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theragethatisdesire · 8 months

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cabin in the woods - eren x reader x jean - 18+!!!

part three of our polyverse woo! i wanted to write something intense for spooky season, but not like, a slasher fic, and you know eren would have the biggest primal play kink ever so here we are. the besties have been in their little poly relationship for a year and this is their anniversary trip <3 (and they're just so cute i need to put them in my pocket). enjoy what @fictional-d-supremacy and i came up with and....i don't even know what else to say. i love this one, prob in my top 3 of all time, i just love poly!erejean <3

pairing: eren jaeger x reader x jean kirschstein

wc: 9.5k (good lord)

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

*deep breath* CWs: primal play (for some people, it may read as dubcon, so please familiarize yourself with what this means, you are responsible for your triggers!), consensual sex, established relationship, use of names (pet, baby, angel, princess, slut, bitch), breeding kink, biting, fingering, oral sex (fem and male receiving), anal play, anal sex, double penetration, mlm (eren and jean are in an established relationship and kiss at one point), degradation, objectification, multiple orgasm, threesome, bi!eren, bi!jean, dirty talk, creampie, polyamory

OKAY now that that's out of the way.....have fun babies!

There’s something about the crisp autumn breeze drifting in through the open windows, twisting through Jean’s Jeep with the same rhythm as the car itself winding up the side of the mountain, that sends a vicious shudder down your spine. You try to roll your window up to fight the chill, but Eren whines from behind you and thuds a heavy boot against your seat in protest.

“You said if I let you have shotgun, we could keep the windows down the whole time.”

“It’s freezing!”

“But I get carsick,” Eren grumbles, glaring at you in the rearview mirror. Jean sighs in a tone that sounds a lot like exasperation, reaching over to turn your heated seat on.

“Better?”

“A little,” you smile softly at him, laying your palm over the warm hand he rests on your knee, “are we almost there?”

“It’s just around this corner,” Jean assures you, hazel eyes flitting back over to the gravelly, curving road. You take a moment to admire him: strong brow, regal, elegant nose, pouty lips that you know to be soft from experience. The simple knowledge that Jean is yours, yours to kiss and touch whenever you want, is enough to send a thrill through you. Your moment of adoration is cut short by Eren throwing his arms over the seat, digging his hands into your shoulders in a rough massage.

“You’re going to love this place, babe,” Eren says behind your ear. The buzzy excitement thrumming through his voice makes a small grin tug at the corner of your mouth; Eren’s moods are contagious more often than not, and he’s been miraculously cheerful all day. “Mama Kirschstein’s got the hook-up.”

“You’re still calling her that?” Jean rolls his eyes, “she’s been telling you to call her Jane for the last eight years.”

“Are you sure she doesn’t mind us coming up?” You eye Jean nervously, reaching up to squeeze one of Eren’s larger hands for reassurance. “I know she had a bit of trouble, y’know…”

“When I told her it was our anniversary, she offered us the house for the weekend. I didn’t even ask,” Jean veers left onto a narrow dirt path, “I know it took her a minute to come around, but she adores you now. I promise.”

“She’s always adored me,” Eren adds unhelpfully, ruffling your beanie and consequently wrecking your hair, “but I guess she was able to find room in her heart for the both of us.”

“Eren, stop it– ugh, thank you. What has got you in such a good mood?” You turn over your shoulder to look at him, practically brimming with energy. Eren’s always despised road trips, yet he’s been the picture of eagerness all day.

“Just excited to spend some time alone in the woods with my two favorite people, what’s so wrong with that?” Eren grins widely at you, sharp canines glinting in the early afternoon light. Something about his smile seems…not insincere, more like overly sincere. It’s not at all out of the realm of possibility for Eren to have some grandiose, ridiculous surprise waiting for you in his suitcase, or for him to simply be bouncing out of his seat in anticipation of all the weekend away, anniversary sex you’re about to have. You chalk it up to one or the other, ignoring the strangely stern look Jean shoots him.

“Oh my god!” You cover your mouth to muffle the excited squeal that comes creeping up your throat upon sight of the cabin. The “cabin” turns out to be an isolated, sprawling home with several wings, beautiful beyond your wildest dreams. Massive slabs of stone make up the columns supporting an overhang that covers a ten-foot-tall door, the garden beds on either side of the walkway have been manicured to perfection, and there’s a winding stone path that leads to the back of the house through a covered walkway that connects the main house to the garage. It’s practically been ripped out of Architectural Digest. “It’s like it’s not even real.”

“Kirschstein money always gets the panties dropping,” Eren scoffs, practically kicking his door open the moment the car rolls to a stop, “I forgot how nice this place was.”

“Shut up,” Jean grumbles, rolling his eyes at Eren before setting his adoring gaze on you, “you like it, princess?”

“I love it,” you gush, jumping out of the car to get a better look, bag forgotten in the trunk. You can hear the boys bickering about luggage somewhere behind you, but all you can focus on is the vast nothingness around you, the sleepy chirping of cicadas in the trees, and the warmly lit home that belongs to you and your two gorgeous boyfriends for the weekend. Who says no one ever had it all?

“Are you excited?” Eren comes charging up behind you, arms encircling your waist and lips pecking every square inch of your neck he can reach.

“I’m so excited,” you giggle, shoving him off so that you can run to Jean and throw your arms around his shoulders, “thank you both so much—oh, we have to call your mom and thank her! Can we? Please?”

“In a bit,” Jean chuckles, scooping you up into his arms so you can wrap your legs around his waist, “don’t you want to see the inside first?”

“Yes–”

“I don’t know, Jean,” Eren saunters over, something mischievous flitting over his face that, if you were any less drunk on raw excitement, you would know immediately not to trust, “she may want to get a look at the woods before the sun goes down. What do you say, baby? Wanna go for a hike?”

“Eren,” Jean says, a very thin note of hesitation in his tone that you, in your giddiness, stampede right over.

“Just a quick one, Jean? Is that alright?”

“However long you want, angel,” Eren answers for Jean and smiles at you charmingly, entirely ignoring Jean’s widened eyes.

“Let’s do that,” you whip your wide, happy eyes back to Jean, a pleading grin on your face, “and then you can give me a tour of the inside. I just want to get a few Instagram pictures before we end up not putting clothes on again for the entire weekend.”

Jean smiles at you, some odd combination of endearment and something darker that you can’t quite make out—pity?—crossing his face. “Anything you want. Drop the bags on the porch, Eren? I’ll take her out back.”

Eren’s grin grows impossibly wider, a little glint in his eye. “Be right there.”

After your awkward, giggle-filled struggle to monkey-climb from Jean’s front onto his back without dropping to the ground, Jean, arms hooked firmly under your legs, walks you around the house, identifying little points of interest as he goes. He points out his childhood rope swing, tattered and still dangling from one of the massive oaks in the front yard, a few flower bushes that he remembers helping his mom plant. You can feel the swell of your heart in your chest as Jean walks you through his memories, snorting to himself when he recounts the tale of Eren nearly choking to death trying to hold his breath in the hot tub and growing misty-eyed when he points out his grandparents’ initials carved into a wooden bench in the garden.

You reach a point of the property where the meticulously groomed grass gives way to fallen leaves and patches of barren earth, a visible line between civilization and nature. A small wriggle from you lets Jean know you’re ready to hop down, and he bends at the knee slightly so you can slide off of his back.

“It really is a beautiful property,” you tell him earnestly, “I can’t thank you enough for bringing us here.”

“What’s mine is yours,” Jean, in that heartbreaking way of his, looks down at you like you’re the only thing he could ever want for, “you know that.”

“Still. Thank you.” You have to consciously focus on your breathing; you wonder if Jean knows he has this effect on people, if he knows that the way raw love lays itself bare in his eyes chokes whoever’s in his line of sight.

“It’s as much a gift for me as it is for you,” Jean leans down to nip at your ear, two large hands finding their way around your waist, “I’ve got you both away from work, out in the middle of nowhere, all to myself…”

“Jean!” It comes out as a clunky, airy giggle, half of the letters still jumbled in your throat where the breath is caught. He smirks against your neck, sinking his teeth in here, licking over a sore patch of skin there. The mountain breeze follows in his wake, kissing over the wet spots he leaves behind and raising goosebumps on the back of your neck.

“Getting started without me?” Eren’s voice startles you, makes you jump in Jean’s grip. Jean responds to your flightiness by spinning you on your heels and pressing your back to his chest, arms locked firmly under your breasts and head tucked onto your shoulder.

“We were waiting for you,” you answer, letting your eyes graze over Eren appreciatively as he approaches. As long as you’ve known him, autumn has always looked good on Eren. Something about the decaying colors around him makes his eyes that much more vibrant, the glow of them in the late afternoon sun almost reminding you of a predator at night, tucked behind bushes. Big cozy flannels only make his frame look broader, and the curl of his grown-out bangs around his pink ears makes you want to pinch his cheeks.

“Didn’t look like you were waiting,” Eren eyes Jean in annoyance, but the curl of his lip gives him away.

“She’s still here, isn’t she?” Jean counters, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“Where else would I be?” You laugh, shoving him back from you. Eren and Jean’s eyes meet, some dangerous, tangible glimmer passing between them. “What?”

“Nothing, angel,” Eren whistles, spinning you around yet again and locking your shoulders underneath his arm, beginning to walk you into the woods, “don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

“I’m not worried,” you roll your eyes, letting him drag you further into the forest, “you guys are just being weird.”

“Are we?” Jean’s arm comes sneaking around your waist, “I don’t think we are. Do you, Eren?”

“Not at all,” Eren shrugs, pulling out his phone, “looks like we still have two hours til sunset. That seems like enough time for a hike, don’t you think, Jean?”

“Oh, that’s definitely enough time.”

You tilt your head up, a slight scowl indenting your forehead, flitting your eyes between the two of them. They’re hardly paying attention to you, staring at each other in a way that you’re not unfamiliar with. That explains the oddities of their behavior today; typical boys, just excited to jump into bed later. You barely contain another eye roll, instead opting to let them have their teasing fun and focus on the grandiosity of the forest around you.

The canopy is tall, taller than you would have expected; it feels like the dwindling population of leaves above your head is in a different world than the crunch of their fallen comrades under your feet. That pesky breeze is still there, keeping your nerve endings jumpy with the ever-present chill, but the warmth of the colors around you almost makes up for it. Everywhere you look seems to be on fire, yellows and oranges and reds blending the landscape together into a closer approximation to an abstract painting than a scene out of nature.

Easily half an hour ticks by as you stroll, all three of you having fallen into a comfortable, contemplative silence. You don’t miss the way Eren’s hand will occasionally drift from your shoulder to the back of your neck, ghosting over the skin and running through the baby hairs there, making you shiver. Jean follows suit, his arm around your waist slipping a bit low once in a while, palm cupping your ass and squeezing appreciatively. You ignore them both in favor of taking advantage of the beautiful scenery, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t affecting you. That familiar warmth curls in your stomach, molten and hungry, and the tips of your fingers twitch in your pockets, aching to replace the fabric that surrounds them with skin.

Eventually, you all reach a picturesque clearing with a gorgeous overhang, and you see your opportunity.

“Wait, stop right here,” you finally break the silence, squirming in the boys’ arms to snag your phone out of your back pocket, “this is perfect.”

“Instagram time?” Jean tries and fails to keep the bored tone out of his voice.

“We only have, like, five pictures together, and we’ve been together for over a year.”

“That’s not true,” Eren protests, “I have an album full–”

“How many of those pictures are share-able?” You cock a knowing eyebrow at him.

“Um, probably like…two.”

“My point exactly.”

Through a bit of manhandling and arguing over who should hold the phone, you make out with at least three usable selfies (the boys refused to entertain your self-timer idea), which far exceeds the amount of photos you expected to leave this trip with.

“Why don’t you let us take a few of just you?” Jean suggests, reaching for your phone with an honest smile and giving Eren a subtle nudge.

“Really?”

“Sure,” Eren jumps in, nodding and smiling along, “a few pictures of our pretty girl out in the woods on our special trip.”

“And it would be cute for your Instagram, right?” Jean adds, patting you lightly on the bottom.

“Okay,” you agree, too thrilled at their sudden interest in your quest for a nice Instagram post to think too much into the way Eren’s tongue swipes along his bottom lip, the way Jean’s holding your phone so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

“Just walk out that way, there you go.” You can hear Jean’s voice, with a strange little tremor to it, growing quieter behind you when Eren ushers you off in the opposite direction. You leave your phone with Jean, alternating between a little jog and a walk away from them, moving further into the clearing and keeping your back to the boys.

“Was that cute, or stupid?”

Your nervous giggle echoes in the clearing, the rustling of leaves the only answer you receive. You make a few different poses, feeling a little silly but willing to endure it in the interest of getting a couple of nice photos. You notice the distinct lack of sound around you, how for just a moment, it feels like the universe consists of just you, Eren, and Jean, alone in these woods and miles from any other human. It hits you that that’s not entirely untrue; the last house you’d seen had to have been fifteen minutes before you’d gotten to Jean’s driveway.

You call back to them, wanting at least a little feedback and, honestly, beginning to feel a bit creeped out by the uncharacteristic silence ringing in your ears. “Are they turning out good?”

Nothing.

“What the hell?” you finally whip back around to face them, stomping your foot petulantly, “are you two like, messing with me?”

When you turn to meet them, however, all the fire in your throat dies out as quickly as if a bucket of ice water had been tossed on it.

Jean and Eren are smiling at you, which wouldn’t be too odd of a sight, if it weren’t for the threatening glitter in their eyes, the way Eren’s tilting his head ever so slightly to the right. You’ve never seen an expression like this on either one of them, never seen something so…dangerous cross their faces.

“Run.”

“I’m sorry?” You scrunch your nose at Eren, confused. His smile only grows wider.

“Run.”

“Run?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” Jean shakes his head disapprovingly, eyeing you down through the streaks of sunlight bleeding into the clearing.

“Forgot what?” Your words tremble as they make their way out into the still air. They’re your boyfriends, the men that wake you up with feather-light kisses and hoist you onto their shoulders at concerts, so why are your fingers beginning to shake?

“About that little book of yours we found,” Jean answers, cocking his head. “Surely you didn’t think we’d forget, did you?”

“No, I know she remembers,” Eren grits out through a clenched jaw, bristling under the soothing palm Jean runs over the back of his neck.

The memory hits you like a train. Coming home to find Jean and Eren hunched over a smutty novel of yours, blushing furiously and frowning in concentration. Confronting them only to find out they’d stumbled across the primal play chapter, that they’d noticed that these pages in particular looked a little well-worn. Jean had asked you if you would ever try it, Eren had raised his eyebrows when you admitted that yes, you would absolutely live that fantasy out if given the chance. Your face had burned as you nervously giggled, brushing the idea off in the sense that it was unrealistic to act out such a scenario in the middle of the city.

But you’re not in the city now. You’re in the forest, alone with your two boyfriends who are looking at you like they might rip you to shreds.

“No,” you murmur, so quietly that if the woods weren’t so still and silent, it wouldn’t have reached their ears, “I–I didn’t…I remember.”

“There it is,” Eren says, eyes glinting at you and arousal practically dripping off of his words as they make their way to your ears, “knew you did.”

“Weren’t lying, right? You wouldn’t lie to us, would you, pet?” Jean’s voice is steely and sharp with the implication that you had better not lie to him.

