide leader from the 80s. She's a timid woman to begin with, raised in a strict Catholic household, who works in a farm shop-come-cafe. She was encouraged to take up the Guide role by her husband to give her more confidence, and she stayed with it after his death. It didn't really make her more confident though, and her Guides quickly learned that they could walk all over her. She died while camping out on the Button grounds - some of the girls set a fire that quickly got out of control. Mary couldn't get out of her tent and died of asphyxiation (suspend your disbelief if you wouldn't mind). She still was close to Annie (and depending on how much you want to play around with the au, Annie could still be around, era switched with the plagues) and learned to be more confident through her.

She insists on doing grace at mealtimes, even though she can't eat, tells people off for blasphemy, and prays on Sundays in lieu of going to mass. The longer she's with the ghosts though, the less she does it. She has a few handy survival tools in her pockets, and like Pat, knows a thing or two about using a bow and arrow.

Robin is from the Georgian era, a nobleman's son who was sent to live with his uncle in hopes he'd straighten Robin out and turn him into a proper gentleman. Robin hated that idea. He planned to make a getaway and start a new life, one where he could just be himself, only to get struck by lightning before he ever made it off the grounds.

It's hard think of a Robin with ‘perfect’ speech, so I like to imagine he came over from North Wales, Welsh being his first language. He does speak English, albeit reluctantly, and has no desire to be fluent in it.

He's still outdoorsy and cares a lot about animals - his parents never had much time for him so he spent most of his time chasing around mice in the manor and sneaking into the stables to pet the horses. He can also still muck around with electricity.

I don't think I've talked about Julian either, but he's the headless Tudor. Much like in canon, he didn't pay much attention to his wife or child, which was ultimately his downfall when he unknowingly partied with people who were plotting to kill the queen and was damned by association. He got his head lobbed off, and the head can appear in photographs. He makes so many jokes about it.

I can't really think of much else to say at the moment but yeah, that's them

#sorry there's so much about thomas i just. i think about this version of tom and his relationship with pat a lot #roleswap au

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katy-l-wood · 1 year

Text

You know, I talk about my family Cabin on here a lot, but I don't think I've ever actually explained what the Cabin IS. So. Story time. We haven't had a story time in awhile.

This story starts sometime in the early 1900s with my great grandfather losing half his right hand in some sort of logging/mill/mining accident. The stories vary depending who in the family you ask. (He also ran mule trains over the mountains at some point.) But however he lost it, he ended up in the local hotel (which was a facade building, I believe, so just a glorified tent) because there was no hospital. There was also no doctor. Somehow somebody tracked down a nurse somewhere and brought her to the hotel.

BUT!

It was improper for this young woman to be alone with a man, even if she was trying to make him not be dead. The scandal!!!

So that nurse became my great-grandmother. No idea what their actual wedding was like, but I imagine it was rather interesting given they'd only known one another two days and he was still half delirious because of major injury.

Now we'll skip forward a bit. They decide to buy a few acres over in Middle Park/Grand County, and they're gonna start a little ranch up there. They pay some dude for the land and pack up the wagon (yes, wagon, the Colorado mountains didn't get the message that the century had changed until about 30-40 years after it happened). But then they arrived and, on no, they've been lied to! No land is waiting! They managed to get themselves a few acres anyway and went about starting their ranch and having 10+ children, all but one of whom lived to adulthood which was damn impressive. (Also worthwhile to note here that, until sometime in the 1950s, there was only one doctor in the whole county and she was a grumpy old lady who didn't believe in pain meds.)

Their youngest daughter died at 4, I believe from whooping cough, and less than a week later my great-grandfather came in from the fields, said he wasn't feeling well, laid down, and died. So now here's my great-grandmother in the middle of the Rockies in the 1920s with 10+ kids, some of them still under 10. And let me tell you, she kicked ass.

But what does all of this have to do with the Cabin you say? Well, see, those 10+ kids spread out all over the county, buying their own lands and marrying into the other families up there. Then along came the state saying "hey, we want to build a reservoir where your house is, get out." To which my great-grandmother said "fuck you." She said fuck you enough times that the family eventually ended up with 1000+ acres in exchange for moving off their little plot. They literally just picked up the house and moved it about 1/4 mile up the hill, and that original house is still there today.

