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surielstea · 2 days

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Hangovers & tattoos

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader wakes up in Azriel’s bed with a mysterious tattoo that eerily matches his.

Warnings: slightly suggestive, all silly fluff though

2.4k words

Sunlight streamed through the open curtains haphazardly, my brows twitching together as I groggily pulled myself from the depths of sleep.

I awake with a groan, rubbing at my eyes that had been sealed shut. As soon as I open them I'm met with a horrible pound to my head, my entire body aching with every movement I make. I rolled onto my stomach, stuffing my head in the cold pillows with a huff.

I had to make an effort to peel my tongue from the roof of my mouth as I settled over the fact that going back to sleep would not be an option.

I twist onto my side, staring at a winged figure with his head against my pillows, dark hair cascading over his eyes. I smile at the sight of Azriel sleeping so peacefully. Then I realize he's sleeping so peacefully, in my bed. I jolt, scrambling away from his sleeping figure and inevitably tumbling off the mattress.

I hit the ground with a hard thud, followed by my hiss of pain as the hardwood sends paralyzing shock waves throughout my entire body.

Before I can collect myself I hear an incoherent mumble that came from the Shadow Singer. I tense, bending down to avoid being caught sneaking around in my own bedroom.

"Are you alright princess?" His voice was deeper than usual, still filled with sleep. I freeze for a moment, wondering how he had managed to know it was me, even if he did see me he was still half asleep. Then I quickly void that thought and curse myself for not thinking about his shadows, the same dark tendrils that were now twining around my ankles.

"I'm fine," Is all I can manage.

"Gods, my head is pounding," He grits out and I'm unsure if I should get back up onto the bed or stay down on the ground out of his sight, where I felt much safer.

Last night... it had been a blur entirely, the only thing I can remember is Cassian handing me and Azriel our first shot of the night, followed by many, many more. I clench my eyes shut, attempting to fish anything more from the night before out but I come up blank. "We didn't uh... did we?" I murmur, the pregnant silence is heavy as he thinks over the dilemma.

"Are you sore?" He says and I roll my eyes at his arrogance.

"No," I scoff.

"Then no, we didn't," He hums.

That hadn't been good enough, so I looked down at my outfit, a sigh of relief leaving me as I realized I was still wearing the same underwear from last night.

Last night when I seemed to obtain a case of amnesia. Cassian and Azriel had invited me to go out, Mor tagged along, and then... nothing. I had no idea why Azriel was in my bed or what drunk decisions I made to get that to happen.

Slowly, I rise from the floor and rush towards my wardrobe, still dressed in the short glittery dress I had boldly picked last night.

"What are you doing?" He rubs at his eyes, staring at me as I begin to take off the straps of my dress. I froze, realizing he was still there.

This headache wasn't making our situation any better.

"Changing?" I say, looking down at my rumpled outfit.

"This is my room," He said, sitting up from the pillows, the sheets falling off of him and revealing his bare chest, toned with rippling muscle. I swallow thickly, glancing around the room that was now so obviously not mine. I nearly crumbled from embarrassment, my cheeks tinging a scarlet red.

"Right, sorry, I'll go," I sidestep towards the door and his dark brows crease.

"Wait," He calls, slipping from the warm sheets I had gotten such amazing sleep in, and follows me to the door. "I'll make you breakfast, as a thank you for... whatever took place last night," He glances back to the bed and then back to me.

"You don't have to," I shake my head, eager to get out of the ordeal entirely.

"I want to, c'mon," His hand makes contact with my lower back as he guides me from his bedroom and down the long hallway.

I had been crushing on the Shadow Singer for over a year now. It had been unbearable to watch him bring other girls to bed since simple one-night stands with no connection aside from physical, but still, I wish I had even that amount of relation with him. But now he’s got his hand on my back, about to make me breakfast just because we woke up in the same bed together. I was sure I wouldn’t be able to get over him if I tried.

I made coffee while he worked on breakfast, my head felt as if it was swelling into my skull, a painful feeling that stabbed into the most sensitive parts of my brain.

I softly groaned as I poured a heaping spoonful of sugar into my steaming cup. I left Azriel's mug unattended, knowing he preferred the bitterness of it while I simply drank it for the caffeine, wanting to get rid of the taste altogether.

A low whistle sounds from down the hall, paired with a heavy set of footsteps that were unmistakably Cassian's. "Morning you two," The male said as soon as he spotted Azriel and us silently moving through the kitchen.

"Morning," Azriel grumbles but I can't even function enough to manage a reply. Cassian's hulking figure brushes past me and toward Azriel, where he had been by the stove. "Hands off," Azriel spat, and I hadn't been watching but I could only assume Cassian was attempting to steal from the pan while Azriel swatted him away.

"Hey, I didn't know you got a new tattoo," Cassian gasps and I whirl around to look at the two males, my eyes narrowing on a sketch of ink over the Shadow Singers' fourth finger, swirling down onto the back of his palm and wrapping up his wrist. Azriel looks at it as if he's never seen it before, his brows twitching together. Cassian gasps again and we look at him with expectant expressions, waiting for him to explain.

"That's a mating ceremony tattoo," He mumbled beneath his breath. Azriel’s eyes snapped to me like he had something to confess.

"A what?" I nearly choke on my own air. Mating? If Azriel was mated already there was no way in hel I'd ever have a chance. I knew I shouldn't have waited so long for him to ask me out, knew I should’ve asked him myself and faced rejection.

"A mating tattoo, matching with your significant other, you get them during the ceremony," He explains as if we genuinely hadn’t known what a mating tattoo is.

"That's ridiculous, I think I'd remember mating with someone, I wouldn't even know where to begin to find someone like that," Azriel scoffs, eyes now avoiding me at all costs and glancing up at the ceiling, to the stove where he had been cooking.

"Well then I suppose we need to find who has the matching tattoo," Cassian hums, then dramatically gasps louder than his last two, pulling his hands from his pockets and inspecting his unmarked hands.

"Oh thank gods," Azriel sighed in relief with a heavily sarcastic tone when recognizing that Cassian's hands were bare of ink.

"Cass be serious, you'd know if it was you," I argue, rolling my eyes at his idiocracy.

"You'd be able to feel something like that," I bring up my hands to show him.

“Az would probably know himself—" I start but I quickly cut myself off when I notice a black smudge on the bottom of my ring finger.

I flip my hands around and stare at them intently. The black tattoo on my left hand embedded into my skin as if it's always been there, and now that I knew I swore it pulsed with life. I ran my finger over it, then began to frantically rub at it, wondering if it’ll come off, if this was all some sick joke. But it remained, and then all of it came crashing down on me.

Mated tattoos. Mated. Azriel and I are mated.

"You're my," I couldn't even get the word out. "My," I breathed through the word, staring down at my hand, black ink wrapping around my wrist, up the back of my palm with swirls and wisps of black until twining around my ring finger entirely. Mine was much lighter than his, more delicate, but the same pattern nonetheless.

He held his hand out towards me, palm facing mine. I tentatively met it with my own, settling my palm against his, his hand much, much larger than mine yet somehow the tattoos had matched up, each line on my skin swirling into one on his.

"Gods, how drunk were we last night?" I sigh, a line coming between my brows.

I pull my hand away from his despite the magnetic force pushing us together telling me not to. "I'm going to leave you two to it," Cassian slowly removes himself from the uncomfortable situation.

"Wait, do you remember anything?" I whirl around to face him. He looks between us, and then his eyes go wide, staring at neither of us but rather what's between us, a golden tether tying our souls, binding them beyond just connection.

"Maybe ask Mor," He rubbed at the back of his head, and I knew with the movement that his hangover had been just as horrid as mine.

"Thanks anyway Cass," I mumble and he nods before excusing himself down the hall.

I slowly turned back to my coffee which was no longer steaming.

It was an effort to even swallow, the silence between us thick with tension, filled entirely with questions that don't have answers, and answers to questions we were too afraid to ask.

"So, mates, that's pretty cool," I mumbled beneath my breath and a smile curved at his lips, attempting to suppress the grin but ultimately failing.

"This is absurd," He shakes his head with a chuckle. "Shouldn't you be taken by The Frenzy?" I wonder, glancing over to him. He swallows and I watch as his throat bobs with effort, avoiding my gaze.

"Oh, I am,"

"What do you mean?" I spin around to face him, my mug cupped in my hands as I stare at him curiously.

"I hadn't noticed it at first, it's kind of how I always feel," He confesses and my brows crease, my confusion doubling over.