Words are lost on you amidst the thundering of your pulse in your ears, and you simply shake your head back and forth slowly. Some survival instinct from deep in the recesses of your brain tells you not to take your eyes off of them for a second, has every muscle in your body twitching. Despite the uneasy adrenaline coursing through your veins, a firm knot of arousal has taken hold in your lower stomach, simmering and spitting in excitement from the hungry looks on Eren and Jean’s faces.

“We’ll give you a ten second head start,” Eren says, dragging his eyes over your frame and licking at his bottom lip, “just to give you a fighting chance.”

“Sound good?” Jean tilts his head, raising an eyebrow at you. You know this is your moment to laugh this whole thing off, to return to the cozy interior of the cabin and put your feet up, have some hot chocolate, be kissed softly and held gently between their two strong bodies. This is Jean giving you an out, if you want it.

“Okay,” you agree, fingers fluttering nervously by your side.

“Good girl,” Jean nods approvingly, clenching and unclenching his fist, “ready?”

You nod back to him, knees shaking under your frame and a cold sweat breaking out over the back of your neck.

“Then fucking run,” Eren growls, grinning feral and wicked in the afternoon sun.

To your own surprise, you turn on your heel almost instantaneously, tearing off into the woods as fast as you can. The boots you’ve decided to wear are certainly not built for speed, but the thick soles are perfect for carrying you over the rough terrain, supporting your ankles and keeping them from twisting as you sprint through the woods.

You veer left, suddenly realizing that everything around you looks…the same. There’s no identifying markers, no path back to the cabin, no way to tell one tree full of decaying leaves from another. It brings you pause, your feet coming to a halt. It strikes you that you hadn’t been paying very close attention during your initial hike through the woods, and that even if you tried, you aren’t sure what direction will lead you back to the cabin. Eren and Jean have actually trapped you out here.

The crushing realization nearly makes your heart stop. You’re unable to suspend your disbelief enough to remember that these are your boyfriends chasing you; the only thought your brain can hold onto is that you’re being chased, and that you need to run.

The thudding of footsteps approaching shakes you out of your realization, has your feet moving at lightning speed the second you hear it. You don’t slow to look over your shoulder to see which one of them it is, just let your feet carry you far away as fast as you can manage. It dawns on you that the feeling coursing through you, bringing warmth to your face, is some unbelievable mixture of fear and arousal.

You can’t tell the color of either feeling apart, can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. Maybe they’re bleeding into each other, a symphony of passions ripping their way through every cord of muscle in your body, through every electrified nerve ending as you run away from what you want more than anything in this moment.

The footsteps behind you begin to fade, and as your breathing gets heavier and harsher, you realize you won’t be able to keep this pace; your best shot is running hard in short bursts and stopping to rest in between. You reach another clearing, much smaller than the one you had started out in, and lined with an assortment of bushes and a fallen tree. Just as you hunch over to catch your breath, you hear the return of those stomping footsteps, far behind you, but there all the same. The sharp pain ricocheting through your chest is warning enough to stop you from running again, and your eyes dart around in a panic, finally honing in on an area of the brush that looks thick enough to conceal you in your dark clothing, if you strip out of your light purple flannel.

As the footsteps draw closer, you hurriedly dive into the tangle of leaves and branches of the brush, ripping your flannel off of your arms as you go. You wince at the scrape of thorns and sticks on the soft, bare skin of your arms, but claw your way deeper, crouching down to conceal your body and twirling on your tippy-toes to peer through the leaves into the clearing.

It’s Jean, tall and imposing as he marches into the clearing. His chest is heaving under his shirt, hair mussed from running through the autumn wind. You marvel at him, so large and threatening, eyes blown wide and flicking from one area to another suspiciously, looking. Looking for you.

“Pet?” Jean whirls around, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Are you hiding from me?”

You don’t dare make a sound, positive that your heart is pounding so hard that if someone looked at your neck, they’d be able to see the frantic push and pull of your pulse through the skin. Jean surveys the area, narrowing his eyes at the brush where you’re hiding, but miraculously, turning his head the other way. You need to keep moving, especially considering that you’re so close to Jean, but with the increasingly small distance between you, there’s no way that you’ll be able to quietly sneak out of the brush. Just as you’re formulating a plan to wait and see which way he runs next, so you can run in the opposite direction, Jean’s eyes catch on something that makes your breath hitch.

“Uh-oh,” Jean exhales, stepping closer to you and crouching, his grin growing darker. When his hand comes back into your line of sight, you nearly gasp, one hand flying to the naked top of your head. He’s holding your beanie, grinning down at it. Hardly another moment passes before Jean’s eyes flicker to you, darkening as soon as you make eye contact through the leaves.

“Shit,” you breathe, scrambling back onto your hands and crawling desperately through the branches and leaves behind you, grimacing as a particularly sharp thorn scratches deep into your cheek.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jean laughs cruelly, jumping over the fallen tree trunk and towering over you as soon as you’ve escaped the brush. You stumble to your feet, but Jean’s quick, snagging you by the elbow before you can run off.

“Jean, please,” you gasp, looking up at him with wide, panicked eyes. It occurs to you that now that you’ve been caught, you’re not begging to be let go of– you’re begging to be held. Now that you’re so close to him, face to face with the shine of sweat on his collarbones, the rise and fall of his broad chest, your arousal is tangible, pumping through your veins thick like honey. You wet your lips, feeling the source of your panting move from your lungs to your core.

“Oh,” Jean’s bottom lip pushes out, “what’s the matter? Want to be my little princess again, is that it?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod frantically, looking over your shoulder and then Jean’s to see if Eren’s approaching to spoil your plan, “please Jean. Want to be your princess.”

“Aw,” Jean hums thoughtfully, cocking his head and looking down on you with pitying eyes for just long enough that you smile softly in relief, feel a rush of anticipation shoot through you. Unconsciously, you tilt your chin up, expectant and ready for him to catch you in a kiss. In the next instant, he’s gripping your arm even harder, with a jerk that makes your eyes water. “Too bad. You’re not my little princess out here.”

Your heart drops to your stomach, a clammy sweat breaking over your skin. Just as you’re about to plead one last time, Jean gives you a cruel smile.

“Eren! I’ve got her!” Jean shouts into the woods, turning his head over his shoulder to help the sound carry.

“Jean!” Your betrayal and frustration make your voice hoarse. Jean leans in to you, grinning wickedly.

“If I were you, I’d run. He’s not going to be nearly as nice as me.”

You wrench your arm out of his grasp, turning on your heel and darting further into the woods, grimacing at the feel of your wetness soaking through your panties. Jean’s footsteps are quick to catch up with you; or, at least, you think they’re Jean’s. You’re not going to break your stride to chance a look. You can’t outpace him, but you’re small and nimble enough that you think you may be able to outmaneuver him. You zigzag wildly through the trees, and it seems to be working, as Jean’s footsteps grow softer and softer behind you. Your lungs burn and your eyes water viciously, but you don’t dare relinquish the small distance you’ve managed to put between yourself and Jean, forcing your aching muscles to push harder and harder.

Suddenly, you spot it: a treehouse, with a little wooden ladder dangling from the bottom. It sounds like Jean’s footsteps are far enough behind you to afford you plenty of time to scramble up the ladder, at the very least to plan your next move. It wouldn’t be so bad if he saw you, either; the treehouse, as derelict as it may look, affords a nice sheltered spot for Jean to corner you in…

Your feet make the decision before your mind has the chance to catch up, and you’re beelining towards the treehouse, approaching it quickly. When you step on the first rung of the ladder, you feel the porous, rotten wood give a little underneath your weight, but the pounding of footsteps approaching urges you on. You make it two more steps up when one of the treacherous wooden rungs snaps under the pressure.

“Shit!” You squeal, clutching the ladder harder in an attempt not to tumble to the forest floor. You persevere, looking forward to whatever could await you if the boys were to follow you up to the treehouse. Two more steps up and you’re halfway there, but a pair of strong arms lock around your waist and pull you towards the ground with a harsh yank, ripping a yelp from your throat.

“Not a bad try,” you instantly recognize Eren’s voice, but what you don’t recognize is the rasp to it, the gravelly, dark tone, “but you didn’t really think you could run from me, did you?”

You thrash so violently that you think you must have hit him, because he drops you suddenly with a hiss. As soon as your feet hit the ground you take a few blind, wobbly steps in the opposite direction, only to run smack into Jean’s chest. You look up, wide, watery eyes blinking at Jean as your dizzied brain tries to grasp onto what’s at hand. You’re caught. They caught you.

“Going somewhere?” Jean sneers, grabbing you by your wrists and whipping you around to face Eren. The sight you’re greeted with has you squeezing your thighs together, a thick swallow sliding down your throat.

Eren’s eyes are blown wide, the bottomless black of his pupils nearly eclipsing the beautiful green you’re used to admiring. There’s a little sheen of sweat covering him, making him almost glow in the late afternoon light, and the veins in his neck are prominent with his heavy breathing. He runs his tongue over the now-split portion of his lip, courtesy of you, smearing a bit of blood over his mouth, and drags his eyes along every inch of you like he isn’t quite sure where he wants to start.

“I thought I told you to run,” Jean says, hot and taunting against the shell of your ear, “but it didn’t look like you tried very hard. Almost makes me think you wanted to be caught.”

“Of course she did,” Eren answers for you, stepping forward to run a thoughtful thumb across your cheek, making you flinch when he brushes over a cut on your face, “you want to get fucked, don’t you?”

You’re not sure what to do, whether you should nod your head enthusiastically or choke out a stuttered word of confirmation or maybe bite back; you feel frozen, overwhelmed by their looming figures and the fiery hot adrenaline still pumping through your veins. Eren decides for you, rubbing his thumb over your lips, and shoving it into your mouth. A coppery taste washes over your tongue, and you realize it’s your blood, fresh from the cut on your face. You suck his thumb in obediently, let him fishhook his thumb in your cheek, tugging your mouth this way and the other. Eren spits right in your mouth, nearly missing and splattering it all over your chin and cheeks.

“Nasty little bitch,” Eren snarls, shoving his mouth to yours.

What he does to you can barely be described as a kiss; it’s more like Eren devouring you. Teeth clack together, his tongue shoves into your mouth so violently you nearly bite down in your surprise. Eren sucks your tongue into his mouth, groaning low and hungry when you whimper.

“You taste good,” Eren murmurs hurriedly into your mouth, biting harshly on your lip and grinning against you when it makes you whine, “can taste the blood from that cut on your cheek.”

Jean stutters out a groan from behind you, his restraining grip on your wrists tightening. You feel his mouth begin to venture down your neck much like it had before, but his teeth are more demanding as they sink into your soft skin this time, more intent on taking, on marking you. One of Eren’s hands finds its way to your chest, grabbing harshly at your breast through your shirt. The ache of his strong fingers makes your back arch towards him, a breathless gasp leaving your lips.

“Show me,” Eren pants, finally backing away from you and ripping at your tank top, yanking it towards your head. There’s a shiny mixture of saliva and your blood staining his chin pink; shamefully, it makes a fresh rush of heat fly through your body, makes the wetness collecting between your thighs that much more prominent.

“We’re outside–” you try to protest, but a corrective slap to your ass from Jean shuts you up.

“No one’s around,” Jean says, mouth back on your shoulder as soon as Eren’s removed the offending garment from you, “it’s just us.”

“No one’s going to hear you scream,” Eren voices what you’re thinking with a nasty grin, bringing a hand to each of the cups of your bra and gripping the plush fabric hard enough to turn his knuckles white, tearing the connective fabric with a loud rip.

“Eren!” You squeal in surprise, practically jumping in Jean’s arms.

“That’s it,” Eren groans, leaning down and lathing his tongue across a deep cut above your right breast, something you hadn’t noticed in your fearful escape from the bush earlier, “let me fucking hear you.”

Jean’s got your wrists contained in one of his large hands, not minding the swing of your ruined bra around each of your arms, reaching his other hand around your waist to fiddle desperately with the clasp of your jeans.

“Eren,” he says sharply, drawing Eren’s attention to the fact that your pants are still on. Eren smirks.

“Pick her up,” he answers, voice gravelly. Jean lifts you off the ground, your back pressed to his chest, feet dangling in the air. Eren rips both of your boots off, tossing them to the forest floor. Still pissed about your bra, truthfully, you jerk a foot out harsh enough to hurt him if it should make contact, trying to keep your movement spastic enough to make it look like an accident. Eren dodges and looks at you murderously, returning to his full height to grab your chin harshly.

“Did you just try to fucking kick me?” His forehead is pressed nearly to yours, voice low. Busted.

“You tore my bra.” Your voice has none of the conviction you were trying to find in the depths of your chest, coming out breathy and weak. A sound that can only be described as a snarl rips from Eren’s chest.

“Yeah, I fucking did,” Eren smacks your cheek just hard enough to stun you, make sure you’re really listening to him, “we caught you. Understand that? We’re going to do what we want with you because you’re ours. Keep smarting off, and I’ll rip your panties off next and shove ‘em in that bratty mouth of yours. Got it?”

Speechless, you nod desperately, squirming as the heat between your legs begins to grow unbearable, that tacky, sticky arousal surely beginning to leak down your thighs at this point. Eren makes quick work of your jeans and your underwear, hissing appreciatively as your panties stick to the wetness between your thighs.

“You’re so wet, pet,” Jean reaches around to swipe his hand through your folds. That alone is enough to make your knees buckle, make a wanton moan slip out from your lips.

“I–I want– oh.” You try and fail to articulate a sentence, cut off entirely by a loud groan when Eren’s teeth sink into the supple skin of your breast. Eren grins around the mouthful of flesh he holds between his teeth, raising his eyebrows at how riled up you already are.

“Pitiful little thing,” Jean chuckles, voice husky, “look how bad she wants it.”

Jean reaches down and shoves two fingers straight into your slick cunt, ripping a strangled moan out of your throat. Your hips buck into his hand of their own accord, desperate, tinny whines and whimpers leaving your mouth in quick succession. The stretch of Jean’s fingers is so welcome after all the build-up, that you don’t think you could put it into words if you tried. On behalf of your useless mouth, your body makes a great show of trying to show them just how good their attention feels, rolling and rocking into their touch, no matter how harsh.

Eren digs his fingers into the fat of your hips, your thighs, your ass, gripping you close to him and biting into whatever flesh of your upper body that he can reach as hard as he can, surely coming close to drawing blood. They aren’t the type of bites that require suction and the lathing of a tongue to soothe and leave hickeys; no, these are the type of bites that bruise on impact, little purple half-moons of teeth marks decorating your arms, shoulders, and breasts.

Jean coos in your ear approvingly each time your hips cant towards his hand, seeking more and more friction as the knot in your stomach tightens with each curl of his fingers. You can feel him pressing into your lower back, hard and promising, and your pussy flutters around his fingers at the thought of being split open by him, by Eren, by anything more that they’re willing to give you.

“Want to fuck her,” Eren huffs, “she close?”

“She’ll cum soon,” Jean affirms, licking through the shell of your ear delicately. You revel in the way they talk about you as if you’re not here, as if you possess no consciousness worthy of interacting with. You feel stripped of your higher thought processes, reduced into some pathetic, pliant creature only in search of pleasure– and you love it.

“Please,” you attempt to beg, only to be silenced by Eren’s long fingers wrenching their way down your throat.

“Stop talking,” Eren grumbles around a mouthful of your flesh, “pets don’t talk, do they?”