Now, ever since then the family has sold off some of the land, but we still have a lot of it. The family cattle ranch is still operational as well, now run by one of my second cousins. A couple of my great-uncles also built houses on various parts of the property over the years, which is how we get to the Cabin.

My grandfather, the youngest living child of his parents, eventually moved down to Denver. But he still loved his home in the mountains, and wanted his 10 kids to experience that as well. One of the houses on the family property had fallen into disuse, to the point cows were living in it and having a grand old time. My grandfather decided to fix it up so that he and his kids could have a place to go up there. This was the first Cabin, referred to as Camp Grub. Until his sister-in-law, who technically owned the house with his brother, realized he'd fixed the house and went "oh, how nice of you! Get out, it's mine now."

Thus, the second Cabin came into being. Not wanting to give up on having a place up there, my grandfather found another cabin a few miles away and rented that. It was called the White House because it was. Well. White. This is where my dad and his 9 siblings grew up going all the time. Lots of fond memories of hunting, fishing, and general shenanigans. But then, early in the 90s, the owner of the property didn't renew my grandparent's lease.

This time, my grandparents wanted to get something they OWNED and couldn't be taken from them. They settled on the Cabin, which was again several miles away in a different spot. This third Cabin is the one we still have today, the little A-frame. It was named Moose Camp.

None of his children wanted him to buy an A-frame. Because A-frames are terrible. It could only sleep six people and, at this point, there were a good 20+ family members that wanted to use it. But my grandfather did not care. So we ended up with an A-frame that sits on 60ish acres and, at the time, was on the only tiny little flat spot of the entire 60ish acres.

My dad and his siblings, mostly in their 20s and early 30s at the time, took one look at this and decided nope. Must fix. So they promptly set about hand-digging a basement to add four more bedrooms, and they dug out a huge chunk of the hillside to create a flat spot for the garage and parking. Half the garage is a garage, the other half (separated by a wall) is an outdoor livingroom/dining area. There has been some other odds and ends projects done over the years such as cutting a couple RV parking spots out of the woods, but nothing else major.

Now, this is the Cabin I grew up in and the one we still have. I have spent nearly 30 years of my life going up there almost every weekend. After my parents divorced they started moving at least once a year each so from a very young age I never had a stable home except for the Cabin.

The whole family used it, and you never knew who was coming. It could be just a few people, or twenty. Sometimes people brought friends. Sometimes distant cousins showed up. My cousins and I had the run of the place, and the whole 60 acres. It was a grand old time, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. We all learned to shoot, to hunt, to be safe in the woods. We heard all the family stories, and visited the family that still lived up there. There were always at least two fridges full of food and it was just sort of a free for all of who ate what, didn't really matter who brought it. There were campfires out behind the garage. There were lazy days in the gazebo my dad and his siblings built for their mother from scrap wood.

After my grandparents died, the Cabin was put into a trust so that now all of their kids have an equal share in it. (Except for one, who we do not speak of, because she is not welcome in the family anymore, and another who has died.) Over the years, most of the family has used it less and less. My dad and I are now the ones who use it the most, and do most of the upkeep. I've got an uncle and an aunt (my dad's brother and sister) who come up a fair amount as well, but the uncle is getting a bit too old to really help out with the heavy projects and the aunt...well...she tries.

Other family does still come up, though. Some a handful of times every year, others only once a year or so. They usually find something to complain about (specifically one aunt who is a very my-way-or-the-highway person) or some project they think needs done, and they'll moan about it not getting taken care of, but never do anything about it. They leave and my dad and I continue to tinker with the plumbing, cut firewood for everyone else to use, clean out the fridges, restain the siding, fix the basement when it floods in the spring, plow the road, and everything else that needs done, never really bringing up the fact that we're the only real caretakers left of the place. If the rest of the family does manage to decide to do some sort of project my dad and I usually end up putting it back in order once they're gone, and they never notice.

We still visit the surrounding family, we still hunt, we still explore. But it's quieter now. It'll always be home, though. The only real home I've ever had. According to the rules of the trust, the property has to stay in the Wood family unless every member of the trust agrees to sell, which they'll never do. So it'll be there, in some form, for quite awhile.

(Putting the words Long Post in here so the tumblr filters can hide it even if other people don't tag it as such.)