"Towards you I mean, I've known we're mates for a while now," His admission nearly makes me choke on my coffee.

"You didn't— why didn't you tell me?" I stutter, placing my cup down before I drop it. He had known all this time? Hasn't he picked up on the hints I had been attempting to give him? Or had he been dragging me along in fear I'd reject the bond?

"I would've told you sooner if I knew you'd find out like this," He gestures between us, at the golden line tethering my core to his I realize. "It's unfair," He adds.

"What is?"

"You were drunk, you didn't get to choose to accept it with good conscience," He explains with a sigh, my new mate clearly in distress about the events he could've avoided if he just confessed a day earlier. "And now you can't reject it, and I feel like I somehow forced it upon you," His hands fall to his sides in defeat and my heart softens. And maybe it was the power of the mating bond that gave me the confidence to take a step forward and grab his tattooed hand with my own.

"Azriel," I start, lacing his fingers through mine. "I would never have rejected you," I confess, looking into his eyes with only truth in my gaze. He stared for a moment, taking my words for what they promised.

"But we're friends," He argued, afraid we just ruined something that was already good, and I had known the feeling well for the past few years. But now I knew he felt the same way, and there were no longer any doubts I had about us being together.

"Did you only have feelings for me because you knew we were mates?" I tilt my head, taking another brave step forward.

"I uh— no, I liked you before," He stumbled over his sentence and a smile tugged at my lips at the effect I had on him when I got closer, my chest coming to press against his and he didn't move, we stand in the middle of the kitchen, not worried about the rest of the world around us.

"Good, we're even then," I nod.

"Even?" He arches a perfect brow.

"I liked you before, too," I confess and his eyes widen only a fraction, but it was a large reaction from the stoic Spymaster nonetheless.

"So, is it okay if I kiss you?" He asked quietly as if this was a forbidden act. Two mates kissing, so simple, yet held so much meaning.

"Yes Az, it's okay if you kiss me," I consent with a soft smile and he mirrors it, tentatively leaning in as he presses his lips to mine.

Something blooms in the pit of my stomach, something that's always been sprouting there but never had the nutrients to grow. Though, as he kissed me everything had felt so complete, like a puzzle piece I had been trying to solve for years slotting into place.

He pulls back and I think to follow him but instead, I allow the separation and look up at him with a bashful smile. His eyes are glazed over with something I haven't seen before, a mix of adoration and lust. He presses his lips to mine again, this time more confidently with little hesitation as he cups my jaw in one of his hands while the other wraps around my waist, pulling me into him.

"You feel The Frenzy now?" I whisper against his lips and he nods eagerly. "It's fucking, painful," He sighs, needing me closer, so much closer. "There's only one way to fix that, hm?" I taunt and his grin turns wolfish. "You're sure Princess?" He arches a brow and I now with a willing smirk. "Please," I hum, pecking up the side of his jaw.

With that, he swooped me up into his arms and practically winnowed us back to his bedroom, making me giggle in both delight and surprise as we landed hard on the bed I woke up in this morning.

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 days

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not so different

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt ‘graduation’

rated t | 994 words | cw: mention of past character death, mention of alcohol, language | tags: childhood friends, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, good uncle Wayne Munson

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington didn’t cry, not even when he fell off the slide at the playground and his knee bled for 15 minutes and his nanny had to call his mom.

But this was a special instance where he was allowed to be sad. His nanny even said so. He watched all the kids in his kindergarten class taking pictures with their moms and dads, uncles and aunts, grandpas and grandmas, and wondered why he didn’t have anyone here for him.

He found an empty classroom in the big kid hall as soon as the ceremony was done, sat behind the teacher’s desk, and cried into his knees.

“Did your daddy not show up either?” A voice asked from in front of him.

He lifted his head, vision blurry and face wet, to see Eddie.

Eddie had already done kindergarten once, but he had trouble with his phonics, so they kept him behind. He was the first kid to talk to Steve in class, but within a few days, Tommy and Carol and Heather had scared him away from Steve entirely.

“Um, no.”

“What about your mama?”

“She’s with my dad.”

“My mama is with God. Or that’s what a lot of people say. I dunno if she was friends with him or not, though. I think she just got buried in the ground and people are scared to tell me,” Eddie was sitting next to Steve now, his leg knocking against Steve’s.

Eddie didn’t sit still very well, and the teacher always said he had ants in his pants. Steve hoped he didn’t have them in there now; he didn’t want any ants on him.

“Where’s your dad?”

“He’s probably getting ‘rested again. He showed up being silly and my Uncle Wayne had to take him outside,” Eddie shrugged.

“Is he tired?” Steve asked, sniffling and leaning more against Eddie.

“No. Uncle Wayne says sometimes he has too much of the drinks in the bottles I’m not allowed to touch and it makes him act like he don’t got a brain,” Eddie didn’t sound that sad, but Steve still wanted to hug him. “So your daddy isn’t here?”

“No. I think he forgot.”

“Sorry he forgot. My Uncle Wayne never forgets. He even came to the lunch room for my birthday. He brought me a piece of pizza!” Eddie always sounded more excited than anyone else. Most of the kids in the class thought it was stupid, but Steve kind of liked the way his eyes got wide and his smile got so big it took up most of his face. “Maybe he can bring you a piece for your birthday next year.”

“He doesn’t even know me.”

“You can come meet him!”

The classroom door opened just as Eddie started to stand and reach for Steve’s hands to pull him up.

“There ya are, Ed! Been lookin’ everywhere. You want some ice cream?” An older man stood by the door, button up plaid shirt only half-tucked into his jeans.

“Can we bring Steve? He’s my friend.”

Steve’s head turned, shocked that Eddie would say that.

“We gotta ask his parents first, Ed.”

“His parents didn’t come.”

“Oh.” The man looked Steve up and down before seemingly settling on something. He gave a small smile and gestured for him to come closer. “What’s your favorite flavor, then?”

“I dunno. Never had anything except vanilla,” Steve admitted, afraid to look at the man who had to be Eddie’s Uncle Wayne.

“Well, that just won’t do, will it? Let’s go try every flavor at the diner. Benny just added a few new ones. Think there’s even a bubblegum one.”

Eddie clapped his hands and dragged Steve out the door by his arm.

“I bet you’ll like mint chip,” he said as Wayne followed behind them, fond smile on his face.

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington had only cried a few times in his life, but this was the second time it was happening in front of Eddie.

Eddie wasn’t conscious this time, though.

“If you wake up, I’ll take you to the diner and we can have ice cream. They’ve got a new raspberry white chocolate flavor that you’d like. I could use some mint chip right now,” Steve said around the tears.

Wayne had left the hospital an hour ago to freshen up and grab one of his crossword puzzle books. Steve had been crying for most of that hour, holding Eddie’s hand and quietly begging him to wake up.

Two days without hearing his voice or watching his smile light up the room was too long, especially after having it for the last 13 years.

“How’re you gonna walk at graduation if you’re still asleep here, huh?” Steve closed his eyes and wiped at his cheeks.

“You can walk with me.”

Steve’s head shot up at Eddie’s quiet, but surprisingly strong voice.

“Eddie!”

“Hey, Stevie. Heard you’re takin’ me for ice cream,” Eddie’s smile was crooked, the bandage on his cheek covering one of his dimples.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for Eddie being awake, being alive, being okay.

“Yeah, Eds. Every day if you want,” Steve wanted to crawl into the bed with him, hold him close and feel him breathing and listen to his heartbeat, be sure he was there.

“Gonna hold you to that.”

“Soon as you can leave, that’ll be our first stop. Promise.”

Eddie closed his eyes, but the smile remained on his face. “You slept?”

“A bit.”

“So no.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “A bit.”

“C’mere.”

“Honey, you’re hurt-“

“Come here.”

Steve got in bed slowly, making sure he kept space between himself and Eddie’s injuries.

“Think I’ll graduate?”

Steve snorted. “They’d be stupid to hold you back after you saved everyone.”

“Yeah. ‘M a hero. Fuck Hawkins High.”

Steve could feel more tears trickle down his cheeks, but these were different.

These were relieved tears, happy tears.

“Yeah, honey. Fuck them.”

“Love you, though.”