That draws a heady whine from you, your hips twitching forwards into Jean’s hand eagerly, a blatant attempt to pull forth the orgasm that’s been brewing between your hip bones for the last five minutes. Jean chuckles at your struggles, works his fingers just a bit faster.

“Go on,” Jean whispers, “it’s just us out here. Be as loud as you want, pet. We’re going to need you good and wet, so go ahead, cum hard for us.”

“C’mon, what are you waiting for? Fucking cum already.” Eren echoes Jean’s sentiment from your breasts, licking at another smear of blood just under your nipple.

Your body thrashes in their grip, begging for and yet resistant to the overwhelming waves of pleasure wracking through it. Loud squeals escape from your full mouth, even from where Eren’s got your lips stretched wide around three of his bulky fingers.

“Let us see what you can do, pet,” Jean murmurs, thick and warm against your ear, “just for us, come on.”

With one more vicious curl of Jean’s fingers, your back is arching violently, a muffled scream echoing into the canopy of trees around you as your release hits you hard. You can feel the wetness smearing between your thighs, feel the effort Jean’s exerting into keeping you still and in one place as you buck against him. Eren growls in approval and sinks to his knees, biting harshly into your thigh before sucking your clit into his mouth. That only serves to make you fight harder, the overstimulation getting the better of you.

Eren’s only able to lap at the sensitive folds between your legs for a moment before your twitching thighs threaten to knock him in the head, jerking closed of their own accord. Eren chuckles and smacks the inside of your leg a few times, rising to his feet and smirking at you.

“You squirming? Too much?” Eren sneers, gripping your jaw in his hand and forcing you to keep your half-lidded eyes on him. You push against his grip as hard as you can to shake your head no, earning yourself a pleased glimmer amongst the darkened green of his eyes. “More? You want more?”

When you nod frantically, Eren grins so wide his canines wink at you in the setting sun, flits his gaze over your shoulder to meet Jean’s eye.

“Get her on the ground.”

Jean complies, forcing you to your hands and knees in the dirt. Something about being so exposed, bare and open for them in the ground like this, has your blood running hot in an entirely new way. Neither of them have taken so much as their outer layer off, pinning you between them like…like their little pet. You can feel yourself grow even wetter; it may as well be dripping down your thighs at this point. You hear one of them kneeling behind you, can feel the head of a cock swiping through the mess between your legs.

“So fucking wet,” Eren hisses from over your shoulder, grabbing at your hips and kneading the skin. A hand comes to your chin, tilts your head up.

“Open up, pet,” Jean says, biting into his bottom lip. Obediently, you drop your jaw, tongue out, and blink up at him invitingly, more than eager for the weight of him in your mouth. Jean groans at the sight, slipping the tip of his drooling cock onto your tongue. You swipe your tongue over the tip, eyes rolling back at the taste of salt and sweat and Jean. Jean wastes no time in pushing to the back of your throat, tapping your gag reflex.

Any hope you had of suppressing the cough that threatens you when Jean pushes into your throat is ripped away by Eren shoving himself into you from behind, pushing you an inch too far down Jean’s cock and making you retch.

“All stuffed full of cock, aren’t you?” Eren grunts, driving into you and setting a brutal pace off the bat. You’re powerless to do much else besides squeal and whine around Jean’s cock, punctuating your muffled moans with the occasional gag when Jean taps the back of your throat.

Jean spits several times into the palm of his hand, never losing his pace thrusting into your mouth. If you had any more presence of mind, you’d frown up at him questioningly, but any doubts about his intentions are resolved when he leans over you, spreading his spit over your asshole.

“I want to take her too,” Jean says to Eren, who leans down to spit directly on your only unoccupied hole, lubing you up, “get her ready.”

Eren only offers an affirmative grunt, circling your hole a few times before pushing his thumb in up to the hilt; you’d taken them both only last night, so you don’t require all that much prep, but Eren’s thick fingers are a shock all the same. You squeal around Jean, who shushes you and runs his fingers soothingly along the crown of your head. You lean into his gentle touch, only for him to tighten his grip around the tangled wreck of your hair and shove you down onto his cock harder.

“Told you you’re not my princess anymore,” Jean chuckles darkly above you, driving his hips forward to the same rhythm Eren pounds into you from behind, “not out here.”

Eren’s been busying himself preparing your asshole, up to what feels like three fingers, but with the girth of Eren’s hands, you can never be sure. To have every bit of you full and used is an out of body experience; it’s not something you don’t experience regularly with the both of them, but to be taken so brutally out in the open, to be fucked in such an animalistic way, nearly shuts your brain off.

Eren gives you a few final thrusts before pulling himself entirely from you, causing Jean to follow suit and leaving you empty and whining. You’re tugged to your feet before you can even begin to form a sentence to beg for them back, stumbling in the crunchy leaves under your feet. Eren scoops you into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep you firmly pressed to him.

His cock drags along the folds between your legs, and he presses his forehead to yours, short, heavy breaths leaving him in huffs.

“Ready, pet?” Eren mutters into your open, waiting mouth, “ready to take what you were made for?”

Before you can offer anything more than a half-hearted plea, Jean is pressing into you, the all-consuming stretch of him rendering you mute. Eren never stops boring his gaze into yours, something sparking and spitting and wanting in his eyes, demanding more from you. He drinks down your squeal of surprise, spreads your ass cheeks open so Jean can get at you deeper, digging into depths you rarely find yourself aware of.

“She’s still so tight,” Jean growls, sinking his teeth into your neck, smiling around the mouthful when you moan wantonly.

“Give him some more, hm?” Eren, forehead still tacky and stuck to yours, grabs for Jean’s hand, angling it under your mouth. Through your desperate little hiccups of pleasure, you understand; you spit into Jean’s hand, opening your mouth so that a thick line of drool can slick his fingers up further. Eren grins, evil and satisfied. “Good job, pet.”

Jean uses the saliva you’ve given him to wet the last few inches of himself, pushing in to the base with a loud groan. You can almost feel the tangible eye contact they exchange; they love to look at each other unraveling when they’re inside you. “Your turn.”

Eren—no, Jean?—digs his fingers into your hips, making you whimper at the thought of the bruises sure to follow his grip, slides his cock into you slowly and forcefully, like he’s proving a point. The stretch of him– no, of both of them inside you, isn’t anything new, but in this setting, after all the build-up? You’re wailing, openly, your cries echoing off the trees as you thrash in their firm hold, overstimulated and overwhelmed and overpleasured all at once.

“Sh, sh,” Jean shushes you sternly, pinning your head back against his shoulder with a firm fist to the nape of your neck, “take it, don’t fight it.”

“Feel so fucking good, pet,” Eren says gruffly, giving a tentative half-thrust and making all of you moan, “like you’re fucking made for taking cock.”

“She is,” Jean coos, beginning to rock into you in the same easy rhythm as Eren, “just look at her. Not one thought behind those pretty eyes.”

He’s right; your eyes have glazed over entirely, mouth hanging ajar as they take and take and take from you. You can feel an orgasm quickly taking shape in the pit of your stomach, wrapping around itself and squeezing, threatening to pull you under. You’re so blissed out you can’t even be sure of what you’re feeling. Full, exposed, primal, half-conscious; all of those words surely would make the list if you could pull any of them to the front of your mind at the moment.

Your thighs are quivering around Eren’s waist, tightening viciously around his hips as they drive into you, suspending you between two walls of hard muscle. You know your cunt follows suit when Eren groans loudly, jaw dropping slightly.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Slutty little thing,” Eren grunts against you, eyes flicking back and forth between you and Jean, “begging to get your cunt filled like a bitch in heat.”

“That is what you want, isn’t it?” Jean practically whispers into your ear, words wrapping around the knot in your stomach and holding it together, “want to get bred, don’t you, pet?”

Eren’s eyes go wide for just a moment, his gaze fixated on Jean. You can feel him pause briefly, twitch inside of you, and then before even a full second has passed, Eren’s determined scowl has twisted his face again, and he’s hammering into you like his life depends on it.

“Is that what you want?” Eren demands of you, eyeing you.

“Tell him,” Jean says to you, like the devil on your shoulder, “tell him how badly you want it. Go on.”

“I–I–” The tears running down your face collect in your mouth, making you hiccup and spit and choke on your words. Eren grabs your face fiercely, forcing you to look at him.

“Say it,” Eren snarls, “tell me you want this slutty pussy stuffed full of cum, our cum.”

“I want your cum,” you whimper pathetically, words stuttering and tripping as they spill from your swollen lips, “want to be full of it, want to get bred.”

“Fuck,” Eren nearly throws his head back, somehow moving his hips faster. Your legs dangle uselessly beside him; every muscle in your body contracts and relaxes wildly as your orgasm sinks its claws into you, threatens to pull you under. The only things tethering you to your body at this point are Eren’s eyes on you, bright and feral, and Jean’s hands around your hips, keeping you in place for them to pound into. You can feel the tidal wave coming up in your throat, your moans and whines growing more and more frantic, your head feeling lighter with each passing moment.

“Such a good girl– good little pet for us,” Jean slurs, hips beginning to falter in their rhythm, “show us how bad you want our cum, let us feel you–fuck–”

“So fucking good,” Eren laughs almost hysterically as you finally snap and cum around them, slapping your face lightly and egging you on, “there she goes.”

Every nerve ending in your body feels like it’s on fire, little shocks of electricity flying down your limbs and making you jerk and flail and contract. You can feel your fingers digging into the skin of Eren’s biceps until they meet something wet and warm, and you know you’ve drawn blood, but you’re spiraling through rapturous pleasure so intensely that you couldn’t release your grip if you tried.

The way you tighten viciously around them has Jean falling over the edge right after you, his hips stuttering and coming to a still pressed against you. He tugs your face to the side, pulling you in for a sloppy, honestly disgusting, kiss, panting heavily into your mouth and mouthing around praises that he’s too spent to fully pronounce. You can feel Eren’s eyes on you both, feel the way his thrusts are starting to grow more frantic. Jean turns your face to meet Eren’s gaze, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Look at her, Eren,” Jean shakes your face a little for emphasis, “needs cum in both her holes, not just one.”

As if to emphasize his statement, Jean pulls out of you, a gush of his cum joining the mess between your legs. Eren throws his head back and groans, nods urgently.

“Said we’d stuff her full, right? Breed her? That’s what she wants, isn’t it, pet?” Jean sneers, landing a smack to your cheek.

“Uh-huh,” you babble mindlessly, body trembling with the force of the aftershocks of your orgasm, “p-please Eren, breed me, I need it–”

“Gonna cum in you,” Eren pants, grabbing your hair so hard you wince, “can you take it? Take all of it ‘til you’re bred and full of me?”

“Yes,” you whimper, nodding against him, “yes, please, I–”

“Give it to her,” Jean’s fisted his hand at the nape of Eren’s neck now, pulling all of you so close that you’re drinking down each other’s breaths, “she’s worked so hard for it, give her what she needs.”

That’s all it takes; Jean’s encouragement has Eren spilling inside you with a lengthy, choked groan. With what little energy you have left, you pepper soft kisses along his neck, knowing how his muscles must be burning with how they’re twitching under his skin. Eren’s fingers are digging into you so hard it hurts, already aching, but you let him cling to you, ride out his orgasm as Jean threads his fingers through the hairs at the base of Eren’s neck soothingly.

You all stay this way for a moment, Jean supporting the majority of your body weight as Eren begins to sag into you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. The breeze swirls by, leaving cold kisses on every inch of your bare skin, reminding you that you’re out in the open, making you miss your sweater.

“Guys?” You speak feebly into the crisp air, blinking sleepily.

“Holy shit,” Eren laughs breathlessly into the crook of your shoulder, pulling you close to him in a sticky hug, “that was–”

“Crazy,” Jean agrees with a disbelieving chuckle, helping you down onto your shaky legs.

“I am…very naked.” You point out weakly, swaying on your sore thighs. Jean’s quick to slide an arm around your shoulders and tug you to him, while Eren wrangles his hoodie over his head to offer you.

“There’s not another house for five miles in either direction,” Jean assures you, lifting your arms so that Eren can pull his hoodie over you, “wouldn’t ever let anybody see you like this, you know that.”

“Better?” Eren, still a little winded, tugs the hoodie down around your thighs, looking you over. He swipes a thumb across the cut on your cheek, an impish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We really roughed you up, didn’t we? I’m sorry, angel.”

“I liked it.” Your eyes are already falling shut; you barely have the energy for a sleepy smile when Eren presses his lips to your hairline. Jean scoops you up into his arms; all the cardio that he does at the gym is making itself known.

“Was it good, princess? Have fun?” Jean murmurs against your forehead.

“So much fun.” You open one eye to see Jean and Eren glance at each other, see the spark of love between them. It comforts you; even amongst the near-constant shivers wracking through your body, the warmth of their presence and the steady rocking of Jean’s steps lull your eyes shut.

“Thank god she ended up running just about to the backyard,” Eren huffs from somewhere to your right, still sounding very much like he hasn’t caught his breath, “I’m fuckin’ beat.”

“It’s because you don’t do enough cardio, bro.” You can hear Jean’s insistent eyebrow raise and visualize Eren’s answering eye roll, chuckling to yourself in Jean’s arms.

“Cardio’s for bitches, I’m bulking right now–”

“Did you listen to anything the team trainer said in college? Honestly–”

“That was three years ago–”

Somewhere amongst their arguing you doze off, letting yourself go limp in Jean’s arms. When you wake again, Jean’s walking you up a flight of stairs, angling you this way and the other to avoid hitting your head on the railing. Jean flits his eyes down towards you and acknowledges your consciousness with a soft smile, carrying you into a bedroom and sitting you on the bed. Wordlessly, Jean and Eren go about their usual routine of cleaning up after a particularly rough session: Jean runs a bath while Eren fetches some antiseptic for the scratches on your face and arms, Eren nearly gets distracted when you start running your fingernails through his hair but Jean gets you both back on track, somehow fitting all three of you in the largest bathtub you’ve ever seen.

Before you know it, you’ve been scrubbed clean, all the grime gone from your skin and the twigs pulled from your hair, and sandwiched between Eren and Jean under a heavy duvet.

“All better, right?” Eren murmurs against your forehead, pressing a kiss to it.

“All better,” you hum, nuzzling into his chest, “but I don’t want to waste the weekend. We’re only here until Sunday– do we really need to nap?”

“I threw dinner into the smoker while Eren was drying you off,” Jean says, words floating over your shoulder from where he’s curled up behind you, “we have at least two hours ‘til it’s cooked through properly.”

“And you need a nap,” Eren grins mischievously, “you had a big afternoon.”

“I’m not the only one,” you giggle up at him, “I heard you wheezing on the walk back.”

Eren scowls, only to have the furrow in his brow smoothed over by Jean’s thumb. You watch in awe as he instantly melts into Jean’s palm, such a volatile man so easily soothed by a gentle touch. As Eren’s mood begins to settle, you feel the atmosphere in the room change; the blankets feel just a bit heavier, the rise and fall of Jean’s chest against your back quells your breathing into the same rhythm, and the circles Eren’s thumb is rubbing into your hip have your eyes beginning to flutter.

“Naps for all three of us,” Jean says, leaving no room for argument, "I set an alarm. I won’t let you sleep through the weekend, I promise."

Something about the warmth and familiarity tucked under the covers with the three of you has your mind ambling on towards sleep, even after your weak attempts to protest. As you drift off, you can hear the quiet, wet noises of Jean and Eren exchanging a goodnight kiss above your head, feel the reassuring squeeze of their arms around your waist, the brush of lips against the nape of your neck, the tip of your nose. There’s a little murmured “I love you” from each of them, and though your mouth wants to form the words to respond, all you’re able to manage is a soft, contented smile as you drift off.