#The Cabin #The Wood Family #Storytime #Long Post #Story time

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planetknoxville · 1 year

Text

You’re not my dad (Johnny Knoxville x Reader ft Bam)

Under 18 do not interact

Notes: I've read every bit of Knoxville fanfiction there is so im going to have to write my own. I need this man out of my head, it's becoming a problem. The time its set is kinda around movie 2 or 3 or 4 idk who cares. It's not quite fluff, not quite smut, just a kinda fatherly Johnny because I'm a sick sick individual. I made up a character called jess she a dickhouse chick i guess just made her up cause i hate the Y/N thing lol

Warning: Blood, drinking, swearing, reckless mentally ill behavior, daddy kink if you squint, etc

Please drink responsibly

words 2400ish

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Come on dipshit”

I looked up to find Bam standing in front of me with a cooler in one hand and both of your skateboards in the other. I knew that cooler wasn't his and would have bet this month’s salary on it containing beers he'd stolen from catering that were meant for after filming had wrapped for today.

“A bit presumptuous that I’d want to hang out with you Brandon”, You said peering over the top of the trash magazine you’d been pretending to read. The day was going very slowly, as only a few people were actually on set and the ones that were here were absorbed in work you wanted absolutely nothing to do with. So, there you were lounging in a camp chair waiting for some dumb stunt that you knew was not happening today.

“Come onnnnn..” he whined, kicking you squarely in the shin.

“You’re a menace to society” you said through gritted teeth. Sighing in resignation you rose from your chair and immediately shoving him as hard as you could. He barely stumbled and looked back at me with disbelief, “ Is that all you’ve got Jess?”

We slipped behind the sea of large blue tents that shielded the expensive camera equipment and crew from the sun. We’d been filming in the paramount lot for two weeks now, there were several air conditioned warehouses but no, the holy trio of Jeff, Spike and Johnny had decided that outside in the boiling Los Angeles heat was far better. You began to think they were really pranking you with melanoma.

Filming was usually fun but there was a lot of waiting around. Get ready and wait, they always say. Bam and I were a lot alike, both liked skating and found it especially hard to do nothing or sit still so naturally, we became fast friends. In the first couple of days of mucking around we had found a few unused (hopefully) planks of wood, a large flat sheet of plywood, some milk crates and other assorted junk which we squirreled away and started building our very own skate park. It was precarious and constantly breaking but that was half the fun. It was tucked away in the corner of the giant concrete lot, our own private death trap. Just few bushes, a metal park bench with a plaque of remembrance for some executive that probably should be forgotten and the two dickheads dumb enough to fuck around and find out.

You both started throwing beers back like it was your job. If we couldn’t do our actual jobs then we had to put our talents to good use. Technically, it was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, birds were chirping away, and sweat was dripping down your face right into your eyes.

“Fucking hell”, you moaned, using your sleeve to mop your brow blinking rapidly as the salt made your vison blurry. “Take off your jacket, Numbnuts,” Bam shouted.

“It's part of the outfit dummy” you did a little turn.

“You look homeless Jess.”

Unfortunately, it was kind of true. the black and white flannel you were wearing had more holes than you could count, the white crop was dangerously thin close to showing your nipple piercings and you'd patched up the knee of your jeans only last night. You'd done it drunk and after sticking yourself a few too many times declared it done and perfect. But you were afraid if you looked at it too close it would fall apart. The icing on the cake was the white bandana you had been wearing as a shitty ineffective mask to get past the covid police that was still tied around your neck. A plague neckerchief if you will.

"Fine" you slipped it off your shoulders. Bundling it up into a ball, you took aim throwing it at the metal bench but missed, landing it directly in the middle of a bush. “Good one” Bam sneered. You rolled your eyes behind your sunglasses, aware that he probably couldn't even see it, so you flipped him off to drive the point home.

You heard the general chatter from inside the tent grow louder and the both of you froze, looking at each other in mild panic. It wasn’t necessarily a secret what you’d been doing, people generally knew where to find us but you weren’t super keen on having soul sucking executives know about the giant liability that the two of you had created (outside of the carefully planned stunts).

“Shit” we both scrambled to throw our discarded beer bottles behind our friend The Bush.