“Love you so much.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #graduation #childhood friends #friends to lovers #wayne munson #hurt/comfort

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ollyissleppy · 3 days

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𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 | venti, diluc x reader

summary: just boys confessing their love while being tipsy

pairing(s): venti x gn!reader, diluc x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: mentions of being drunk, drinking, alcohol, mentions of being pressured into drinking

tags: fluff, drinking, confessions, reader works in church (in venti's), reader is from fontaine (in diluc's), diluc is all blushy (just the way I like him 😇)

a/n: I don't remember the last time I wrote (and actually finished) something let alone post it :( anyways there's also one with Keaya but I didn't have the time to finish it and just wanted to post what I have so I won't have the time to change my mind

🅥🅔🅝🅣🅘

You stand at the back of the church, just casually chatting away with a few sisters, as you hear quick steps approaching where you are. You and your companions turn your heads to see who's in such a hurry, only to spot Barbara rushing her way towards you.

"(name)! Thank Barbados, I finally found you," the blonde says as she stops right in front of you. “Could you be so kind and help me get rid of this drunkard? He's laying under the statue, and no amount of threads can make him leave.”

“Sure, just show me where they are, and I’ll get rid of them for you.” You send a warm smile her way and follow her out of the church.

Once outside, you notice someone laying under Anemo Archon’s statue, attempting to play music on a lyre. Upon coming closer, you recognise the person who's causing Barbara to grow grey hair. You sigh, knowing now that not only Barbara's well-being but also potentially the identity of your beloved archon is at risk. After all, you don't want the drunk bard to expose himself as the Anemo Archon to the entire city.

“You’re playing the wrong cord, Venti,” you say as you approach the bard.

“HOW DARE YOU EVEN—oh, it’s you, (name)! I was waiting till you came out of this stupid building." Venti throws himself at you, his arms tightly wrapping around your neck. "I wanted to come inside and hang out with you, but she refused to let me in," he pouts while trying to give you the puppy eyes.

You ignored his words and just opted to try making him stand on his own. Your attempt was unsuccessful; the moment you let go of him, he started to fall over. Holding him up by his waist, you turn to Barbara:

“Thank you for bringing me here, Barbara. You’re free to return to your duties, I got this from here.” After making sure you had a tight grip around Venti, you started making your way out of the city. You hope to brig him to the closest Archon statue to hopefully sober him up.

“You know, I thought alcohol no longer had an effect on you.” You couldn't help but ask a question as your mind was working overtime to figure out what could bring the bard to such a state.

“Keaya brought some special wine from Sumeru, and we both shared a bottle,” Venti replies, sounding as if he's about to fall asleep.

“Wow, now I feel sorry for Master Diluc. I can’t imagine having to deal with the both of you in such a state.” You shake the bard, making sure he stays awake at least till you both reach the statue.

As you finally crossed the bridge just outside the city, you quickly apologised to Timmy for scaring away his pigeons and continued your journey until you reached Venti's statue. You lay him down under the stone version of himself and hope your theory about sobering him up is correct. You sit down beside him, your back against some roots, waiting for a change in the bard's position.

When some time passes and you start to wonder if you should just leave him there, he finally sits up. You look at him curiously, waiting for the bard to say something. Venti remains silent, just staring back at you. Another moment passes until he finally speaks up:

"You're really here. For a moment, I thought you were just a dream. "You can still smell the alcohol as he speaks. "(name), can I tell you something?"

You look at him confused, wondering if it is another one of his 'I'm an archon type of secret'. He looks at you as if he's collecting his thoughts, so you allow your mind and gaze to wander off.

“I am in love with you.” Your head snaps right back at Venti, unsure if your mind isn't playing games with you.

"What?" you ask, scolding your mind for even suggesting the bard said something like this.

"I'm in love with you, (name)." Venti shifts his body to be closer to you, almost as if trying to kiss you, his gaze still fixated on you.

“Venti, you’re drunk.” You try to move your body away from his, causing your back to bruise itself against the roots. You found your archon's feelings highly inappropriate.

He sighs and moves his body back to its original place, his gaze finally leaving yours. You relax, finally feeling free from the awkward situation. You realise that Venti's eyes seem to be focused on something, so you follow them to see what he's looking at. Off in the distance, you see two hilichurls dancing and seemingly enjoying each other's company. Both you and your companion watch the two of them in somewhat comfortable silence. You're not sure how much time passes until Venti speaks up again.

“You don’t have to answer; it’s ok. It must be so confusing for you," he sighs, his eyes now looking up to the sky. "You devoted your entire life to an archon just for me to destroy your image of said archon and now selfishly confess my undying love for you.”

You stare at him, unsure of what you should do. The bard was right; you were confused out of your mind. You look down at the ground, trying to collect your thoughts. The silence once again falls between you two, only this time it's more awkward than anything. After what felt like ages, you hear Venti move his body. You don't look up, still being within your own thoughts. The archon sees that and just gently cups your face with his hand, forcing you to look at him. Venti slowly moves his face closer to yours, his breath tickling you.

“But no legends say I'm not a selfish archon”

🅓🅘🅛🅤🅒

Diluc brought you to Fontaine in hopes you'll help him win it's people over and expand his wine empire in that direction as well. So here you are, catching up with some of your friends that you haven't seen since you left Fontaine. Learning all about their new lives, now without you. It didn't sadden you much, as moving away to another nation gave you opportunities you never knew were possible. You're so caught up in the conversation that you don't notice a person coming up behind you, let alone the arm that's making its way around your shoulders. The unexpected movement caused you to jump, only to calm down once you noticed the culprit.

“Diluc, are you alright?" You ask worried, not remembering if you ever saw your friend with his face being almost the colour of his hair.

"Yeah, I'm just tired." Diluc moves his body so he can rest his head on your shoulders. His moves catch you slightly off guard, as they're not something his usual self would do.

"Oh, look at the time,” you say, looking at your watch. "We really should all return to our houses; I'd hate for the staff to work overtime to clean up after us." Most of the people who were at the gathering agreed with you. Some people, however, weren't keen on leaving just yet, as they didn't get to discuss the legal matters of their agreements.

“Don’t worry, everyone; I'm sure Master Diluc will be ready to discuss further regarding the contracts tomorrow,” you say to comfort the worried bunch, hoping it'll be enough.

“Perhaps lunch time? Maybe at Cafe Lutece?” one of the men in the crowd replies, with a bunch of others agreeing.

“Great, we’ll be there!” You smile, happy to get them all off Diluc's back.

You sat Diluc down on one of the chairs and patiently waited for all of the guests to leave. You were so preoccupied by them that you didn't notice your friend started to drift off into sweet slumber. Once you do notice, you make sure to shake him awake to make it easier to bring him to your hotel rooms. You help Diluc stand up from the chair, and you start taking him upstairs, where your rooms are located.

While making your way up the stairs, you decided to question what happened to make Diluc try his luck at drinking.

'How can we know it’s good quality wine if the person responsible for making it won’t drink it?' was apparently something Diluc heard from one of the potential clients while he was trying to get them on his side. You felt kind of bad for Diluc, as you are aware that he's not fond of drinking, and tonight he was pressured into doing so.

After what felt like a fight between you and the stairs, you two finally made it to Diluc's room. You close the door behind you and turn around to see Diluc struggling to get out of his coat. You chuckle at his sudden cuteness as you walk up to lend him some help. After a bit of struggle, you managed to get him out of the piece of clothing, settling it on one of the chairs in the room. You decided to skip trying to change the rest of his clothes, and you just laid Diluc down on the bed. You made sure to securely wrap him up in the blanket, and you started to take your leave.

“Wait, don’t leave yet.” You stop in your tracks. You weren't expecting to hear his voice; you were almost certain that he was already out cold. “I hate seeing you leave.” You turn to look at him, thinking about your options.

You decided to stay with him a bit longer, at least until he actually fell asleep. You sit down on the other side of the bed, thinking about what you should say to make him fall asleep.

"See? I'm not going anywhere, Diluc. You can rest now." You fix the blanket around his chest. The room falls into a comfortable silence.

Your thoughts start to slowly drift away as the day finally catches up to you, making you wish you were in bed as well. You're so deep inside your head that you don't notice Diluc staring directly at you.

“Lay down with me.” His low voice startled you, snapping you back to reality. You take a minute to gather your thoughts to figure out the best response.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate,” you said, hoping your answer would make him drop it.

“Who cares? It’s just the two of us,” he argues, and you have to admit that he has a point. Besides, it won't hurt to lay with him just for a bit—until he falls asleep, that is.

You sigh, defeated, and opt to lay down on top of the covers. That way, you had a way of getting out of his room and to your own when Diluc's no longer focused on you so much. As you move to your side, you notice Diluc visibly relaxing, even letting out a yawn. He looked like he would fall asleep any minute now, so you close your eyes, hoping it'll fool him that you're asleep as well. You are finally letting yourself relax.