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Apothecary Chapter Eight

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

Samhain is here, and for the first time in a while, she has people to share it with.

word count: 5.2K

warnings | 18+ smut, angst, discussions of grief, spooky-ooky action

a/n | it's here! hands down this has been my favorite chapter to write so far. i would love to hear what you think as always, my inbox is open <3

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

Summer has been laid to rest under the whispered chill of fall. The mountains are burned up all orange and yellow, leaves fit to fall in the soon-to-come snap of frost. But for now, as October comes to an end, the days are still tinged with warmth while the nights shiver in the suggestion of the oncoming winter, and Halloween is just around the corner.

Joel had thought it silly, if not downright stupid, when he and Ellie first came to Jackson, all the holidays upheld and celebrated in town. But this year, as the annual fall dance comes closer, he’s hard pressed to be bothered by it with his woman flitting around him, obvious in her excited anticipation.

“Oh, Joel, before you go I have something to give you.”

“This– this is a rusty nail.” She just smiles, curling her fingers under his palm to close his hand over the, quite literally, rusty nail she just gave him.

“Just, humor me, alright? It’s a tradition, for protection. I gave one to Ellie too. Just keep it in your pocket for the next few days.” By now, he’s realized that sometimes it’s easier to just go along with what she tells him, no questions asked, so he nods, pocketing the nail with a smile that he hopes looks grateful. He can also tell that she’s nervous, and he’d bet that it’s because he’s started picking up patrol shifts again, leaving early this morning to meet Tommy at the gate. So if him having an old nail in his pocket is going to make her feel even a little better, he’s happy to oblige her request.

“Thank you, darlin. I’ll see you tonight, ok?” One kiss, a second, and a third, before he finally tears himself away from her, slipping out the front door and into the cool morning air.

“Morning, trouble.”

Mrrp

Stevie is quick to fall into stride alongside him, something he’s still getting used to on the mornings he has patrol, her watchful eyes seeing him out of the gate.

“I see you’ve still got a second shadow following you.” Tommy grins at him as he approaches, eyes glancing down to Stevie who lets out another meow, sitting down rather primly and looking between the two brothers.

“She ain’t–”

“Coming, yeah, you say that everytime, Joel. I’m pretty sure I could figure out that a cat ain’t coming on patrol by myself though.”

Mrrrrp

Tommy gives the cat in question a disbelieving look, eyebrows raised as he looks back up at Joel who can’t help the smug grin tugging at his lips. Tommy lets out a huff, shaking his head.

“Y’all are so fucking weird. Let’s go before the cat starts talking, goddamn.”

…

For the first time in a while, things feel simple, maybe even good. She’s hesitant to let her mind settle on good for fear of jinxing it all, but at the very least, things are really, really not bad. And it certainly doesn’t hurt that Samhain is only a few days away.

It’s the busiest time of year for her, in more ways than one. With the impending chill, more and more people around town are coming down with head colds and whatever else they might pick up in close quarters, a neverending rotation of sniffles and coughs that she’s been tending to while also trying to get ready for the sabbat. While she’s always kept the traditions alive for herself, this year is different, this year she gets to share it with people for the first time in ages, and she might be going just a bit overboard because of it.

Truly, she’s been pulling out all the stops this week. Rosemary and wild rose wreaths for protection through the transition from light to dark, soul cakes for breakfast studded with dried fruit just like her mom would make, and a fresh batch of candles ready to light her altar through the three nights of the pagan new year.

While Joel seems content to let her whirl around him in preparation, Ellie has enthusiastically taken part, listening intently to her explanations of all the rituals and traditions and helping out in the kitchen and in the shop when she can. She can’t help but be reminded of herself as a kid, her mom sharing with her all these things she now gets to share with Ellie.

“So, no bonfire?”

“Sorry, kid, not in this world. It’s just not safe anymore. But we can get the fireplace going and that’ll work just as well.” Though there’s still a slight disappointed slump to her shoulders, Ellie nods, her fingers continuing deft work on another wreath, perched on a stool at the butcher block in the back of the shop.

“You’re getting better at that than me, Ellie. Could I take that one to Maura? I was gonna check in on her this afternoon and I’d like to bring her something.”

“Yeah, for sure. Is she, like, doing ok?” Her own hands still where she had been pruning back some errant leaves, turning to fully look at Ellie with a sigh.

“I think so, yeah. I know Matthew hasn’t given her any more trouble, probably too embarrassed to try. And I think she’s settling in well to her new place.”

“What about Mason?” She swallows the thick heat in her throat at Ellie’s question, schooling her face in something she hopes looks like indifference.

“What about him?”

“I don’t know. For a guy who seems to enjoy causing a lot of fucking problems it’s kinda weird how quiet he is all of a sudden.” She knows the truth that Ellie’s words hold all too well, and had been thinking about this herself for a while now. She hadn’t seen or heard from Mason since what happened at the town hall, and to her knowledge, no one else had either, keeping to himself and his shifts. And while she’d like to just forget about him, his bitter words and blatant violence toward her are hard to shake from her mind.

“Let’s just take a win where we can get one, huh, kid? I don’t– don’t even wanna think about that man so long as I don’t have to.” Ellie seems to accept her reply with a slightly distracted hum, holding up the wreath she just finished with a satisfied smirk.

“Fuck yeah. Am I good, or am I good? I mean, c’mon.” It might be silly, but she feels pride unfurling in her chest watching Ellie. No one else has ever been so interested in what she does, and it feels like a relief she didn’t know she was craving to get to share this all with her.

“Pretty damn good, kid. Thanks for helping me out.”

…

He gets back to town spooked, just a little. It isn’t like anything absolutely dire had happened, though it could have turned rotten real quick. He and Tommy had split off early in the day to circle the dam and meet back up somewhere in the middle. It had been a quiet morning, the woods wrapped in a faint mist, leaves falling like rain, when he heard a low, warbling groan from deeper in the trees. It was obvious to him that it wasn’t an infected, the sound had been so different from anything he’d heard before, and he couldn’t help but dismount and inch into the underbrush, trying to catch sight of what had made a noise like that.

A grizzly, that’s what had made the sound, brown fur matted over a hulking body that rose all of eight feet in the air when it stood up on its haunches and snarled at Joel. He was stunned still where he stood by the sight, gun uselessly cocked against an animal that could have killed him in one powerful swipe. And for a moment, it had seemed like that’s exactly what was about to happen, the bear letting out a rumbling roar, jowls warbling with the sound. But then, and it’s going to sound strange, the animal had paused, and had tilted its head at Joel like it was considering him, before slumping back down onto all fours, letting out a snuff that sounded like a conclusion, and trundling right past him further into the thickening forest.

The whole ride back to town, he can’t help but thumb the corroded nail sitting in his jacket pocket, a jilted energy running circuits in his veins. But the hitch in his chest is smoothed out when he does get home, opening the front door to warmth and the smell of food, something savory mingling with the scent of apples cooking. And the sight of her, comfortably moving around the kitchen, something in the oven and a large pot bubbling on the stove, has his heart kicking up in an entirely different way.

“I can feel you staring, Miller.” She glances at him over her shoulder, a crooked smile as she gives the pot a few stirs before turning and padding over to him where he’s leaning against the doorframe, her palm sliding from his chest to curl behind his neck as she leans in for a kiss. He reckons that this won’t ever get old for him, the apparent ease they move with together, how he can reach out and she’ll reach right back. She gives him a quirked look when she pulls away, brows furrowed.

“You alright?” She can clock him like no other. Sometimes it seems like she knows what he’s feeling before he even does, and if she hadn’t insisted that she most definitely can’t read minds, he would have guessed that she could.

“Mmhmm, just tired. Glad to be home.” Though her brows stay just slightly pinched, she seems to accept his excuse, a quick rub of her palm over her chest before she pulls away to check on whatever she has cooking.

“Is Ellie around?”

“At movie night with Dina. They’re playing Hocus Pocus from what I heard.”

“Got enough of that at home, don’t we?” She scoffs, elbowing him lightly where he’s sidled up behind her.

“Rude, and to think I was making you dinner.” She cranes her neck to look at him over her shoulder, hands finding his on her waist and tangling their fingers together as she scrunches her nose at him. He opens his mouth to say something smart back to her, but his eyes catch on the spoon stirring itself in the pot, drawing her attention back to the stove as well.

“Oops, got a little distracted.” Yeah, he still hasn’t gotten used to her getting distracted.

Dinner is warm and rich and near coma-inducing, both of them sitting back with contented sighs at the dining table, the sun long set, windows going purple and hazy in the glow of the kitchen lights.

“Was Ellie supposed to be home for dinner?” Her brow furrows at his question, head tilted in confusion.

“No, I told you she’s at movie night. Why do you ask?”

“You set an extra place, I just assumed–”

“Oh, no, that’s not– it’s another tradition. You set a place for the people you love who have passed on. Most folks just do it for the three days starting on Halloween. But we always started leaving a plate out a day early, don’t ask me why, it was just the way my mom did it.” It’s clear to him that she’s being careful about what she says, and how she says it. She’s been careful about explaining the holiday, and he can understand why. She had told him that this time of year is marked most by communion with and remembrance of the dead, a subject they’ve been skirting around ever since that night when she tried to talk to him about Sarah, and he bolted like a spooked horse.

“Is that who you set the place for now? Your mom?” Her smile tempers, eyes rounding with a familiar sadness as she nods.

“Yeah, other family too. And I have to admit, I know it’s not my place, but I’ve been thinking about– about Sarah as well.” It’s a leap for her to make, he knows it, and he’s willing to make it with her, reaching his hand across the table to rest over the top of hers, puzzle pieces fitting together in a shared silence.

“Thank you for thinking of her, darlin.” Another nod and a small smile.

“Could I– can I share something with you? And maybe you could help me with it?”

…

“So that’s what all this is for?”

“What’d you think it was for?”

“Honestly, I stopped asking questions about things like this a while ago. Just assumed whatever this was, you had some sort of plan for it.” She has to let out a huff of a laugh at his clearly truthful answer, shaking her head before focusing back on the items spread over the desktop of her bureau.

“Well, I do have a plan, and it’s called an altar. It’s a space made to honor the departed, and to keep them a little closer to us.” She’s already laid out candles, dried leaves, and small wreaths of herbs on the desk, now pulling open one of the bureau’s drawers to get out a worn, weathered photo, tenderly unfolding it. Holding it out so Joel can see, a small sound of recognition rumbles in his chest.

“Is that you?” His finger just hovers over the face of the girl in the photo.

“Mmhmm, and that’s my mom, and my grandmother. I must have been twelve, maybe thirteen, when this was taken.” When she glances at him, something like wonder is laced in his expression, lips parted in a slight smile as he continues to study the picture. Clearing her throat, and her mind, she tucks the photo in amongst the altar before looking at him again.

“It’s nice to include pieces of them, if you have any. I was wondering, um– I mean I don’t know if you’d even want to– but if you have anything of Sarah’s, I was wondering if you’d like to add a piece of her to it?” The words feel thick and clunky coming out, regret an almost instant aftertaste at the way his face falls. But then he surprises her, clearing his throat and nodding before silently unfastening his watch and placing it on the altar, a tap of his fingers to the face of it before he takes a step back.

“And it’s just for the next three days, right?” Worry is pinching his brow, eyes swimming, and she doesn’t resist the urge to reach for him, a hand on his cheek and one right over his heart.

“That’s right. It just lets them know that we’re thinking about them a little more than usual, that’s all. And then we go back to carrying them with us however we can.” He gives her a short nod, tears like silver in his eyes as he rests his hand over hers on his chest, his other palm coming to cup her cheek.

“She would’ve liked you, y’know.” It’s so unexpected, her breath catches in her throat at his words.

“You think so?”

“I think you two would’ve got on like a house on fire. Probably would’ve ganged up on me too, though you and Ellie already do that I suppose.” The warbly sound of her own laugh makes her realize that she’s started crying too, the soft sweep of his thumb brushing away a few stray tears.

“Well, I’m sorry to tell you, but my mom would’ve hated you.” The spluttering laugh he lets out sends her into a huffed spiral of her own, quiet grins between the two of them.

“Would’ve hated me, huh?”

“Mmhmm, nothing personal though. She just believed that women should never get tied down to a man for long.” He hums at that, both of them holding back another laugh through their tears.

“And what do you believe, darlin?”

“I believe that you are the one exception to that rule, Joel Miller.”

…

Seeing as the last town dance he went to ended with him busting his knuckles open on a man’s face, Joel isn’t exactly raring to go to this one. But hers and Ellie’s shared excitement is more than making up for his own disinterest.

“Look, old man, Stevie and I match.” Ellie jumps off the last two steps of the porch, Stevie letting out a distressed mewl from her place in her arms at the sudden movement.

“Yeah, the resemblance is uncanny.” Ellie’s got on black jeans, a black sweater, and a black headband with two triangular scraps of fabric attached to look like cat ears, cradling Stevie in her arms as the finishing touch to her makeshift costume.

“What’re you supposed to be? A lumberjack with anger issues?” He huffs at her rather sharp question, glancing down at his flannel, the same flannel he wears at least twice a week these days.

“Sure, let’s go with that, kid.”

“You two ready?” Her voice pulls his attention away from Ellie’s smug grin, and when he catches sight of her, his mind goes so hazy he can’t be bothered to pick his jaw up off the ground.

“That hat is fucking wicked.” He doesn’t even have half a mind to scold Ellie for her language, too busy taking in the sight of his woman. She’s wearing the same mismatched sneakers she’s always got on, her bare shins peeking out beneath the hem of her black dress. A very nicely-fitting black dress at that, long-sleeved, with a deep neckline he can’t seem to take his eyes away from. It’s too good, the hat sitting atop her head, the pointed top and the wide brim an almost cartoonish calling-card, and the grin on her face as she stands before him tells him that she knows it too.

“Well?” She holds out her arms, a little flare in her wrists as she looks at him, and all he can do is let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Where the hell did you get a hat like that?” She pinches the brim between her fingers, giving him a wink.

“Found it in the attic of my old house when I first moved in. Been saving it for a special occasion. You like?” He pulls her in for a kiss, all crooked from their mirrored grins.

“Ugh, c’mon, Stevie. Let’s go before they inflict any more damage to our eyeballs.” She pulls away with a laugh at Ellie’s very vocal dismay, taking Joel’s hand in hers with a light squeeze.

“Sorry, kid. No more eyeball damage, I promise. Let’s get a move on.”

Once again, the dining hall has been fitted out for the dance, tables pushed aside to clear the floor and a ragtag band putting out half-decent music. But this time is different too. This time, he’s got an easy arm wrapped around his woman’s waist, holding onto her in a crowd that no longer stares and whispers, but welcomes with easy smiles and talk. Everyone is in some sort of attempted costume, and he catches sight of Tommy making his way toward them through the crowd, an old cowboy hat on his head and a bandana tied around his neck.

“What’re you supposed to be, brother? A slightly less pissed off version of yourself?” While he grunts at his brother’s teasing, she laughs easily, happy to pick up the social slack where Joel refuses to engage.

“Happy Halloween, Tommy. I saw Maria and your boy out front. I can’t believe how big he’s gotten, gonna be quite the little heartbreaker in a few years.” The clear pride in Tommy’s smile sets warmth spreading in Joel’s chest. It’s been a surprising bright spot for him, watching his brother step into fatherhood. Not that he’d ever tell Tommy, but it’s a good look on him.