Two men started walking around the tarps and into our janky club house. As they got closer, you both audibly relaxed. It was Spike and Johnny. “Calm down guys we’re not here to break up the party” Spike still looked annoyed “it’s not like we can go ahead anyway today”

Johnny touched him on the shoulder and said “bring the camera back here, one of these idiots is bound to eat shit" he looked over his stupid aviators at me, winking. “I’ll bet $100 it will be you Doll”.

My cheeks started to grow hot and not from the beer. How did he always know what to say, it took all your self-control not to turn and stare. Like most women alive you found him irresistible, but you were dealing with it by pretending he didn’t exist. The men continue to stand in the cool shade, chatting but also watching. You hated that. Please fuck off Knoxville let me look like shit in peace, you thought bitterly

We began skating again, trying to stick the landing of a ramp we'd built only the day before. You’d even “borrowed” the props department's power drill because Bam was moaning about going the extra mile. You took your run up and predictably the ramp bowed in middle causing you to bail half way through stumbling and tripping over your board. You could feel the four beers you’d sculled sloshing around in your stomach, cheering you on internally.

Spike started to clap slowly, jeering sarcastic encouragement “You've almost got it”

“It's looking like a really good doll” Johnny, not even trying to keep a straight face.

“This is not conducive to my success fossils” You got back on your board rolling over to the cooler. Johnny put a hand over his heart feigning emotional distress.

Cracking another beer, you saw Johnny raise an eyebrow. You'd think for a man with his history, he’d be a little cooler. “You want one Irving? You need to loosen up”.

Turning away from the death glare and back to Bam who was lining up for his turn.

“That shit is wobblier than your ass,” you whined.

Bam laughed “You're leaning into it way too much”.

“Then you fucking do it” you shoved him as you passed continuing to circle the ramp draining your beer and throwing it into the bush. It missed hitting the side of the bench breaking into a million pieces.

“Jess!!!” a chorus rang out and I raised my hands in an admission of guilt. “Don't worry baby I'll clean it up”. Snatching up and popping the top off another beer, you made a show of putting it safely on the ground out of the way. You could feel Johnny's eyes burning right through as you and Bam began to giggle uncontrollably.

“You've got this right? I’m going home” Spike clapped Johnny on the back. “I will see you both tomorrow whether or not you’re hungover” he pointed his fingers at us. Simultaneously we both sprang to attention “Sir, yes Sir” arms raised in a salute. He walked away mumbling and rolling his eyes.

“Thank god”, you cheekily beamed, “because I'm drunk as fuck”. Bam grinned back “let's hang here for a while, I've got something special”. From his pocket he pulled a silver flask. Gleefully you grabbed it, downing a huge mouthful.

“Woahhhh” Johnny shouted “You need to take it fucking easy”.

“Alright precious” You handed the flask back reluctantly.

“Did you know I used to be a gymnast?” you shouted back, “Could put my legs behind my head”. Johnny's mouth fell open in what you didn’t know was shock or disapproval. Bam barked a laugh, half of his sip coming out his mouth, the other out his nose. You patted him on the back patronizingly as he doubled over coughing still laughing.

“I can still do some of the tricks”. You launched yourself forward in a cartwheel. “I used to be able to do this thing, we called it the Hawk Tony”.

“Why?” Bam wheezed.

“Cause you skate upside down.”

Lining up with the skateboard, you took a deep breath and let the liquor flood your body with electricity. You planted my hands directly in the middle of the grip, balancing carefully and flicking your legs up vertically. A pretty decent handstand you thought for a bitch ten years out of practice. You hear Johnny let out a low whistle “Why didn't I think of that”.

“Well well look at you go” Bam said “Can you move?” As if a handstand on a skateboard was not enough? “You bet” I balanced on one hand, using the other to push off the concrete. Balancing was a lot harder than you remember and you needed to push off several times, but you did a circle around the park, stood up with only the slightest wobble, then raised your hands in a proper dismount and bowed to the now clapping Bam and Johnny.

“Jess!!! Look at yourself” Bam shouted. Thinking my shoelace had come undone I glanced down only to see scarlet droplets raining down on the concrete. I pressed my fingers to my face as if to check for a nosebleed when I saw my hand.

A bloody gash with a shard of broken glass. Beer bottle glass. "If it isn’t the consequences of my own actions”. Johnny started walking over, Bam stood motionless with an unopened bottle in his hand.