“I love you,” Diluc's voice was low and barely hearable. If the room wasn't dead silent, you probably wouldn't be able to hear it.

You don't respond, deciding that it must be just his tired and drunk brain talking. You keep your eyes closed just in case, still hoping to trick him into thinking that you're asleep.

“You hear? I’m in love with you, (name)." Diluc moves his body closer to yours, as if trying to make sure you're able to hear him.

You lay still, trying to ingest his alcohol-reeking breath. Diluc sighs, moving even closer to you, just to throw his arm across your body, trapping you in bed with him.

"I wish I wasn't such a coward and told you this when I'm sober and your conscious."

⊱⋅ ──────────── ⋅⊰

#diluc x reader #diluc x gender neutral reader #diluc fluff #diluc fic #gender neutral reader #venti x reader #venti x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff

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yanderecrazysie · 19 hours

Text

Twisted Zoo: Chapter 10

Surprise! Sorry for the lack of Jack content in this one.

I feel like this sucks but at least I wrote something ;-;

Prologue: here

Previous Chapter: here

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @vash-yuu @twstsandturns @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 @silkkorchid @the-ace-reader @pamv11 @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @hrhqueenfox @goseew @luxthestrange @juno-of-wonderland @who-mst @despairingy-obsessed @lanxianschoenheit @ceramic-raven @m0063576 @kimdourden @rammylog @sushiperson @starshiningsirius @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @the-monochrome-jester @owodi @girl-nahh-two @obeythehuman @berry-efoy @ivorette @the-broken-truth @losingmybrain @sxftiebee @queens-unheard-thoughts @medicine-san @strugglingsleeper and @rocketstyx wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (I have removed the tags that weren’t working for me, apologies if yours was removed!)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you.

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

NOTE 2: I decided to make this a little fluffy before shit goes down.

—-------------------------------------------------------

It was your turn to feed the halflings dinner again. The hyenas, lions, and wolves all were going to be given the same food: hamburgers. Each was individually wrapped, and there must have been a hundred of them between the two giant buckets you were forced to carry.

Surely that’s way too much for even all three groups combined! You groaned as you lifted the buckets. Your arms were definitely going to get a workout from this.

You trudged into the savannah, your arms already aching from the heavy load you were forced to carry. Thankfully, the hyenas were gathered on the rocks not far from the entrance.

Ruggie’s eyes lit up as soon as they saw you, letting out a bark of excitement as he leapt down from the rock he had been sitting on with the grace of a cat. He stopped a few feet away from you, as though he were waiting for a signal from you.

You placed the buckets on the ground and lifted your hands in a calming gesture, “You know I’m not going to hurt you, Ruggie. I’ve just brought food for you all.”

Ruggie grinned and bounded forward, taking you by surprise as he pulled you into a hug, rubbing his cheek against your own. He pulled away, a sly grin on his face as he stole a burger from the left bucket and slipped away, climbing onto a large rock and unwrapping the food.

You felt a little flustered by the sudden show of affection but, with a shake of your head, you dismissed his odd behavior. Yet, Ruggie’s eyes never left your figure, his tail wagging back and forth as though he was thrilled to be able to see you.

When he came for his second helping, he reached out a hand and slid it beneath your chin. He drew his face closer until you could feel his hot breath playing across your lips. For a moment, you thought he was about to kiss you, but he spoke up instead, stumbling a little over his words, “You are special to me.”

“I am?” you were taken aback by his sudden confession.

“Yes,” Ruggie said with a wide smile, “You’re my favorite!”

“Favorite what? Researcher? Aren’t I the only researcher you know?”

Nishishishi. Ruggie giggled at your confusion, “Favorite. (Y/n) is my favorite.”

Completely nonplussed now, you gave him an awkward smile, “You’re a strange one, Ruggie.”

His smile morphed into a pout, “Am I favorite?”

You reached out a hand and messed up his fluffy blond hair, “You’re my favorite Ruggie in the whole world.”

He gave you an annoyed look, his hyena ears flat on his head. It was clear he was hoping you’d be a little less specific. But you couldn’t tell him something like “you’re my favorite hyena”, as that wouldn’t be fair to the other halflings.

You took a seat on the rock as the other hyenas came for their second helpings, skirting around you with nervous looks. Ruggie practically threw himself onto your lap, his stomach back landing on your legs as he gazed up at you. You almost shivered when you saw his expression.

His gaze was hungry, eyes dark and lips pulled into a sinister smile. He lifted a hand and cupped your cheek. He whispered something and, though it was too quiet to tell, it sounded suspiciously like he had said “mine”.

Then, his eyes fluttered closed, his hand flopped to his side, and his breathing turned even. It took you a moment to realize he had fallen asleep. You were a bit jealous that he could fall asleep so quickly and easily (it took you much longer to settle down at night).

Some of the hyenas came for a third helping, but once all of them had deposited their wrappers in a pile near the buckets, you realized you had to move on. “Ruggie, time to wakey wakey,” you teased.

Ruggie’s eyes fluttered open and his peaceful expression became cross. His hyena ears flattened themselves against his head again and his tail lashed once, but he obediently stood up, freeing your lap so you could stand as well.

You took the wrappers to a trash can near the entrance of the enclosure and returned to the buckets. Ruggie watched you from on top of a rock, eyes sad as he watched you walk away. You felt a little bad, but you had to move on. You couldn’t just spend the entire evening with the hyenas when you had to see the lions and wolves too.

The buckets were still heavy and you felt your arms ache as you took the long walk over to the lion halflings. As you approached, Leona sat up on the rock he was lounging on. You put down the buckets and waved at him.

He leapt down from the rock gracefully and walked towards you. When he was just a few feet away, he stopped dead in his tracks and his nose screwed up in disgust, “You smell like hyena. You let one of those bone-eaters scent you?”

“Huh?” you were confused for a moment before you remembered the way Ruggie rubbed his cheek against yours and lounged across your lap. Was he scenting you then?

“Disgusting,” Leona snapped, reaching out and snatching your wrist, “You should smell like lion.” His face drew closer and you snapped out of your surprise and confusion, pulling your wrist out of his grasp and taking a step back.

“You shouldn’t be surprised I smell like hyenas, considering you aren’t the only halflings I care for,” you snapped, “That doesn’t give you permission to scent me too!”

Leona let out a growl deep in his throat and you involuntarily took another step back. His eyes narrowed, as though he was deep in thought. Then, a somewhat sinister smile spread across his face, “Of course, you’re right.” Somehow, his tone seemed condescending, as though you were too stupid to understand him, “I’ll have a talk with the hyenas, and no one will scent you again.”

A shiver ran up your spine, “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh but I do,” Leona growled, “Now, you brought us food, I believe? Or are you going to stand there gaping like a fish?”

You closed your mouth and pursed your lips into a deep frown. Leona was really getting on your nerves, “Yeah, I did. Feel free to grab something, your highness.”

Leona didn’t seem offended by your dig, if anything, a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. He grabbed a wrapped burger from the bucket closest to him and leaned in as close as he could while doing so.

The other lions followed his example, grabbing burgers and eating them under the tall rock that Leona had resumed lounging on. The king of the jungle gazed at you with darkened eyes and you were surprised to read the jealousy on his features. Was the great Leona really jealous of some hyenas?

You tried to shake the ridiculous idea from your mind, but you just couldn’t believe otherwise when you looked at his expression. You didn’t like the way he gazed across the savannah at the group of hyenas with a sneer on his lips.

“Leona,” you called up to him. He turned his furious gaze on you, eyes burning, and you shut your mouth, the words dying on your tongue, “Never mind.” You picked up the buckets and turned around. You heard a light thump as Leona jumped down from the rock again.

Arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close to a toned chest. You grabbed his wrists and tried to wrench them from your body but Leona didn’t budge. “Let me go,” you demanded firmly.

The lion halfling placed his chin on your shoulder and let out a sigh, “Why do you tempt me so?”

You furrowed your brow, “That sounds like a ‘you problem’. Now let go.”

Leona obeyed with a chuckle, his arms disappearing from your waist, “You’re entertaining, you know that?”

You refused to look back, angry that he had put his hands on you, and simply walked away. You didn’t breathe again until the enclosure door shut behind you. You leaned against the wall and slid to the ground, entirely nonplussed by what had gone on between you and the lion halfling.