“He’s something else, ain’t he? Not gonna be able to keep up with him at the rate he’s growing. But anyways, just wanted to come say howdy. Y’all enjoy yourselves, alright?” With a brisk clap to Joel’s shoulder, Tommy is moving back through the crowd, lobbing easy greetings to folks left and right.

“Alright, my angry lumberjack, are you gonna ask me to dance or what?”

“You heard that, huh? Don’t even know how the kid knows what a lumberjack is.” Her smile is easy, humor crinkling her eyes as she looks at him.

“Mmhmm, but for the record, you make a very cute, angry lumberjack.” What he does next surprises even him, taking her hand and leading her into the throng of swaying couples on the dance floor with a confidence he hasn’t felt in decades. The band is playing a slower song, light threadings of a guitar and the old piano, a sweet suggestion to pull her close, one arm hooked around her waist, his other tucked between their chests where their hands are tangled together. Judging by the widening of her eyes, lips parted in a crooked smile, she hadn’t been expecting that at all.

“You’ve been holding out on me if you’ve been able to dance this nicely this whole time, Miller.” He can feel himself going a bit sheepish under her praise, eyes turned down as he leads them in a simple string of steps.

“Haven’t danced in a long time, darlin.” They fall into an easy silence, the music and din of the hall lulling them into the movement. Though everything comes crashing to a jilted stop, music fizzling out under the sudden scuffle in the crowd. It’s instinct, the way his arm tightens around her, keeping her close as he cranes his neck to see where the raised voices are coming from, his stomach dropping when he lays eyes on who it is.

He can’t hear what’s being said, but judging by the steely look on Tommy’s face and the hazy sneer on Mason’s, it’s nothing friendly. And through the crowd, Mason’s bloodshot eyes land on him first, before sliding over to her, a grin smearing across his face that Joel would like nothing more than to smack clean off him. But Tommy is quick to take Mason out of the hall with a harsh grip on his shoulder, gone as soon as he appeared, though the damage has already been done judging by the slack frown on her face.

“Joel, can we go, please?” His chest tightens at the way her voice has flattened, the quiet question slipped from her downturned mouth, eyes stuck where Mason had been standing.

“Yeah, darlin, we’ll go home. Lemme find Ellie and let her know, alright?”

He keeps her hand in his the whole walk home, not letting go until they’re in their bedroom and she’s sitting down on the edge of the bed, a deep furrow between her brows.

“God, I feel so stupid for letting that affect me like I did. I’m sorry, Joel. We were having a good time and I– I ruined it.” He sits down as close to her as he can, tucking her under his arm and dropping a kiss to the top of her head, her hat discarded on the floor.

“Didn’t ruin a thing, darlin. I’m just sorry that pathetic bastard came around at all.” He can tell that she’s working through it in her mind, somewhere between the past and the present, lips slightly pursed and eyes focused on her hands in her lap, but she doesn’t get stuck on it, a long exhale bringing her back to him, tilting her head to look at him with a suggestion of a smile. She doesn’t say anything, slipping out of his hold like liquid and padding quietly over to her bureau where the altar is set up. It’s grace embodied, the way she leans over one of the unlit candles, pursing her lips and exhaling like you would to extinguish a flame, though instead the wick smokes and crackles into a bright blaze.

“Well now you’re just showing off.” A shrug and a laugh from her as she lights the other candles with the one she just lit, the altar being cast in a warm and pulsing glow.

…

Maybe she had been showing off, just a little, drinking in the way his eyes widen and don’t pull away from her for even a second as she turns back to him and extends her hand.

“Would you mind finishing that dance with me?” The light in the bedroom is dim, just a lamp and the candles casting a haze of warmth across the room, but she can still see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he stands up and slides his hand into hers.

There’s no music, but they don’t need it, finding an easy sway in their close tangle. She rests her cheek at his shoulder, nose brushing along the juncture of his neck, breathing him in, feeling his hands splayed across her back, the insistent pump of his heart, stronger than anything she’s ever heard before.

“Think you mentioned something a while ago about dancing naked.” She can hear the smug crook of his smile in his words, making her laugh as she pulls back to look at him.

“Hmm, yeah, I just said that to seduce you.” He chuckles at the smarmy waggle of her eyebrows, pulling her tighter against him.

“Didn’t have to do that, darlin. Reckon I was gone for you from day one.” The kiss they slip into is more like a shared sigh, swallowing each other’s relief, muscles slackening under wandering hands. They move with patience, like time has stopped with the slow trails of fingers, the languid press of lips. A shiver runs through her when he tugs the zipper of her dress down, sliding the fabric down her arms, letting it pool around her still socked feet. She wants skin against skin, stepping closer to him as she slips her fingers through the buttons of his shirt, tugging it off his shoulders as soon as she can, leaving his torso warm and bare for her to press against, mouths open and receiving whatever the other is willing to give.

And all of a sudden that tender patience snaps into a snarling desperation, Joel’s hands a searing grip on her hips, keeping her close as he ducks his head down to mouth at the tops of her breasts, only giving her enough space to slip out of her bra before he’s dipping back down and taking one of her nipples into the heat of his mouth, teeth a dizzying graze. They’ve had slow and sweet, and this isn’t that, her back pressing up against one of the bedroom walls as he cages her in, warm and trembling breaths fanning over her skin as she tugs open his belt and rucks his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his flushed cock, resting heavy and heated against her thigh.

When they first came together, it had been all questions, all Can I? Like this? Is that good? Are you? But they no longer need words now, communicating in the hungry sweep of palms and the flicker of darkened eyes. He hitches her knee against his hip, opening her up to him, his cock an aching drag through her cunt before he presses into her, pleasure tinged with the throbbing stretch of him.

Her back slides up the wall with each thrust of his hips, his hand cradling the back of her head to keep her from thumping her skull. It’s all harsh breaths and broken grunts, her eyes scrunching shut only for Joel to coax her gaze back with a gentle let me see you, darlin– look at me, baby, eyes on me, that’s it. He presses his forehead to hers, holding her steady through every hard press of his hips, his cock grazing so deep it’s all she can do to let out a quiet whimper of his name.

“I know, darlin– fuck, I know– always so good, huh? Lemme have it, honey, just like this.” He knows her almost too well by now, when to pull back, to slow down, to draw it out, and when to give her more, to press her over the edge, to twist up her pleasure only to unravel it. His hips still against hers when she comes, a deep grind inside of her that draws out her high, spasming around him as she digs her nails into his shoulders. Slackening in his arms, her mind cuts through the haze, confusion settling in when she realizes he still hasn’t moved, his forehead pressed to her sternum.

“Are you– did you–”

“Fuck, darlin, I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking and I– Jesus christ.” He pulls out with a shuddering breath, and that’s when she notices it, the warm trickle of him making her knees go weak. Joel, meanwhile, seems to be in perfect remorse, muttering a string of apologies, his hands hovering at her waist like he’s afraid to touch her. Finally, she cuts off his rambling, her palm cupping his jaw to get him to focus on her.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. You seriously think I don’t know how to take care of something like this? Honestly, I’m a little offended.” His face goes completely slack at her words, a disbelieving laugh coming out on a long exhale.

“I– you– goddamn. God fucking damn, think I almost had a heart attack.” His words come out on another laugh, hands framing her face as he lands a hard kiss to her forehead, making her chuckle at his reaction.

“No heart attacks on my watch, Miller. I love you too much to let that happen.” This kiss lands a bit lower, a smacking press of his lips to hers before he pulls away with a sheepish smile.

“Love you, darlin. Let’s, uh, let’s get you cleaned up.”

…

It’s much later in the night when she untangles herself from his embrace, successfully slipping out of bed without waking him. Grabbing the blanket Joel had kicked off in his sleep and wrapping herself up in it, she quietly pads downstairs and out onto the back porch.

“Hey, little miss, did you and Ellie have fun?” Stevie is happy to jump into her lap where she has sat down on the porch steps, a content purr thrumming as she nuzzles against her palm. A moment, that’s all she wanted, to think about the people she’s lost in the cool closeness of the night. But she and Stevie aren’t alone, not anymore. Something like family, something a little magic.

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

taglist: @boofy1998 @misspascaliverse @jasminedragoon @beskarandblasters @daddy-din @subconsciouscollapse @avidreader73 @pedgeitopascal @littlelou22 @wannab-urs @hannahlupinblack @whoiscaroline @leeeesahhh @str84pedro @mumma-moonchild @disregardedplant @mxtokko @igloo71 @secretdazeobservation @eddie-munson-dungeon-master @cressida-clearwood @mydailyhyperfixations @mingeniee @the-ginger-hedge-witch @delicious-collection @gab-thelamb-onthemoon @thereaperisabitch @lunxramour @jupiter-sky @parrotpeggy @abbiesxox @nerdreader @ssa-raye @vermillionwinter @jksprincess10 @jordycat-2018 @lavenderkee @hungryforbatboys @casa-boiardi

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #apothecary #joel miller au #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic

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fox-bright · 3 months

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Rage Cheesecake with Oreo Crust, Whipped Chocolate Ganache Frosting, and Home-Grown Tart Cherry Topping

I took recipe-bits from all over and changed them into something that sounded more like what I wanted, so here's what I did today instead of committing a felony!

RECIPE BEHIND CUT

Oreo crust part:

* 25 Oreos

* 5 tablespoons of melted butter

* Pan--pie pan or springform, depending on how deep a cheesecake you want. This makes a nice, not-too-deep cheesecake in a nine-inch springform; it would be Too Much Filling in a pie pan, which would mean you have extra, and that's always fun too. An eight-inch springform is probably perfect.

1. Preheat oven to 350.

2. You may eat TWO OREOS. Crush the remainder. I have the best time with this when I use a food processor, but if you are *particularly* spirited today, this is a good place to take out some aggression. Just pulverize the things, filling and all, until they are all reduced to the consistency of sand.

3. Add melted butter and mix until it's like *wet* sand.

4. Put buttery chocolate sand into your chosen cooking dish. I use a little jar and push push push pat pat pat until it's all nice and level from the center of the dish to the edge and has no holes.

5. Bake for eight to twelve minutes. You want it to still look a little moist. Do not overcook!

6. Remove from oven and let cool. Don't move the pan around too much before it's cool or you risk fracturing the crust.

Cheesecake part:

* Two packages of cream cheese, room temperature unless you like cream cheese chunks in your cheesecake. No judgment, some people are into that.

* 2/3C white sugar

* 3 eggs

* 3 cups of sour cream (this is a very moist cheesecake!)

* Vanilla to taste

1. Preheat oven to 325F, that's 25 degrees LOWER than for the crust.

2. Cream sugar and cream cheese until smooth.

3. Add eggs, one at a time, mix until just blended.

4. Add all sour cream and vanilla, mix until just homogenous. Don't overmix or you get weird dry pillowy stuff instead of nice dense cheesecake.

5. Cook in prepared crust for approximately 50 minutes, until it's set at the edges but a little jiggly yet in the middle.

Note: Properly you'd do this in a bain marie, but I don't have one, so I wrap the bottom of my springform pan in aluminum foil and set the whole kit and kaboodle into a sturdy cookie sheet, put all that into the preheated oven, and pour water into the cookie sheet once it's safely on the oven rack. If the cheesecake starts to overcook on the top before the center is set, cover it with aluminum foil.

6. Remove from oven; let rest in bain marie/rigged pan for ten minutes before removing springform pan to clean towel. Let rest *there* until it's cool enough to put in the fridge. Cover and chill for two to four hours.

Cherry topping part:

* Sour cherries that have been frozen since last year, or a bag of cherries, or fresh cherries, whichever, approximately 4.5 cups which is too many for just this cheesecake but it's nice to have around anyway

* Granulated sugar to taste

* Corn starch

Or just pick up a can or two of cherry pie filling, in which case you can skip this whole step.

1. Defrost cherries. If you don't do this in a pot, there's a good chance that they will leak precious juice all over your clean counter. Don't be me; thaw that stuff in the pot you'll heat it in.

2. Once they're not a singular ice block but instead a bunch of big ice chunks, turn the temperature on low, maybe around a 2.

3. Once the cherries are separate from each other, add sugar to taste. This changes a lot depending on your cherries' tartness; I eventually used nearly two cups of sugar for around 4.5 cups of cherries. Usually I'd use a good bit less, but they're very tart this time.

4. Cook and cook and cook until the liquid is reduced by about a third.

5. Add corn starch. For those measurements I added about a tablespoon and a half. Remember to make it a slurry before pouring it into the pot; you can either do this with a little water, or you can spoon out some of the cherry syrup (don't burn yourself!), mix that into a little bowl along with the corn starch, and then pour it all into the pot. Bring back to a good bubble for four or five minutes, then remove from heat and allow to come to room temperature.

Whipped chocolate ganache part:

* 1 part heavy cream to 1 part chocolate (I just use Toll House. Everyone says not to do that. It's been fine).

1. Put the chocolate in a heatproof bowl.

2. Warm the cream on the stove until it's juuuust about to start bubbling. Stir frequently so it doesn't get a skin.

3. Remove from heat, pour into heatproof bowl over the chocolate.

4. WALK AWAY. I'm serious. Don't touch it. Don't poke at it. Do not, do NOT, attempt to stir it. Walk away.

5. After five minutes, come back and stir, stir, until it's all one thing. It should be like a very good, very thick chocolate syrup. You *can* just eat this, with a spoon. You can pour it over a cake, or dip strawberries in it. Chilled right as it is, it is a dessert on its own.

6. Let it cool to room temperature.

7. Come back and use your hand mixer or stand mixer to whip it up. This should get to a pipeable consistency; if it doesn't, you may need to incorporate powdered sugar. If you add butter and powdered sugar, you'll get a very stable buttercream.

Finishing part:

1. Remove springform edge from nice cold cheesecake.

2. Pipe or dollop whipped ganache in ring atop the cheesecake.

3. Fill the ring with cooled cherry filling.

4. Garnish further if you'd like. I used decorative Sixlets and some more crushed Oreo.

5. Finished!

#baking #fox bakes #dessert #cheesecake #so so angry still #this was not a sufficient amount of cooking #I may have to hunt someone specific for sport

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moeblob · 1 month

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I normally don't repost my art like this but since most of these are just posted as one picture I also don't wanna reblog a lot of posts. So! Please look at my Dream Wardens. I love them so much.

For the outfit meme thing btw, I would like to point out they don't really need sleep and they exist to work so no need for fun outfits. HOWEVER! Marcus and Colette's ties are the other's eye colors. Sil and Luce have gray ties because Luce was more recent (still a hundred years of partnership) so it's pretty much "you're being scored to make sure you can keep the job" and they eventually would get ties to match the other's eyes color.

The basic premise is! They live in a realm filled with dreams which they have to keep watch over to make sure don't escape. Whether dreams or nightmares, they must be contained. So it's kind of like a prison - each person has a cell that contains their dreams. There are.... a lot of wardens. But each "floor" has eight wardens and it's a circle where the wardens work in pairs. So Marcus and Colette are the focused pair and then they make rounds, they'll end the shift in a rest area where they either hang out with Luce and Sil or Sophia and Ruby. Those are the four they interact with while those four have another duo that they meet on their rounds.

The wardens cannot die. Literally impossble. They can get injured but it heals really quickly. So while Marcus would prefer to not be impaled (again) it wouldn't actually kill him. He'd just be sore.