“Seriously guys don't even worry it's not that bad” you looked over at Johnny and smiling like an idiot you took two bloody fingers and wiped it over your cheek like some kind of grotesque Eye Black that footballers wore. You pulled the glass from your palm, undoing the bandana from around your neck and tying it around your hand, tightening it with your teeth.

Johnny reached his hands out for you, “Come here kid, let me look at it”. Very quickly and impulsively you chucked down your board and rode out of his grasp. “Are you shitting me, Jess? Come back here”.

“I'm fine, Mr Knoxville. It's just a scratch.” You teased. The alcohol had made you feel nothing but a warm confidence. Bam had unfrozen coming over to stand next to Johnny like two disapproving parents. “Seriously, dude. You're bleeding kinda a lot.” he said nervously.

“Oh no, someone is bleeding on the set of Jackass. What a tragedy. How will I ever survive??” You waved your hands around in the air dramatically, unaware of the blood slowly but surely dripping down your fingers. You continued skating around, deaf to their pleas to stop and come to the medical tent. You snagged another beer, this time using your teeth to open the bottle.

“You guys are being ridiculous, okay I’m fine” You downed most of the beer as a trophy for your misguided victory lap. Johnny turned to bam, whispered something to him. “What are you girls gossiping about?” You queried.

Bam nodded, got on his board and started skating around. Thinking he'd finally relaxed, you rode alongside him grinning. He was just a board length ahead of you when he sharply cut in front of you, and you had to abruptly stop, staggering sidewards. “Bam you fucking stupid cun...” Your stream of profanity cut off by legendary stuntman and actor Johnny Knoxville HOISTING you over one shoulder and hauling your bloody drunken ass towards the medic tent.

“Fucking put me down” you squeal wiggling desperately. This was the most mortifying thing you could have ever imagined, you’d rather drown in horse cum. You couldn't help noticing how effortlessly he carried you, like a ragdoll, he'd picked you up like you weighed nothing.

“Darlin, you should have come on your own when I gave you the chance”.

“Please put me down, I'll walk”. You whined now seeing the blood-soaked bandana, your head swimming from both the beer and being upside down. You could see the trail of red you’d left, staining the footpath and his white shirt where you were grasping at. He continued on his way ignoring your cries, leaving a bemused Bam to pour beer on the ground to wash away the literal crime scene you caused.

“Asshole You're not my dad”.

“Well, someone's gotta be, doll”, he drawled. God that accent, it pulsed straight to your core. You'd fantasized about him manhandling you sure but not like this. “PUT ME DOWN” you all but screamed at him. You pulled hard on his belt, hard enough to rip the stitches on his belt loops, leaving bloody smears on the white letters that spelled KNOXVILLE. You heard him hiss and then he slapped you hard, half on the butt, half on the top of your thighs. You were genuinely speechless. Humiliated and in increasingly more pain, tears filled your eyes and you finally stopped struggling.

“If I'd known spanking you would have gotten you to behave, I would have done it weeks ago” He chuckled, bending his knees slightly to enter the tent. He put you down on your feet with a shit eating grin plastered all over his smug, stupid, beautiful face. You stared at him blankly as his features blurred with the bright light they had illuminating the tent, your own head swimming and you could hear ringing. His strong muscular arms snaked out, grasping your shoulders as you swayed slightly forward, slumping your head against his chest. “Baby it’s okay, Take it easy”. He held you gently and whispered the comforting words against the top of your hair as the confused but attentive medic pulled forward a stretch for him to lay you on. You moaned at the loss of contact, cringing internally that you’d made a sound like that out loud, but he held this small smile on his lips. He grabbed your other hand and murmured into the back of it “It’s okay, I’ve got you”. As your head began clear, you started to sober up and the medic cleaned and dressed your wound, you looked over to see Johnny staring intently at you with a egotistical smirk plastered on his awful handsome face.

“What?” You groaned desperately trying to cover your face with your arm, but he held your fingers in a firm embrace. Forcing you to keep looking at him. How were you ever going to live this down.

“I guess you owe me that hundred bucks baby girl”.

#johnny knoxville #jackass x reader #jackass #bam margera #jackass imagine #johnny knoxville fic #Johnny Knoxville smut #johnny knoxville x reader #steve o #dickhouse

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