You took a moment to process the encounter, then stood up with a sigh. You hoped all of the lions’ bellies had been filled with only one burger, since you hadn’t stuck around long. You checked your watch and were happy to see that it was still fairly early. That way, it wouldn’t be too dark out when you brought the burgers to the wolves.

You hurried down the pathway to the wolf enclosure, looking off in the distance where the sun was beginning to turn the sky pink and orange. Maybe if you hurried, the wolves wouldn’t all want to kill you.

Unfortunately, as you entered the enclosure, the only wolf you were met with was Jack. That wasn’t to say you weren’t happy to see him, especially as he gave you the most endearing smile ever.

“Is there any way to feed the other wolves without getting my skin torn off?” you asked him.

Jack shook his head and your heart sank. He seemed to notice your disappointment because he spoke up, “But you have me.”

“I know, Jack,” you sighed, “But I want to get to know the other wolves too.”

Jack’s smile disappeared and his eyes narrowed a little, “But you have me. I protect you.”

“I appreciate that, I really do,” you said in a soothing voice, “But I need to interact with all of the halflings, not just you.”

Jack’s expression darkened, his shoulders hunching over, “They’re dangerous. They hurt you. I can’t let anything happen to you,” his voice grew tight with emotion, and he looked down at you with such a lost expression that your heart twisted.

“Maybe if you help me, they will grow to like me,” you suggested. Jack shook his head and grabbed the buckets off the ground. Before you could protest, he disappeared into the forest.

You tried to follow, but he had completely left you behind. Soon enough, you were lost in the trees, looking this way and that, before Jack returned to you with empty buckets.

“They have eaten,” he said gruffly.

You sighed, “Thanks…” Jack didn’t seem to understand your disappointment, as he merely took your hand in his larger one and led you back to the enclosure exit. He smiled gently at you and said in a soft voice, “Safe.”

You couldn’t really argue with that.

Ruggie and Leona watched in amusement as the zoo staff brought out the body bags from the wolf enclosure across the path from them. “She’s becoming quite popular,” Leona murmured, “Enough for a wolf to turn against his own pack.”

Ruggie pouted, “I want her to be mine. Not anyone else’s.”

Leona chuckled darkly, “You’ll have to put those thoughts aside if you really want to take our deal. You know that a war against lions who obey only me and hyenas that will run away with their tails between their legs will end in only one way.”

Ruggie’s ears flattened against his head, “I’ll share, but only with you. Three’s a crowd.”

The lion nodded, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland

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vodika-vibes · 3 days

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hiiii! i would like to send in a request for your follower event please!!! i was thinking of a monster/ghost au where the reader (i’ll leave gender up to you i’m not picky lol) was a medic for the 501st and was dating echo but died. so the reader is now a ghost haunting echo after he joins the bad batch!! i’m not sure if i want echo (or even the bad batch + omega) to be able to see the reader so i’ll leave that up to you as well if that’s okay? it’ll be like a surprise!! but i do want this to have a happy ending if possible please!!

Oh Traveler Come

Summary: You’ve always been a practical person. Realistic. So when you’re killed in an attack on the Resolute you’re legitimately surprised to find yourself sticking around after death. It’s not the way your world is supposed to work. But, when you find yourself bound to Echo, Echo who you were dating before he died, you start to think that maybe there’s a reason for it.

Pairing: TBB Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1542

Warnings: Some angst

Prompt: Ghost/Monster AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I wasn't sure, at first, how I was going to write this one, but I think I kind of like the idea that I came up with. Thanks for your request!

“What a hell hole,” You scrunch up your nose as you trail after Echo into the barracks of his new squad, “Honestly Echo,” You say to your boyfriend, former boyfriend, who you know can’t hear you, “You should bully them into cleaning more. This is a crime against me.”

Echo doesn’t respond. Of course he doesn’t. He can’t see you, though sometimes it feels like he can hear you.

Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on your part.

You’re a ghost. You died in an attack on the Resolute. Well, to be more precise, you were killed by Ventress. At least, you’re pretty sure that’s what happened.

To be fair to yourself, you don’t actually remember dying.

But you’re a ghost, so you must have died. It’s the only logical conclusion.

For a time, you were attached to Fives, and then he died (and oh, isn’t that just infuriating? You know everything that Fives learned, but you can’t tell anyone-) and then you found yourself hovering over Echo.

You suppose it makes an odd sort of sense. You’ve always been closer to the domino twins than anyone else on the ship…well, outside of Kix. Although, you’re not disappointed that you’re not stuck haunting Kix.

Absently, you roll in the air so that you’re lounging on your back, you tuck your arms under your head and cross your legs. Being a ghost is weird. You can only travel so far away from Echo before you’re snapped back to his side, floating through walls still feels…weird. And you constantly feel like you’re spying on the boys.

Also, you don’t need to sleep anymore.

You shift when you hear a thunk, and you make a face when you see Hunter stripping his armor off. Time to make yourself scarce, just because they don’t know that they’re being haunted doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t allow them some privacy.

Sure, if you’ve seen one naked clone, you’ve seen them all. But still.

The only person you have any interest in seeing naked is Echo…and even then, not when he’s not aware that you’re watching.

You allow yourself to drift through the wall, and then sit up and cross your legs, lazily allowing your gaze to drift over the men walking through the hall.

What a lonely existence you’ve been cursed with.

Your hands find no purchase. Your gestures catch no eyes. And your pleas, whether they be whispered or screamed, reach not a single ear.

What horrific crime must you have committed to be cursed with this? It must have been truly awful-

“Hello?”

There’s no other explanation-

“Helloooo?”

This has to be a punishment-

“How are you floating?”

Wait, what?

Your gaze snaps to right in front of you. There’s a small child, a little blonde girl, standing in front of you, looking up at you through wide brown eyes. “...you can see me?”

“Yes, of course I can.”

“Gods,” You drop from the air until your kneeling in front of her, “How long has it been-”

She reaches out and presses her hands against your cheeks, and you’re surprised that she can touch you, “You’re cold.” The little girl says with a small frown, “Like touching ice.”

“I’m a ghost, little one.” You say through a choked laugh, “I have been for what feels like ages.”

“My name is Omega.” She says with a bright smile, “What’s your name?”

You blink the tears out of your eyes, as you introduce yourself.

“Would you like to come to my room with me? You must be so lonely.”

“I wish I could, but I’m bound to Echo.” You jab your thumb towards the door.

Omega looks from you, to the door, and then back to you. “He can’t see you?”

“Nope.”

“Or hear you?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s so sad!” Omega looks like she’s about to cry for a moment, and you flounder, unsure how to fix this, if this can be fixed. And then a look of determination crosses her face, “I’m going to help.”

“Are you?” You ask, bemused.

Omega steps around you and knocks on the door, loudly.

“They’re not going to believe you, kid.” You note as you take to the air again, folding your legs once more.

“I’ll make them.” Omega replies just before the door opens. Crosshair looks out the door, looking right through you, and then he glances down at Omega.

“...what?”

Omega lifts her chin, “I’m looking for Echo.”

Crosshair raises both of his brows, and then he turns to the side, “Echo, there’s a kid-hey!” He stares at Omega as she pushes into the room, and you, laughing quietly, trail after her.

“Um…which one is Echo?” Omega asks you, seemingly uncaring for the bemused, and bewildered, looks that were being aimed at her.

“The one with the prosthetics.” You say, amused, “They’re going to think you’re crazy, Omega.”

She frowns at you, and then turns to look at Echo, “But I’m not.”

“I know that, you know that. But ghosts aren’t supposed to be real, kid.”

“Then tell me something that will make them believe me.” Omega counters.

“Uh…kid? Who are you talking to?” Hunter asks slowly.

Omega says your name and you watch as Echo jerks, and something pained crosses his face. “She’s dead, you can’t be talking to her.” He says bluntly, and you’d almost believe that he didn’t care based on his tone, but there’s something so heartbroken on his face that your heart lurches painfully.

Omega stares at him for a moment, and then she points at you, “She’s right there. She says that she’s been following you for a while.”

Echo glances at you, or, well, at the spot where Omega says that you are, and the look of pain on his face only becomes more pronounced, “That’s…cruel, kid.”

“No, I-” Omega turns her gaze to you, “Help?”

You hesitate, and then you float over to Echo and lightly reach out, as if to touch him, though you stop before you actually manage it. “Tell him…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break my promise.”

Omega dutifully gives him your message, and Echo jerks in surprise.

“She’s…actually here?”

“Right in front of you. She’s crying.”