They also just do not age. So they're centuries old. That said, for a while Colette had a different partner who retired and she got Marcus... and Marcus was incredibly quiet and reserved and scared of messing up for like 10 years before he started to warm up to her. (Time do be feelin' different there) And then he opens up a bit to Sil and Robert who was his partner at the time. And then hundreds of years pass and Marcus is super comfy with them (Sophia and Ruby still intimidate him a bit but that's different) and suddenly! No more Robert. Now it's Luce. And Marcus spends five years avoiding any and all conversations with him because oh no he's hot. Sil gets interrogated by Luce because "have I offended him in some way? he won't even look at me" and Sil is just "dude's shy. took him ages to warm up to me and my previous partner" and eventually Marcus laughs at something Colette says and Luce is like "ohhhhh nooooo I'm doomed he's so cute". While the entire time Marcus has been refusing to attempt conversation because "no he's handsome I'm doomed since I'm bad at conversations".

And they mention Robert sometimes (Colette, Marcus, and Sil) around Luce and Marcus seems chill about it. But then Marcus gets a serious injury that will recover but it would impact his job too much to patrol without a head so they send a temp replacement and it's Robert. And Sil is like "oh oh trade you Luce for my old partner give him" and Colette "are you kidding? you had him for sooooo long I wanna patrol with Robert now! it's only gonna be a little while!" and Robert just .... doesn't wanna be there. And when Marcus is fit to return he begs the people in charge of their routes to NOT LET ROBERT LEAVE until he can say hi and they let him. Unfortunately it involves Marcus busting into the break room saying "ROBBIE ROB!" and Robert sighing but standing up and extending his arms for a hug. Two pats on Marcus' back. and "okay bye". Luce is left in absolute despair cause he's never seen Marcus that happy oh boy.

Anyway my dream wardens mean a lot to me and I really miss them now.

#my characters #listen this isn't even all of them but holy moly i love them so much #this doesn't even show colette's gf! who has freckles!#also not pictured is robert whomst i fucking love and hes not there in plot often lmao #you really can see .... my art has changed..... very vaguely..... since i started drawing them and how it is now #there is too much under the read more and im so sorry i did try to contain it for those that arent interested #gonna draw for today now but just wanted to info dump my silly lil guys #my lil dream blorbos #it would be fun to make more image dumps thematically but maybe i will do that and shove them onto my side blog instead of here #you guys might not wanna see me dump ocs here #i mean depending on how long you've been here then lol you might have already seen it all

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alpaca-clouds · 8 months

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The Crusades (and how they Influence Castlevania)

I will just happily continue to do some historical framing of Castlevania, especially in regards to Nocturne, as it really has a ton of historical details in there. But I also noticed a ton of people refer to Mizrak as a Templar or a crusader - both in the positive and the negative sense. So, let me talk about two things today: Historical context of the Crusades and (in the evening, when I have a bit more time) also the Knight Orders that participated.

Understanding the crusades is also very important when it comes to understanding colonialism in how it happened, which doubly influences the plot of Castlevania Nocturne.

First: The first crusade happened mainly in 1096, though there were two years of things happening up to it. And make no mistake: The reasons for the crusades happening were entirely political.

Of course, the official story went like this: "Muslims have laid claim on Jerusalem, which is this important city for Christianity because it is where Jesus died (and according to some sources was born as well)! Now how can we do a pilgrimage there?! We need to reclaim Jerusalem!"

But that story was a lie. Yes, Muslim held Jerusalem at the time, but... here is the fact: Muslim at this time were very chill with other religions. So Christian could do their pilgrimage through the Muslim held territory no problem. They even build infrastructure for the Christian pilgrims. No problem.

No, the reason for it was different. For once the Byzantine had lost a lot of land to the Ottomans and Turks. And they petitioned the Western European nations for help reclaiming it.

But also: Pope Urban at the time had kinda the problem that there was another pope. (Yes, that happened a lot in history.) And he had been thrown out of Rome. So, he had the genius idea that if he build up the Muslims as this horrible enemy, he could unite the Christians under himself in the fight against them.

And thus the first Crusade started. It was chaos. They killed more Christians throughout eastern Europe than Muslims, because they just went pillaging and all those things.

But over the next about 200 years a ton more crusades happened. Like, officially eight crusades, but there were actually so many more, just that those eight crusades were happening with more nations participating.

Technically speaking the crusades did not even stop after 1291. Rather there were more smaller crusades. Often these were not about Jerusalem, but about reclaiming other areas from Muslim rule. But also about pillaging a lot of Muslim land and riches.

To relate this back to Castlevania: Isaac has probably been taken as a slave during one of the later crusades. And given we know Hector lived on Rhodes, he also would have seen one crusade trying to reclaim the island from the Muslims.

Now, why was this important in regards of colonialism?

Mostly, because the entire framework of thinking that influenced colonialism later came from here.

Until the crusades racism was not really a thing that existed. There was xenophobia, yes, but that was bound to culture, not to the color of skin or the shape of a face. But the crusades created a very effective image of the "dangerous other" in Arabs and Turks. And thus as the crusades progressed the idea that darker skinned people were inherently bad spread more and more throughout Europe and was pushed a lot by the church.

By the time the original Castlevania series is set the idea was the official church doctrine, which included that Black people were created by God to be slaves. It is this that made the colonizers turn to Africa to get their slaves. Because it was so interwoven with church doctrine by that time that it was just considered truth.

Now, at the point that Nocturne is set in, the crusades were very much over. But the fallout from them continued a long while onwards - technically speaking through to this day.

Some of the Knightly Orders that were created during the crusades were active in the French Revolution. Technically speaking some of them are active to this day. (Yes, the Knights Hospitaller included - just that they do not call themselves Knights anylonger.)

If you wanna learn more about the first crusade and the chaos that ensued, watch this little series by Extra History.

youtube

#castlevania #castlevania netflix #castlevania nocturne #history #crusades #crusaders #colonialism #religious history #byzantium #Youtube

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thegeminisage · 28 days

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WELL. it is time for the final tng update (until the movies ig). last night we watched the series finale, "all good things" parts i & ii.

all good things (not differentiating parts):

my main takeaway from this episode is that they somehow managed to bring back tasha yar, only to 1. have her do absolutely nothing 2. die again?? they have killed tasha yar three times. hat trick for dead tasha yar

second takeaway: old people makeup. i couldn't find any gifs for this episode because when you go in the tag they're all just comparisons with picard the show. which IS kind of fun, admittedly. losers in the old people makeup department: riker. winners: beverly. hers was kinda hot ngl. milf.

conceptually this episode kind of fucked. like, three eras of having to be in the same place, coordinating stuff over 4D space via rapid shifting...that's cool. there was a cool episode buried in here somewhere. i think the problem was 1. it took way too long to figure out what was going on 2. the three eras in question were season 1 of tng (bad), season 7 of tng (also bad), and tng 25 bad future. i have lots to say about the bad future in a sec but let's not get distracted. because all of these eras were bad, it wasn't very exciting to be coordinating stuff across them. i TOTALLY understand the temptation to bookend the show by going back to the pilot, but the sad truth is the pilot was AWFUL. q has largely been annoying and the trial was one of his MORE annoying appearances.

on the bad future: worf and riker fighting over deanna being DEAD somehow and us not getting any more information was pretty awful, especially since they sort of seemed to be having a fight about deanna in the present-day too. i don't like them fighting over her but i REALLY thing the deanna/worf was so rushed...riker is normally so chill too, it doesn't make any sense. plus it's absolutely bonkers that picard came back and DIDNT warn deanna she had 5 years to live. come on!!!

if geordi really grew back his eyes bc of the anomaly, why are they blue in the future? they look like prosthetics or something. also can't we just give him brown eyes cmon. also, it's SICK AND DISGUSTING they married him to leah. i like geordi, but his thing w women made liking him difficult, so thanks for reminding us of his absolute WORST moment right as we're saying goodbye to him forever

someone on the aos team did not do their research. romulus was destroyed in 2387, and the last season of tng is in 2370. that means this future era took place in 2395, eight years after romulus was destroyed. it would have been such an easy thing to avoid, too. you could have simply had spock and nero travel back from 2395 instead of 2387. like it's that easy. NOTHING would have to change except a number. this isn't even tng's fault like how could they know what crimes that man would commit. this is all on him. i like the aos movies but girl what the hell

wins for the future: data crazy cat lady. and everyone gaslighting picard. and beverly being soooo hot

the problem w this future is that it doesn't say anything about anyone except "you guys drifted apart without the mission to hold you together and forgot you needed each other." actually, it didn't say that second part, though i wished it had. the episode was also a bit muddied in that respect...like, what did it episode SAY about those three eras, other than "don't stop being friends later"? what did it SAY about picard and his crew? this is the finale, and there weren't any goodbyes or big character moments for anybody except picard, who had to have his big character moment in the fucking farpoint courtroom.

we did get canon worf/deanna and picard/beverly but she TURNED HIM DOWN EARLIER and only started macking on him when she found out she might die (just in time to get herself on the will and no that's not my joke). STAY STRONG...YOU DON'T NEED HIM...beverly crusher, i could be your man.

in a final act of hilarity, at the very end, picard INVITED HIMSELF TO CARDS. while i am always thrilled for poker games, and was feeling a genuine emotion about the last scene being a poker game, the profound silence when picard showed up at the door really dragged me out of it. "you were always welcome" HE LITERALLY TRIED TO DO THIS ONCE AND YOU GUYS THOUGHT IT WAS WEIRD

oh yeah. final note. can't believe they pussied out of shearing jonathan frakes for that flashback section. they just photoshop magicked that shit. it was clever, but it was cowardly

i really wish s7 of tng had been good...we had a few good ones near the beginning but the ones near the end were ALL duds. i could have forgiven so many crimes if we had gone out on a high note. tng WAS very good sometimes. i know they had it in them. unfortunately they generally chose to be ass instead, and as a result tng went out the way it came in: in the very worst courtroom scene in the entire world. rest in pieces.

NEXT TIME: ds9's "tribunal" and "the jem'hadar."

#personal #star trek #tng lb

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bestjeanistmonster · 1 year

Note

I recently found your S&T swap au and I am in love. It’s so good! And your art is so adorable you do not understand

Ok, so I had some thoughts while looking through your au.

Are their personalities different due to how their pasts are different?

And, I’m pretty sure, there were like ancient depictions of a form looking like Sonic saving the world and stuff so I wonder if like sonic was “destined” to be the hero but in this case that isn’t the role he had. Meaning Tails has to prove to himself and others that despite what destiny tried to say, he is a hero.

Aww thnx so much 🥺!!!

These are very good thoughts and there are a quite few differences in personality so I’m just gonna do this in sections:

Sonic:

Sonic’s not too different to how he is in canon, I think swap sonic still has like the same demeanour and attitude, like they’re not that different in terms of being pretty chill, too cool for school and generally being a little shit

He leans more into the piloting thing and he likes to fly fast. Do not insult his piloting skills unless you wanna annoy him

no one really expects him to be a super genius they’re always caught off guard by it when says something really scientific just casually (except the people who are just used to it)

He tends a danger to himself most of the time, being sent to the hospital every couple of weeks cuz of of his experiments, inventions or just straight up forgetting he fit the blowtorch on the floor. (A lot of the times is a some dumb stuff that he does for ‘science’)

Zero sense of self preservation and a tendency to just casually play off injuries (“Relax shadow, all the bleeding was internal, that’s where the blood’s supposed to be-“)

filled with lots of energy and from the lack of usage of his speed to let some of it out, always constantly moving. Constant leg bouncing disease and rambling at record speeds (only tails can understand him the most when he’s in ramble mode). He’s also a really fast thinker

When his speed is brought up he gets a bit visibly uncomfortable and changes the subject, pretending that it never happened

Hes bad at taking compliments, he just brushes it off and tries to either discredit himself or awkwardly change the subject. When he was younger he was even worse

The boy would not see sun in days if allowed to hyperfocus on inventing, tails often has to drag his ass outside when that happens

The tornado is his baby

Tails

He’s more confident & independent from doing hero stuff and travelling

He’s a huge history nerd, whenever they go to angel island he ignores sonic & knuckles he goes straight for the ruins.

He knows random trivia facts

He owns many notebooks and has about 6 in total so far

In his travels he loves to learn about different cultures and traditions

Tails’s 8 year old brain at some point just comes to the conclusion that he straight up can't die cuz after everything he's been through he's still alive and so Tails slowly becomes more reckless with his well-being because of it much to sonic’s chagrin

This kid is really curious, you would be surprised how many of his adventures started out as innocent curiosity. He gets side tracked a lot because of it. (Once Sonic asked him to go get some groceries from the supermarket, returned in gold armor with a sword and a country. He forgot the groceries)

He reads a lot of comic books for catchphrase and megamind voice presentation.

People often underestimate him due to his age and adorable appearance and he uses it to his advantage

Cusses frequently

Does not hold back on insults. Someone could be debating whether or not to fight this eight year old but then he opens his mouth and they’re like “nah, the kid deserves it.” And squares up

Destined hero thingy

Tail’s definitely did have to prove to others and himself that he was a hero despite it not being destiny, and sonic had to prove that just because he was ‘destined’ to be a hero doesn’t mean that has to do it it in a way that’s foretold of be a hero at all

But despite this Tails does have a bit of imposter syndrome and feels like, despite all that he’s achieved, he doesn’t deserve to be called the ‘hero of mobius’.

He was just a little kid who wanted to help

But sonic called bullshit on that and told him that’s exactly why deserves to be called a hero, a little kid standing up against seemingly impossible odds and challenges over and over again just because it’s the right thing to do.

I’m thinking that maybe the prophecy will come into play later down the line but I’m still deciding

Thanks for the ask!!!

#jeanist answers #S&T swap au #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sth #sonic and tails #tails sonic #tails the fox #miles tails prower

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axailslink · 1 year

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New years

Riri Williams x poc FEM reader

Summary: you and Riri experience a very realistic New year.

You've already had a few drinks tonight but who doesn't before they go to a party? Well, the second party of the night? Who doesn't have a few drinks before they go to the next party of the night? Riri has been eyeing you making sure you act right of course but you plan on having fun tonight. When you park in front of the rooftop party you can see Riri about to give you her set of rules talk but you kiss her stopping her from speaking. Riri laughs at your little sly way of getting her to be quiet."Have fun I know I'm going to" you get out of the car and smile at her she just shakes her head and follows behind you a smile on her face too. When you both get to the top of the stairs you can see Riri shake her head "can we go home?" You laugh as you walk all the way up and look at the view of all the building lights behind you "absolutely not at least not until you get some drinks in you." Riri is antisocial if antisocial took on a humanized form it would be Riri Williams she's not a fan of parties or anything with lots of people however get her some alcohol and she's the life of the party. The music's blaring you're drinking and watching the countdown you almost forget other people are there because you're too busy with her. You're slow dancing to the music as you sip your eggnog which of course has been spiked with a bit of Cognac... That was your choice, of course. Riri is dancing with you letting her hands stay hooked on your hips the night is calm for the first few hours. The closer the hours get to twelve the faster the music gets and the harder the drinks get. you managed to get four shots into Riri so she's loosened up and is grabbing onto your hips as you're holding your drink in the air and grinding against her. The air is chilled but your body is too warm to notice as you continue being the life of the party. Riri doesn't let you out of her grip most of the night but when she does you're dancing with friends and drinking shots.