You laugh through your tears, “Don’t tell him that-”

“Sorry.” Omega says sheepishly, “She didn’t want me to tell you that.”

“Why can’t I see her? Or feel her?”

“I don’t think anyone can.” Omega says thoughtfully, “She said that I’m the first person to see her since she died.”

For a moment, Echo looks wrecked. But then, he knows better than anyone how much you hate being alone.

You pull away from Echo, and return to Omega’s side, kneeling so that you’re closer to eye level with her, “Omega. I need you to pass on a message, exactly as I say it. Can you do that?”

She turns to look at you, “I can do that.”

“Good. Good girl.” You breathe out, and then you start speaking.

You tell Echo, though Omega, about Fives. About what he learned, about what got him killed. Omega is shaking by the time you finish talking, horror and fear on her face.

“We need proof,” Echo says quietly, “Cyare, please tell me you have proof.”

Omega, her hands shaking, gives him your answer, “She says that the proof is in your heads.”

“Then we need to do something about this.” Hunter says, “Omega, can you be the go between for us and the ghost doctor?”

“Ghost doctor?” You repeat under your breath.

“You…believe me?” Omega asks, her eyes wide.

“It does explain why Echo always smells a little bit like ozone.” Hunter says with a shrug, “Come on, let’s get to the bottom of this.”

Half an hour later, Echo is hacking into a computer terminal when he stumbles on a file with your name on it. The file is a very detailed description of the attack on the Resolute, the attack that you thought killed you.

Turns out, Ventress didn’t kill you.

She used an ancient force ability to separate your soul from your body. According to the notes, you were meant to be bound to Ventress, as a weapon to be used against the Republic, only instead of being bound to Ventress, you ended up bound to Fives, and then Echo.

Your body is located on a small asteroid in wild space, kept in a deep coma to keep your soul wandering. Tech quickly makes note of the location, and then they go back to work at dealing with the chips.

A single line of code added to the chips software by Tech, as well as a forced update to thc chips, meant that Order 66 could never be activated by anyone. And if someone managed it, the new order was to protect all jedi, rather than kill them.

It would give the Jedi time enough to survive, if nothing else.

Then the Batch flees Kamino, with Omega. Intent on going to claim their doctor’s body, and then head to the Jedi temple in the hopes that they’ll be able to put you back in your body.

You and Echo will get your happy ending, you just have to fight for it.

And, really, isn’t that the case with all happy endings?

#star wars #tbb #star wars au #vodika vibes 650 event #tbb echo x reader #echo x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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profoundbondfanfic · 17 hours

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Hi there!

I have been looking in vain for fics with Non-verbal Dean or Castiel. I've read a couple but haven't been able to find anymore and the tagging system only seems to give me junk results not actually related to that.

Thank in advance for your help!

Hey! Here are a few fics we could think of:

All Cats Are Gray After Dark by squirrelofcelestialintent (Explicit, 19k words)

1992, NYC. Dean is a Gulf War veteran working in the grimiest ER in the city, and he’s holding his life together. Kind of? Maybe. But he’s got secrets. No one at work knows that he’s not physically mute due to a war injury, but rather selectively mute from way back in the day, because that is almost impossible to explain. Nobody but Sam knows he’s a rare, male Omega, and the discovery of that secret was why he got kicked out of the army. And nobody, absolutely nobody, knows that he occasionally sneaks out to have anonymous sex with men. Until he meets Castiel freaking Novack - anonymous hook up turned new boss - who in less than a month manages to find out all three.

Casicorn by everandanon (Explicit, 56k words)

When Detective Dean Winchester suddenly finds himself with a new roommate, a mysterious man who doesn’t speak but seems to somehow be connected to the department’s recent vigilante problem, he has no idea what he’s in for. The guy doesn’t know how to work a TV, brush his teeth, or even take a shower, and he stares at Dean all the goddamn time. Not to mention he insists on sleeping in Dean’s bed. While Dean is in it! Weird, right? Except the longer Cas sticks around, the less Dean starts to mind; the more he kind of dreads Cas leaving for good, actually, even though nobody really knows who Cas is or where he came from. And then, one night, Dean happens to witness their vigilante firsthand and realizes he knows Cas even less than he thought . . . (Loosely inspired by The Little Mermaid)

Finding You In Every Sign by casblackfeathers (Explicit, 99k words)

Castiel was content with the constant flow of his life. He had his brother Gabriel, had his coffee shop and the weekly book club meetings as well as a small but solid group of friends. If there was one thing his hateful family had taught him, it was how fast things could go wrong if he let too many variables shape his life. So when he met Dean, a gradual regular at his shop, Castiel knew he was trouble, because Dean was like a comet, beautiful but beyond reach. Ever since his father died, there wasn’t a single constant in Dean’s life. Moving on, never stopping, never getting attached to one thing for too long had made him a drifter for the past seven years. Being the only hearing person in his family hadn’t been easy with a father like John Winchester, so as soon as Dean saw an escape, he took it. Settling down to open his flower shop was anything but easy, especially when he met the elusive deaf owner of the coffee shop next door. The more he discovered about Cas, the louder the voice in the back of his head whispered that maybe Castiel was the person finally worth staying for. And maybe, just maybe, Dean was willing to listen now.

Hear You Me by through_shadows_falling (Explicit, 84k words)

Castiel is a college graduate stuck in two dead-end, part-time jobs. Oh, and he’s Deaf…which to his oldest brother Michael makes him something to constantly fret over. It’s not Castiel’s fault that he doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life, right? Not like it’s Michael’s business anyways. Enter Dean Winchester. A chance encounter with the man has the power to change Castiel’s life - and in the end, maybe, just maybe, it will help him finally understand and accept who he is and what he’s meant to do.

i saw the light by LoversAntiquities (Mature, 14k words)

“Sam, you gotta hear about this ghost story I found the other day,” Susanne says over the speakerphone, just as loud as she has been for the last half hour. For the most part, Castiel ignores her—or tries—and concentrates on the beads dangling from between his fingers, centerpiece pressed to his forehead. Praying doesn’t work, but some mornings, when the coffee doesn’t get him going and the walls feel more like a prison than a home, he sits at the library table and whispers empty words into the crucifix, like Jesus can ease the festering ache in his chest. He can’t—no one else can either.

late july by thanks_tacos (Explicit, 26k words)

'I would like to take in your most abused one,' Castiel says, looking at the rows of doors in the yellow corridor. 'Give him a good home.' After his accident, Castiel needs someone to help him around the small brick house he lives in and the bookstore he owns. So, he adopts Dean; an omega who barely survived being dumped in a ditch and left for dead. Dean doesn't talk, but that's fine; they learn to live together in the quaint, rainy city surrounded by a green forest. Castiel just wants to give Dean a peaceful life he deserves, and maybe also - become his mate?

Looking for a Sign by emwebb17 (Mature, 70k words)

Dean can't figure out why the hot guy on the train is ignoring him…that is until he realizes that the man is profoundly deaf. After an unpleasant misunderstanding, the two become friends. It isn't long before Dean wants more, but Castiel sticks steadfastly to his rule about not dating hearing people. When Dean starts to date other people to try to get over him, Castiel starts to wonder if maybe Dean is the exception to the rule.

No Words by Ltleflrt (Explicit, 112k words)

On the run from his very powerful family, Castiel does his best to get lost. Because if he doesn’t know where he is, his brothers won’t be able to find him very easily either. He ends up in Silverton, a small mountain town nestled deep within the Rocky Mountains where he meets Dean Winchester, a very beautiful and very grumpy omega.

sunflower by unicornpoe (Teen and up, 4k)

Castiel comes home on a Sunday.

Still Waters Run Deep by thisisapaige (Explicit, 41k words)

In the darkest depths of the ocean, sealed into the ma'lak box with Chuck trapped behind the Mark, Castiel loses the battle against God's rage. When Sam and Dean find Castiel on a dark patch of highway— the Mark missing and his grace weak— he cannot speak. It rains. It rains and it rains and it rains. It is a Great Flood. In order to stop God, save the world, and resolve the issues simmering between them for years, Castiel and Dean need to communicate. Perhaps they should build an ark instead.

The Hanged Man by orphan_account (Mature, 87k words)

After Park Ranger Cas Novak saves a mysterious stranger named Dean from an attempted murder in the woods, he finds himself drawn into the man's secretive life. Someone tried to kill Dean, but he's not telling who. In fact, he's barely speaking at all. If he's going to have any hope of helping Dean, Cas will have to convince the man to trust him — all while trying not to fall in love with him along the way.

We also have a mute tag with more fics like these. Also if you search for 'selectively mute dean' or 'mute dean' (or cas if you prefer cas) on ao3 you might get lucky as well.

#asks #group rec #mute #deaf

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orion-tyche · 2 days

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The Harbinger

Summary: Ventress’ return to the screen was iconic, but what if it didn’t happen? What if…someone else came to tell the Batch about Midichlorians? And that someone just happens to be Darth Maul? A different story begins to play out, as this time our visitor has dangerous ulterior motives.

Word count: 1706

Notes: Based on this post by @third-generation-female-warrior ! This may be one of my favorite ideas ever and it was so fun to write! Hope you enjoy.

Tag list: @traveller-of-word-and-screen

Omega walked along the Pabu beach, Batcher right next to her. It had been a very peaceful day so far. It was good to be back on Pabu, to be back home. Omega and Batcher walked in the sand, the cool morning air of the sea breezing by them. The skies were becoming grayer day by day. Omega hoped that didn’t mean another sea surge, or anything bad for that matter.

Omega was near a rocky part of the beach when Batcher began barking. The lurca hound then ran off towards the cavern up ahead.

“Batcher, wait!” Omega called after the blue hound. She quickly ran after her. She came to the cavern and saw Batcher standing just outside of it, barking at whatever was inside.

“Batcher relax,” Omega said, patting the hound’s head. “It’s just the cavern. We’ve been in there plenty of times before.” Batcher whined and ran around Omega, clearly nervous. Omega sighed and turned on her flashlight.

“Okay, okay. I’ll check it out.” She grumbled. She loved the hound, but sometimes she really got on her nerves. She walked inside and immediately noticed something new. Something strange. A large ship had landed inside the cavern, and it just barely fit inside. Omega hadn’t seen this kind of ship before. It had a round body, and large wings that looked like they could spin while flying. Omega’s flashlight illuminated the black and red colors of the ship. She reached up and touched one of the ship’s large wings.

“Where did that come from?” Omega wondered aloud. She heard Batcher barking again and turned around. Batcher was still at the entrance to the cave. Suddenly, the hound backed up and ran away from the cavern.

“Batcher! Where are you going?” Omega called. Omega suddenly felt a presence behind her. And it was not a good one. She turned around and saw a man in black robes, with a red and black face with all kinds of markings. He had horns on his head that formed a sort of crown.

“Ah, hello.” He said. His voice was eerie. Omega didn’t like this. She began backing away from him, trying to get out of the situation. She hoped Batcher ran off to get her brothers.

“…who are you?” Omega asked, still trying to back away. The man swiftly walked around her, forcing her path to now go back towards the ship, away from the cavern’s entrance.

“Well, Fennec sent me. She said you needed…help. Something about Midichlorians?” He said. Omega was still very wary of him. “Come along, there is no need to be so anxious.” He said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Would you like my help, or not?” Omega stopped backing up. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself, like she’d seen Gungi do in meditation. She faced the man once again, feeling a little less nervous but still on guard.

“First, tell me who you are. And how you got here.” She said, folding her arms. The man smirked and nodded.

“Yes, yes, of course. One cannot skip the pleasantries. You may call me Darth Maul. As for your location, you needn’t be worried that Fennec ratted you out. I found you myself. Now, why do you want to know about Midichlorians? It’s quite reckless to inquire about such things.” He said, clasping his hands behind his back. Omega paused for a moment, then answered as best she could. She couldn’t tell him the truth, she didn’t trust him just yet.

“It’s…for a friend. The Empire’s after her, and…she’s worried it’s because of the M-count thing.” She said. Maul looked unimpressed by her lie, but played along anyways.

“I see. Well, Midichlorians are something in the blood. Everyone has them, but…at varying levels. It is believed that the more you have, the more able you are to wield the force. Jedi…and Sith were known for having higher counts.”

“You’re saying I’m a Jedi?! I mean..” Omega blurted out. She did not mean to say that out loud. Now he knew for sure she’d been lying before. Omega watched him nervously as he laughed softly and smirked.

“Well, not quite. You would need…training to be a Jedi. However, that can be easily arranged. So, child, are you sure that you have a…high Midichlorian count?” Maul asked softly. Omega could tell he was trying to gain her trust by being less intimidating. She decided this was the only lead she had, and curiosity got the better of her.

“I’m not sure. Like I said…the Empire’s after me. I think it’s because of M-count. I can’t be sure though.” Omega said. Maul placed a hand on her shoulder, and Omega got a very uneasy feeling.

“Well, then you have come to the right person. I…can test you for any signs of a high M-count. It shouldn’t take long. I know a planet where we can go that has the necessary equipment. A ruined place, but plenty of old Jedi equipment was left there. I know their ways, and I am sure that—“ Maul was cut off by the sound of blasters clicking. Omega looked past him to see Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair with their blasters up and pointed at Maul. Batcher was beside them, growling.

“Step away from her.” Hunter said firmly. Mail took his hand off Omega’s shoulder and turned around to face them, hands behind his back once again. He took a step away from her. Omega warily moved away from him and over to her brothers.

“Who’re you?” Wrecker asked. Maul stepped out of the shadows of the cavern, fully illuminated by the midday light peeking through the clouds.

“I am Darth Maul, as the child already knows. Fennec sent me to help with your…questions.” He said, examining the group with care. “The child has explained. I can help, but I will need to take the child off world to test her—“

“Not happening.” Hunter said, tightening his grip on the blaster. Maul grumbled and took a step closer to the group.

“Listen carefully. That child is in danger. The Empire is hunting you because of a high Midichlorian count. I can…protect the child. I have been looking for a new apprentice for a very long time, and I—“

“I’m not going with you.” Omega spoke up. Crosshair handed her the electric crossbow from behind his back. Omega knew what this was coming to.

“That…that is unfortunate,” Maul spoke softly, then reached for something at his side. “For you.” He drew what looked like the hilt of something and it ignited into a red blade. Hunter and Wrecker immediately began shooting at Maul as he rushed towards the group. Crosshair pulled Omega out of the way and began trying to get a good shot at Maul. Omega readied the crossbow and began shooting at him as well. Maul was fast, clearly experienced. He used his saber to masterfully deflect each blast away, and then he made his offense. He went for Hunter first, dashing towards him and kicking him square in the chest. Hunter was knocked back a decent amount, and then Omega noticed something strange about Maul’s legs. They looked like Echo’s. Tech had explained what happened to Echo (with Hunter filtering some of it), that his legs were cybernetic. Droid parts. And Maul’s looked the same. His legs were artificial too, meaning that any kick he gave would be incredibly powerful. Just like getting hit with a giant block of metal, since that’s what was essentially happening.

But Wrecker hadn’t noticed this. And when Maul went to use the same move on him, he tried to deflect it. He ended up getting thrown off to the side, and hitting his head on a nearby rock. Maul turned to Omega and Crosshair next. Wrecker was near the water, out cold. Hunter was several feet away, struggling to regain his breath. Maul took a step towards Omega and Crosshair, who’d lowered their weapons and stopped firing for the time being. He held his lightsaber to the side and outstretched his free hand.

“Child. I am giving you one last chance. Come with me, or die with these fools.” Omega looked at Maul’s hand, then back up at him.

“I won’t be dying with fools,” Omega said, confident. Maul had a pleased look on his face. Just as he went to say something, Omega brought her crossbow back up and shot Maul’s shoulder. “I’ll be dying with my brothers.”

Crosshair took his chance while Maul was stunned. He shot Maul in the rib as he stumbled back towards his ship. Maul grumbled angrily, but recognized the situation he was in. This wasn’t worth it. He didn’t even have confirmation the child *was* force-sensitive. He limped back to his ship and stood on the ramp, looking back at the clones.

“…you are lucky I have…other options.” Maul then entered his ship, and a few moments later the red and black ship flew off. Omega immediately ran over to check on Wrecker and Hunter.

“Wrecker?” Omega called for her unconscious brother, trying to shake him awake. Wrecker stirred and slowly got up, rubbing his head.

“Ugh…that guy was no joke.” He said, sitting up. Hunter had gotten up too, and he was walking over to Omega. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you alright, Omega?”

“I’m alright.” Omega said, smiling. She stood back up from Wrecker’s side. Crosshair stepped forward, placing a toothpick between his teeth.

“So. You told him?”