A couple of your friends are pulling you to the drinking games and Riri of course follows behind you. you pick up a die and look at the others to catch the rules watching as they roll them and then proceed to down as many shots as their dice land on. you roll your dice and look at Riri who's watching when it lands on five you shake your head and look at Riri she leans up and whispers in your ear "you have fun I'll make sure you stay good tonight." As soon as Riri gives you the approval you need you're quick to take the shots and throw them back. "Fuck yeah that's my girl" Riri grabs you by your throat and licks from your chin to your lips causing you to laugh "you had a little something right there" you just smile at her and kiss her "you just wanted to put your mouth on me" Riri shrugs as she grabs you by your waist and pulls you to a secluded part of the roof. "you're going to be so pissed in the morning" she laughs as you turn towards her and dance to the music paying her no mind. The countdown's close now so the music has stopped and everyone's counting including Riri as she keeps you stable by holding onto your waist. "We got one minute to go everybody get yall last drink of the night!" When you try to pull from Riri's grip she gives you her red cup which you smell first and down without question you're going to be sick tomorrow but you could worry about that when it becomes tomorrow's problem.

Ten

Nine

Eight

Seven

Six

Five

Four

Three

Two

One

When the countdown ends everyone is cheering while you kiss Riri and she smiles into the kiss as she walks you toward the edge of the border of the railing. When you pull away she walks you down the stairs "I don't...waaaant to go" Riri shakes her head "you have had more than your body weight can handle and I don't want you throwing up in my car." you groan and pout but Riri can't help but smile. "Did you make a New Year wish?" you ask as Riri carefully helps you walk down the stairs "yeah I wished that next year you would decide to stay in for New Year." Riri laughs but you roll your eyes when you both finally make it to the car you place your hand on the car for stability feeling everything come up. Riri jumps back and shakes her head "get in the damn car damn... Hold your head out the window if you think you gone throw up come on." you look at her and groan "so you not gone hold my hair for me?" she shakes her head "absolutely not and you bet not throw up in Betty."

you definitely threw up in Betty which she did not let you live down in fact she sobered you up and made you help her clean it and she complained the whole time "and you wonder why I don't let you drive her can't even keep her clean" you throw your rag at her and groan "shut up I have a headache." Riri smiles to herself knowing when you sleep and wake it's only going to be worse.

A/n: yes this is boring so what? I have to rewatch The Death on The Nile so that I can start writing for Rosalie so take this for tonight, please. I'll give y'all some better fics tomorrow I promise

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himbeaux-on-ice · 2 years

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the insane thing(s) that happened to me yesterday

god uh where to begin uhhhh right. okay. so.

I have lived in Nova Scotia, within an hour of Halifax, my entire life. and of the four(?) Stanley Cup parades that have occurred in the city within that time, due to a variety of circumstances I've never gotten to attend a damn one. I've never so much as laid eyes on the damn thing in person. this has vexed me mildly for years

originally, I lamented that Nate had scheduled his parade on a deeply inconvenient day for me personally, but then schedules changed and it turns out there was actually a good chance I would, potentially, be free at the time of the parade, albeit stuck on the wrong side of the harbour. sure enough, my boss was an absolute g and let us all leave when we ran out of things to do in the morning, so I immediately beelined it across the harbour via transit (including a VERY crowded ferry) just in time to meet my roommate at the library and watch Nate’s parade go by from the air-conditioned third floor window, because my roommate is a genius.

there he is all tiny and holding the thing! wow! and also saw Cogs and Landy in their horse-drawn cart lol. alright well that took two seconds, bucket list item complete, time to go I guess!

I then split off from roommate, who wants to save money by making lunch at home, and head further downtown to get a burger and a vodka soda from Five Guys. then I wander over to Grand Parade to catch the end of Nate’s little speech, and yet another distant glimpse of the man and his Cup!

again, emphasis on distant.

alright well that’s done, now time to go find a spot to eat my burger and finish this drink. on impulse, I decide to wander slowly down to the waterfront to my favourite snack shack to get a slushie and try to find a seat by the water. it’s eight million degrees out so everyone on earth has the same idea and the line is super duper long and the area is incredibly crowded. but whatever, I have no place better to be today. I'll wait.

while I’m standing in line is when I start to notice the people moving through the crowd carrying columns of burgundy, blue and white balloons.

at first I think that they must have swiped them from the festivities on Grand Parade, which is an amusing thought. but then I realize they’re taking them into the staff entrance at the back of a large boardwalk patio restaurant, the Salt Box Beer Garden. watching them, I also start to notice that an entire half of the restaurant has been tarped off, is visibly empty of patrons (during a very busy boardwalk lunch hour on a beautiful Saturday afternoon), and has a small portable washroom trailer like the kind you can rent for nice weddings set up inside the cordon. as I watch, I can see employees moving the balloon towers around and hanging up some Avalanche jerseys around the patio, and doing wild things like polishing the handrails and going after cobwebs in corners nobody will ever look in with a broom. the kind of stuff you do when you have important guests coming over.

slushie in hand, I am now intrigued, and beginning to suspect what this is - the Beer Garden must be rented out for whatever post-parade party is gonna be held once Nate and the Cup are done touring the city later today. it's mid-afternoon, absolutely lovely down here by the water, and I have no obligations, so I set up at a picnic table with a decent view, pour the rest of the vodka soda into my slushie, dig into the burger, and amuse myself with observing the goings-on and relaying what I'm seeing to a few friends. this is an area of town that I often hang around in on warm days anyway, so even if I sit here all day and see nothing, that's by no means a waste of an afternoon. maybe if I stick around long enough, I can get a little closer glimpse of some of the NHLers over the tarp, or of the Cup! perhaps even the so-far-elusive Sid the Kid...

several very chill boardwalk hours later, it's a bit after five, the band has started up inside, and the security guys who showed up a while ago have begun letting people who show up and say the right things in through a gate to the left of those trash cans. I've gone through a second slushie, had my picnic table stolen by a family of tourists while I was sitting at it (leading me to move down onto the steps in front of it, which are closer to the gate and comfier anyway), and had a very relaxing afternoon. I'm clearly not the only person who has caught on and started hanging around, either, as by now there are a lot of other people standing about on the steps. my portable battery pack has finally died and I'm starting to do the math on how much longer I can stick around before I have to leave.

then, while fiddling with my phone, I hear a kid on the steps to my left shriek "OH MY GOD IT'S HIM!!" as the crowd breaks into excited murmurs.

I look up, then look down the boardwalk to my right.

reader, if I'd stood up and taken four steps forward, I could've touched the damn thing.

(and then presumably been tackled by that large bearded man, who seemed to be some kind of security)

Nate raised the Cup for the little gathered crowd as we whooped, and then took it into the already-started party to the sound of delighted welcoming cheers. those of us on the boardwalk mostly stood around murmuring to each other, like, "wow, did that really just happen?" and then we all sorta dispersed our separate ways. I went to buy a Beavertail pastry and find a power outlet, and then departed into the warm summer night.

and to think, a week ago, I hadn't even expected to make it to the damn parade!! I'll never resist the urge to go buy a slushie again

(the second insane thing that happened to me actually deserves its own post, but let's just say I also had a little cryptid sighting...)

#iiiiiiinsane #pls be normal with this post that's all i ask #nathan mackinnon #colorado avalanche #nate mackinnon #stanley cup #the stanley cup #long post

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7grandmel · 2 months

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Todays rip: 28/03/2024

Logan Paul's Shop

Season 6 Featured on: 7 GRAND MAVERICK

Ripped by Retro Gaming

youtube

There's a pretty big day coming up ahead that I'm sure a lot of SiIvaheads are looking forward to - April Fools, or in other words the day where SiIvaGunner channel annually goes fucking bonkers for a bit. I've had a few ideas on what I myself should do on the blog to commemorate the day, and in that rumination for ideas I found myself going through the eight different April Fools events that the channel has done throughout the years. There are some that I've already covered on here - notably, the excellent but subdued bit played in Season 1 with Grand Dad Metropolis - and some you'll likely be seeing more of later, but one particular event stuck out to me as one I haven't really given too much thought since when it first aired. April Fools of Season 6, the Logan Paul takeover.

I don't think I've made it a secret on here that I think Jake Paul rips are some of the funniest on the entire SiIvaGunner channel. It's Everyday Bro just has such a miraculous blend of being at once inherently funny due to its associations and vocals, incredibly distinct in sound largely due to its beat, and incredibly effective due to just how PROMINENT Jake Paul is as a figure online. I mean really, It's Everyday Lake and Crompton Racing speak for themselves! But in the midst of all that fun, it sort of became my only perception of both Paul brothers in a way? The fact that they were actual people, and not just figureheads to be poked fun at through rips and other shitposts - such as Logan's infamous vacation to Japan - sort of gradually slipped my mind - and I'd completely forgotten that Logan Paul was like...still doing stuff? That made his sudden appearance on the channel on April Fools during Season 6 feel like one hell of a trip at first, but it was one that I quickly caught up on and was immediately on board with.

Because like yeah - at first when I think of this event, I think of all the rips featuring The Fall of Jake Paul, a song made by Logan specifically to mock It's Everyday Bro and Jake Paul in general. It's more of a diss track than it is an actual song, and it felt like the perfect anthem for the event as a whole. A "years later" response to the original Jake Paul takeover of Season 3; with Season 6 already being all about change and moving on, it was the perfect storm, the perfect call-and-response payoff. Those rips are what I remember most from the event, and also feel like they fit my perception of Logan Paul in general pretty perfectly, if that makes sense. The overly aggressive, energy-filled, hype beast-like behavior he has in The Fall of Jake Paul is just perfectly in line with everything I've seen of Logan Paul (and, honestly, is likely quite accurate to the kind of person he's been for most of his stardom). Those rips alone made the event special - but the reason I picked Logan Paul's Shop in particular is because it surprised me in the absolute opposite way. I'll admit it - I never knew that Logan Paul had bangers.

Be honest - if you'd just listened to the above linked rip whilst somehow not registering the title let alone gotten to this point in the text, would you be able to tell me that this is the same guy who made The Fall of Jake Paul? Sure, there are traces of Logan's trademark juvenility in it, 2020 is pretty explicitly a song about current-day topics with a focus on the COVID-19 pandemic and all that happened during it, there's clearly comedic intent throughout - but the overall vibe of Logan's performance feels far more lighthearted and chill on the whole, a far cry from the performative pretend-coolness or self-aggrandizing attitude of the songs that the Paul brothers are most well known for. That's not to say that 2020 is a masterpiece, but it genuinely caught me off guard when a rip first used it - and, if handled well, I feel like it could slot in perfectly with other hip-hop focused rips like Top of the Looping Steps or, perhaps more comparatively, Sidelined Symphony.

And indeed, as if it wasn't already heavily inferred: I think Retro Gaming went absolutely above and beyond in making Logan Paul's Shop. I'm actively trying to not feature more Undertale/Deltarune music on here than I have to, but its hard to avoid when so many rippers on the team are so proficient in getting the game to sound so damn good. This is at once a mashup between Undertale's Shop music with the aforementioned Logan Paul song, and a melodyswap - with the Shop music edited at several points to have its melody follow Logan's vocals. It's as if the rip ebbs in and out of being a melodyswap at the perfect times - for instance, the beginning of 2020's chorus is entirely vocals with no beat, and this effect is replicated by having Shop's lead instruments play perfect parity to the melody.

There's several little touches and quirks added to the rip throughout on top of it all - a nod to Omori song 100 Sunny (a whole year before it would become a prominent meme on TimmyTurnersGrandDad?), the instruments of the Wii Shop Channel playing when the lyrics mention "Credit Card Dept", an entire segment suddenly using the instruments to The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time's shop theme - none of these things detract from the core vibe of the rip, carried by 2020's vocals, melody and beat, yet they keep the experience incredibly varied and at points funny in a "mild chuckle" sort of way. Finding new ways to keep the joke of the rip novel is one of my favorite things to see in rips, I recall You Are Book Smart standing out to me earlier this year for specifically that reason - and this is already on top of Logan Paul's Shop being inherently novel in concept alone!

Because really: I don't think anyone was going into the Logan Paul takeover expecting to find bangers not born out of irony. That is not to say that the rips using The Fall of Jake Paul *aren't* bangers (again; these were the rips I was considering on featuring today to begin with!), but that they're bangers in a very different sort of way. I love rips like GREAT DABS - Jake Paul's Bizarre Adventure: Christmas is Lit because they're able to take obnoxious music and remix it in a way that makes them work - the rippers' is, through their sheer skill, take otherwise rather cringeworthy music and make it work beautifully in their arrangement. Logan Paul's Shop surprised me because it goes completely against that formula, the formula I'd thought was set-in-stone for personalities as obnoxious as the Paul brothers, and is a genuinely great rip whilst using genuinely pretty-good music as the primary source. Retro Gaming went above and beyond in a way that he really didn't need to in order for the larger Logan Paul event to work, and I'm really thankful he did - getting to uncover gems like this is a huge part of why I love running this blog to begin with.

#todays siivagunner #season 6 #siivagunner #siiva #Retro Gaming #undertale #deltarune #utdr #mashup #mashups #rap music #logan paul #undertale music #utdr music #Youtube #Bandcamp

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yen-doodles · 2 years

Text

Red Son - Sitcom AU

Finally able to think about someone other than Sun Wukong or Macaque in this au, props to me!

Humor aside- I've been thinking of nothing but Red boyo so y'all get spur of the moment things about him for sitcom, though I can't promise it to be angst free- enjoy!

Is either high honors or principal's list in terms of grades (somewhere between 85-95 is his average)

He is so stressed all the time, my guy needs to chill

Gives himself his more homework in hopes of becoming better

Puts most of his self worth into getting good grades similarly to how he does in the show with schemes

Rich boy/girl, not necessarily the spoiled kind but definitely was a little entitled at the beginning

Has a curfew

Parents are the type to blow up her phone when their even just a few minutes late to coming home

Mk and Mei add him instantly to a group chat when they first meet

Says it's to communicate about their project without needing to be in first but it's mostly used to send memes, much to Reds dismay

They grow to find comfort in the group chat when she's having trouble with his parents

Gender fluid because ofc

Has a lot of books comprising of many different genres

Textbooks through the years, books they got to use for projects, a lot of ones on mechanics and engineering as well as just general science stuff

Is a big science nerd!

Mostly a big fan of chemistry and physics

Swk is still his uncle like in jttw but the ties between the bull family and wukong are complicated (talk about it in another post since it isn't red related)

Pif and dbk are still not good parents in this(at least until what would s3 of the au), I don't want to completely rewrite them since I want this to be close to lmk canon

I'm just going to have them be a tiny bit different

They are very strict to red and belittles him when he gets even a bit lower grade than expected

Red is very uncomfortable being touched by them like in the show

Mac is also kinda his uncle but they only briefly met when she was really young

Sucks at most art things, when they have to do an art project they tend to do something with mechanics

After she started hanging out with Mei and mk more frequently, and not just for school projects, he would try to find ways to show they were worthy of being their friend

Doing a lot of favors whenever they needed help with something, asking if they needed something fixed, using his allowance to buy them gifts or food as a way to convince em to let her stay

Is a stickler for rules and regulations

Will call someone out if they cheat at monopoly, will have them restart an entire game because someone broke a rule

Comes over to mks house whenever they hang out, the trio rarely go to red's or meis house

Mei and him confide in each other about their strict parents

Is one of the few people in the group to have a fashion sense

They got the pretty genes your honor

Gets acne breakouts from being overly stressed

Has multiple pairs of glasses in her bag incase they forget their usual pair at home

Is the type to go to sleep at seven or eight at night and wake up at like five in the morning

Is solely a tea drinker and refuses to drink coffee

Believed for the longest time that coffee stunts your growth

Has a full skin care routine

Puts hot sauce or something spicy in pretty much everything

Hates most cold foods

Literally heater

High pain tolerance

Very picky and tends to stays to a lot of their safe foods

Has MK and Mei's favorite and least favorite food memorized

Has said foods ready at her house when they're planned to visit

Will comment on how childish a show is, watches ironically to make fun of it in more detail, them finds them self hyper fixating on the show

The one that brings the shopping list to the store

Once mac gets redeemed, is thankful to have another person with a brain cell to converse with

Tutors mk sometimes

Struggles with basic money math but is able to do complex calculus in her sleep

Has given their two friends a scare because they went on a book reading binge and was too hyperfocused to answer their texts for a week

Phone background and home screen remains whatever the default was when he got the phone, doesn't see the importance of changing it

Until Mei stole their phone and changed everything, it was something he liked but still

Has one thing from every hyper fixation she's had in a box in their closet

Even though he's a heater, puts on thicker/warmer clothes at the briefest sign of fall or winter

She needs to set an example for the rest

Sandy's pets love them in the colder months, especially the cats

Owns both the girl's and boy's uniform for his school

Somehow extremely hated and liked at the school

Is far sighted(can see things that are far away) and has astigmatism

Can only sleep when their body is a plank and doesn't move in her sleep

Can cook since he gets left alone at home quite a bit

Is oldest out of the trio

Tw for the next few///

Hits self when frustrated or really angry

Picks at skin until they bleed

Has forgotten to eat or sleep for days because they were trying to perfect a project

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sir-yeehaw-paws · 1 year

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WIP Tag Meme Thingymabobber Post the document titles in your WIP folder (no matter how silly or non-descriptive they may seem) and let people send you asks about the title that intrigues them most! Provide a snippet or further elaboration to askers!

I have to cheat a bit here as these have no titles at present and are currently like..in document folders with no titles. So instead you get further details of my ideas. Send asks if you like or want to know more of course :D

Tagging: Steal with abandon I never wanna leave people out askdjnsajksd

Tagged by @theowlseye Because I do indeed have THINGS but those THINGS are not at all connected whatsoever! However I can tell you that I have:

Parasite AU Verse

My OC Ocelot Unit I’ve been building up

General Fic Ideas Like:

That long spiraling Venom fic that is eventually going to get off the ground.

Ocelot getting badly injured and visiting the Sorrow’s river purgatory. But his is uhm, well pretty full, and long. He can hear the Sorrow as he moves around, but not see him, not at first.

For some reason I’ve really wanted to write the ‘fight we did not see’ between Olga and Snake in MGS2 on Big Shell.

Further Details Below Cut

Here’s my Ocelot Unit Thus Far (And yes they’re all queer b/c I said so)

Fawning Lion is one of the best shots (long range, close range,) he's kinda scrawny, very shy. Youngest

Yowling Tiger is twice his size. She's very fit and agile. Better with knives than guns.

Angry Panther is the oldest (four years older than Ocelot). He's one of the OG and kinda bolder as a result. Large. Wide.

Growling Cougar does a bit too much weed but he's the best at CQC and the best spy of the unit next to Ocelot himself.

Raging Snow Leopard is kinda chill, a bit underweight. But he's super fast and can be in an out with intel in ten minutes, or less. His best time is one minute eight seconds. Ocelot almost framed it.

Cheering Cheetah is the cleverest. She's the most varied in skills and can sweet talk her way out of anything, and then stab you in the back for the trouble.

Irate Jaguar is the other OG unit member. He's the third eldest of the lot and aged a bit too hard. He probably drank too much at one point, the wrinkles are permanent. When Panther isn't challenging Ocelot it'll be him, but he's loyal to a fault.

Casual Lynx kinda just likes to vibe, and take things apart to get information, then put them back together.

Lion has gotten the most attention when I’ve explored things thus far and I’ve not yet decided on things like hair colour, skin tone, etc etc but at *present* this is how I’ve got them set up. They’re a work in progress. Ocelot hand-picks them all, and of course some can be added if he wants them with him. Nobody understood why he picked Lion at first, but he knew what he saw and what he saw was potential.

The Parasite AU

The long and short of this is Kaz being second-hand exposed to the parasites vs having direct therapy. Hence why I headcanoned his being under the skin spider webbing vs a face mask. I also believe that Kaz’s parasites eventually infected a tiny bit of others, depending on how much Kaz either knows or likes them *and the parasites made the choice more than Kaz, feeding off his subconscious.* Ocelot has some in his neck, and Venom’s got some that embedded where his prosthetic would attach. The parasites protect them and Venom gets a little bit of a strength boost as a result. Kaz can also communicate on that level with Quiet and Code Talker, respectively.

There’s far more coming, it’s a wholeeeee thing I’ve got going on. But I’ve established the parasite’s having some sort of ‘mind of their own’ not to be mistaken for true conscious, mind.

And that’s about it for now. I definitely have more but this is where I’ve started fleshing things out, so to speak.

Thank you for tagging me! :D This is a good excuse to post my stuff with further background without making a weird “how do I describe this’ in another fic.

#ask games #tag games #fanfic asks #fanfic tag games #nate does writing

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kariachi · 2 years

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I sit here, minding my own business, and what does my brain do? “Write sads, Achi.” So here we are.

Some angsty Ben and Kevin fic, post-Gwev1n, where some shit is dragged into the light.

Not Papa-friendly.

Ben was angry. Maybe it wasn’t right, for him to react like this, maybe he should’ve moved passed it in these long weeks, but he was. His favorite cousin was heartbroken, and one of the few points of real stability in his life had crumbled. So yes, maybe he was beating on a dead horse, had been for while now, but he felt it was allowed. It felt like everything had been ruined, and that was reason enough to make sure his point got across.

“You’re not going to do better than her!”

“I know.”

Two words were enough to stop him dead in the middle of his fourth chewing out since the break-up. Mid-gesture, Ben sat frozen, staring at Kevin with an almost slack-jawed glare.

“Then why,” he said, nay, insisted, leaning over the table with no care to the tension in Kevin’s shoulders, “would you be stupid enough to dump her like that?” In a crowded café, less than fifteen minutes before she had a big test, his apartment cleared out by the time she was done. Kevin took a deep breath and gave him the emptiest smile he’d seen in eight years.

“I couldn’t just sit back and be abused anymore, Benji, or I was gonna snap.”

If ‘I know’ was enough to shut Ben up, the word ‘abused’ was enough to put a chill deep in his gut. His immediate instinct was to argue- Gwen was a good person, and even if she could be a bit rough it was just because she was under a lot of stress and needed to get her point through thick heads, she wasn’t bad- but he didn’t get the chance before Kevin continued, words spilling out like a floodgate burst.

“I mean, I get it, I’m a horrible person, I deserve it, but Benji, I’m tired. I been dating since I was fourteen and there hasn’t been a single person who didn’t beat me, belittle me, or worse, and I just-” He let out a shuddering breath that carved through Ben’s chest. “You’re right, I know, I’m not gonna find someone who doesn’t do that sorta shit, and I don’t deserve someone who wouldn’t. But I’m at the point where I’m just gonna take being alone forever, ya know? Not like you can’t live a full life like that, people do it all the time.”

It wasn’t right.

It wasn’t right that he was accusing Gwen of- of whatever he was accusing her of. (‘You know exactly what he’s accusing her of, you’ve seen it-’) It wasn’t right that he was dragging Ben’s own words into this. (‘You’ve seen it and excused it-’) It wasn’t right that as the moments ticked by Kevin straightened his shoulders and averted his eyes, like he could pretend he’d said nothing. (‘How long has he been keeping this to himself, you’re his best friend-’) It wasn’t right that the most stubborn man and doting romantic he knew had just admitted to giving up any love life. (‘You’re supposed to look out for people, you’re a hero-’)

(‘How many times did you see her hurt him, and how many times did you tell him she was the best he could do-’)

“Kevin,” he said with no clue what would come after, his ire fast melting away in face of icy reality.

“Just…” Kevin didn’t look at him again, but he didn’t have to for Ben to actually look for the first time in weeks and see the hollow surrender in his face. “I get it. I do. You don’t have to keep shoving my nose in it.” He threw a fry into his mouth, biting down like the crack of a gavel ending the conversation. Something in Ben twisted as he clenched his teeth and tried to let it all slide passed like so many hard topics before. If Kevin didn’t want to talk anymore, well, the least he could do was try, even as he knew he wouldn’t be able to forget what he’d heard. What was happening.

With a deep breath of his own, he took a sip of his smoothie and did his best to pretend he hadn’t fucked up to a whole new degree.

#fanfic #not-so-fun fact: this is the nicer version of the image in my head #the other version take place about a *decade* after the breakup #with people slowly realizing he hasn't dated at all since gwen and ben deciding to ask him what's up with that #ben: it can't be that he's heartbroken because *he* left *her*#kevin: oh yeah no i just realized i was never gonna have a good relationship so i stopped #ben: ......oh we have all missed some fucking *shit* going on in your broken little head all these years

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bts-trash-blog · 2 years

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Time~OT7 Werewolf Au Coming Soon

Summary: Time. It's always passing by, always changing things that you wish stayed the same. It brought the good and it brought the bad, hell it brought the down right best time in your life. The best thing in your life came with time. It came with some stumbled steps, tough spots...it came with time.

Pairing: Werewolf!BTS X Werewolf!reader

Warning: Angst, mentions of violence, sexual assault, blood, gore, sex, matting, bitting, knotting, insecurities, slow burn. Fluff, and just one of my stories tbh.

Soooo my little four part OT7 Werewolf story has inspired this mess. I've been working on this all of 2021, and you guys have been waiting patiently for this. This is the same story, but with better detail and the parts I have put out have been rewritten with more details and just overall a whole lot better plot and storyline than they were before. Welcome to the world of Time.

You were nervous.

The air was cold, so cold it felt sharp when it hit your chest. The chill ran down your spin and into your joints as you let out a slight painful whine.

Stiff.

You were beyond stiff. Having been in your wolf form for a little over a mouth was killing your muscles. Your eyes looked around rapidly, brown ears twitching as you listened into the bustling life of the forest around you, trying to hear for anyone close by. Yet the sound and smell of a group of people, laughter and deals was enticing.

Werewolves, your kind, are social creators by nature, they were drawn to the lights of people of their own kind. You were drawn to the heart of people, the smell and sounds of what a pack life would bring. You were given mates, a being who genetically fit your own, one who would help you prosper in life. You were made to make life and pass the knowledge you had learned down to the pup you and your mate could make. Ranks were made.

Made for pack life to have balance. Alphas were the leaders, the head of the pack, the protectors. They kept the pack safe, kept the pack in line. Betas were the healers, the mediators and the comfort for the pack. Omegas were the caring figures, they soothed the others without hesitation, they cared for the pack.

Yet they weren’t always cared for.

You weren’t cared for.

Your home pack was ran by crude Alphas, who thought Omegas were nothing but weak. Breeding cattle. That's what you were to them. Someone to fuck and leave, mates were torn apart becaus of it. Betas were not supposed to be mated to Omegas, only Alphas. Only Alphas could mark their mates, not the other way around. Omegas could only know how to clean, cook or please others. Nothing else. Education was limited to knowing how to care for an Alpha. Omegas could not shift without permission, and Omegas could not under any sucustaces say no to an Alpha within the pack.

So when your pack fell to hunters, you ran.

The Alpha who had commanded you to never shift had been ripped to pieces in front of you but the hunters hadn’t noticed your shivering naked body that had crawled under the bed when he had barged in. You still remember the smell of blood and the look in the Alpha's eyes when his head hit the ground. The feeling of any and all of his Alpha commands lifting from your omegas soul. It had you wanting to gasp out in releaf, but you kept your mouth covered.

Somehow you made it out.

And now you're here.

Eight years later, heats spent in caves, and your stomach twisting in hunger is a normal occurrence. You have no clear idea how you had survived all this time on your own. Though you could feel the want, no, the need to find ones like you. A pack, maybe a mate. Your omega so touched starved she had been pushed so deep in your mind you never heard her unless you were in your heat. Though you know you would never truly trust your mate, how could you? Your pack had no true value in the world of mates, no respect for omegas like yourself. So how could you trust anyone, though the growing hunger for interaction, something you hadn’t had in weeks at this point, was becoming to much.

So you had been searching for what you had just stumbled upon. A werewolf market. Hidden in the woods, always traveling, moving, where packs and wolves like you. They exchange goods, packs make alliances with others, and people just go for interaction with people outside of their home. When you had first stumbled into it, still in wolf foam, you were greeted with kind eyes as they encouraged you to change. You were able to find someone to give you clothes after informing them of the hunters you had been running from. Since then you are always chasing after it, looking for it.

You dropped the bag that was in your mouth, body shifting, twisting out of your wolf form as you let out a pained whine. Hands pressing against the ground below you, the feeling of slightly moist dirt below you, your fingers gripping it in your hand as you look up. The pain radiating down your spine had you groaning as you looked up and shaking your body, slightly, grabbing your bag and pulling out a black slip on dress. Pull it on your stand and grab your bag, a hair tie pulled out and your hair thrown into a very messy pony. You walk out of the treeline, no eyes on you as you do, making you keep your head held high as you walk across the bustling crowd. Your eyes look around the market, the dusty dirt roads having barefoot marks making you fight a smile as you walk up to a cart, the smell of lamb had your mouth watering, you see lamb skewers making you look at the dealer who give you a bright smile.

Beta.

“How much for three?”

“You can trade me fabric, or gold. If you have hunter coins it would be four.” Her voice was soft as you nod and look into your bag, the coins jiggling as you grab your coin purse and pull out four. “I love the slip on, is it from Momo?”

“Yeah it is, she does amazing and fast work.” You agree, as you watch as she places the skewers into a paper wrap.

“She really does, your breasts look great.” Her comment had your eyes slightly widen as she giggled. “What? Some dresses make bigger boobs look saggy but this one makes them look nice.”

“Thank you.” You mumble awkwardly, making her nod as she hands you the food as you give her the coin. Walking away you pick one up and take a bite, it had your stomach groaning as you walked through the market. As you did you were greeted with small waves, and hellos as you threw the trash away into a bin as you stopped in front of a jewelry table, you felt eyes on you. Looking up your eyes caught no one, though the heavy stare of someone had you take a deep breath when you suddenly saw doe eyes on you. You felt the world around you freeze, as his tall frame started to walk towards you, his black hair curling into his face as you felt yourself take a deep breath in. Panic filled you as you started to step away from the jewelry table, turning on your heel as you quickly tried to rush through the market. Eyes scanning behind you to see the Alpha following you, and some others trailing after you. It had your heart pounding against your chest, as you shifted without a second thought into the treeline, bag in your mouth as you heard a group of men whimpering behind you.

Your eyes peek behind you as the other behind your mate. The look they gave makes your heart stop though the fear in your running through you keeps you from meeting them at the treeline. To see them, no you were too scared.

Maybe in time, you would find them again.

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

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Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow.

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek.

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.”

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.”

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all.

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.”

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound.

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

��Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.

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