“…yeah,” Omega said, now feeling a little guilty. “I thought he was going to help. But…it’s clear he wasn’t going to.” Omega looked back to where the ship had been moments ago. “I guess we’re no better off now than we were before.”

“No. He knew how to find us..did he say how? We never told Fennec our location.” Hunter asked, still looking concerned.

“He didn’t. I didn’t know you hadn’t given her our coordinates, so I didn’t ask,” Omega said. “But he did tell me what Midichlorians are. So…it’s a start.” At this, Hunter smiled softly. She always tried to make light of the situation.

“It is. It certainly is.”

#the bad batch #star wars #star wars the bad batch #sw tbb #the bad batch season 3 #star wars tbb #sw the bad batch #omega tbb #darth maul #maul opress #tbb omega #crosshair tbb #hunter tbb #wrecker tbb #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #tbb fanfiction

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marvel-ous-m · 10 hours

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Time Will Tell

WC: 3260 | Rating: Teen and Up | Tags: Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, The Unrelenting Anxiety of Gift-Giving | AO3 Link

Summary: It's Eddie's 21st Birthday, and Steve's not sure what gift he should get him, what would show the man how much he loves him, how glad he is that they've been able to share the last six months together. That indecisiveness is made worse by the fact he's known since he was six: people are never honest about whether or not they actually appreciate the gift they've been given- and Steve can't stand the idea of Eddie not liking the gift but pretending for Steve's sake. Steve ends up choosing a gift that he knows Eddie won't like in an effort to save everyone pain. That decision sparks a much-needed conversation, and helps Steve understand that his parent's relationship really isn't the blueprint.

Fic Below the Cut!

“-An emerald, I mean, really, could that man at least try to act like he knows me?”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together in confusion at his mother’s exclamation, and he tilted his head. His eyes remained trained on his feet, wrapped in small leather loafers that hung off the side of his parent’s bed. “But Mama, I thought you said you loved it earlier? That it was pretty?”

His mother gave a great, put-upon sigh and turned to face where Steve was seated on the bed. “You’ll understand when you’re older, baby.” Her arms stretched awkwardly around her neck while she spoke, her hands struggling with the clasp of the necklace Steve’s father had presented to her that morning, a gift for her birthday.

Steve huffed in annoyance and crossed his arms. “But wanna und’stand now.”

“You’re a big boy now, Steven. You’re six, enunciate your words, and don’t whine.” Her reprimand came stern, and was juxtaposed by the soft “Aha!” moments later, when the clasp of the necklace finally closed. She turned back towards the vanity and rested her precisely manicured hands over the pendant, a gleaming emerald wrapped in gold, then smiled sadly at herself in the mirror.

“Gifts are rarely about what you actually want, Steven. More often than not, they’re about the monetary value, or meeting a need, or subtly showing the recipient that you have the upper hand. They’re… strategic. I needed a new piece of jewelry for the party tonight, your father delivered- even though the gem he gave me clashes with my eyes, and my skin tone is more complemented by platinum than gold. He gave me this necklace because it makes him look good. It would’ve been nice if he put thought into it- but, well, it would be rude not to be grateful.”

“But… Mama, couldn’t Daddy do both? Get you something you need, and make it something you like?”

His mother’s smile wavered and her eyes softened from where they were now gazing at Steve through his reflection in the vanity mirror. “He could, yes, but it’s like you said- I told him I loved it. As far as your father is concerned, he’s done exactly that- gotten me something I like and need. I’m not going to tell him otherwise. Does that make sense?”

No. In Steve’s six-year-old brain, it really, really didn’t. “I guess so.”

His mother nodded at him from the mirror, then began to put on her earrings. “Good. Now, do you remember what to say when one of your father’s coworkers asks you what you want to be when you grow up?”

This was something that Steve could understand, a response his mother had been teaching him for the last few weeks. Steve beamed. “I want to be an attorney like my Daddy!”

“Good job, baby. Now, go and brush your teeth- we’ll be leaving in a few minutes. It’s your first time joining us at dinner, I want to make sure you’re absolutely perfect.”

“Okay Mama!” Steve scooted off the edge of the bed and toddled towards his parent’s bedroom door, being careful to walk with flat feet so he wouldn’t crease the leather of his loafers, just how his Mama taught him.

“Oh, and Stevie? Don’t tell your father how I feel about the necklace, okay? That’s a just for us conversation.”

Steve nodded, familiar with the concept of keeping certain conversations he had with his mother or father a secret from the other. “Alright, Mama.”

Eddie didn’t like his gift, and Steve knew that. Had prepared for that exact outcome, in fact.

He wasn’t sure what would be good enough to get Eddie for his birthday. They’d been dating for almost six months already, had been flirting around each other for even longer, and Steve was at a loss.

What do you get for the person who you fought hell with? For the person who beat the odds and lived despite everything, for the person you’ve seen at their lowest- the person who saw you at your lowest? What item could possibly express how much Steve adores Eddie, could say how happy he is that Eddie even made it to his 21st birthday after everything that happened? What could serve as a physical testament to the truth of all of their ‘I love you’s and all of the ‘I’m so glad you’re here’s?

Steve got Eddie a watch.

It was the backup gift of the backup gift of the backup gift. A decision made entirely out of cowardice, his mother’s words ringing in his ear.

He had wanted to get Eddie a new battle vest initially- then decided against it, because he was worried it would serve as too much of a reminder of what had happened last Spring.

He’d thought about a guitar case next, an idea that sprung up when he was walking by the music shop downtown. He literally face-palmed moments later, gaining a strange look from a passerby, when he realized that Eddie’s guitar had been left in the Upside Down, that he still didn’t have a new electric guitar, and he already had a case for his acoustic.

Naturally, a new guitar came to mind as a gift idea next, but he nixed that immediately too. The whole reason Eddie hadn’t bought a new guitar yet was because he was very particular about the instrument- and Steve had no idea about all of the different things to consider in guitar buying, so he’d probably just fuck it up. He considered some other stuff, too- new materials to play D&D, concert tickets- but his mind just kept screaming at him, telling him that he didn’t know Eddie well enough to give him any of those gifts.

Really, all he could think about was how badly he would fuck up giving Eddie any meaningful gift- how he’d probably never know if Eddie didn’t like it, because people always pretended that they liked a gift even if they didn’t, so it was basically impossible to tell whether something was actually appreciated.

At the end of the day, it was just easier to abide by the words his mother told him at six and get something that would look nice. Steve wouldn’t be putting his emotions on the line by getting a risky gift, something that Eddie would either love more than anything or absolutely despise.

It was a gift that didn’t match Eddie’s personality at all, and Steve knew that. Eddie was always running late to things, but that’s just how he was. It was endearing, a trait that was lovable, not something to be fixed by having a watch on his wrist.

Steve had, in fact, only realized the negative connotation of the gift after he’d decided to buy it, but it was too late to decide on something else, so he tried to ignore the way his stomach hurt throughout the process of purchasing the thing, and hoped for the best.

Eddie didn’t care about showings of wealth either, so it was pretty pointless for Steve to get him such a nice watch. It wasn’t, like, a Rolex, but he had to save up a bit to buy it. It was made up of dark gray metal with a black leather band, a decision that was made out of Steve trying his best to at least make the gift something that wouldn’t clash with Eddie’s usual attire.

He put a bow on the box it came in and added it to the pile of gifts at Eddie’s birthday party. He tried to stop himself from looking at Eddie when he was going through the process of opening presents, ignored the way his hackles rose when Eddie opened up the watch and gave a tight smile, then a forced-out “Thanks” to Steve, and moved on to opening the next gift wordlessly.

Every other gift elicited a dramatic response from Eddie- a drawing from Will, new dice and minifigures from the kids, a mixtape from Robin, some sci-fi books from Nancy, homemade brownies (yes, *those* brownies) from Jon and Argyle-

And Steve got Eddie a watch.

The rest of the guests to Eddie’s birthday party slowly filtered out of the trailer after all the presents were opened, that having been the close of the party’s festivities. Steve stuck around, cleaning up the trash and dirty dishes strewn around the surrounding area.

Steve and Eddie danced around each other wordlessly- Steve cleaning up while Eddie moved the various gifts from the living room to his bedroom. When all of the leftover paper plates, napkins, and cups were thrown away, and Steve couldn’t find any other dishes to wash in the kitchen, he returned to the living room.

Eddie was seated on the couch by that point, and the watch- in its box, the lid propped open to display the thing- was resting on the coffee table in front of him. “Are you mad at me, Steve? Because, if you are, we could’ve just- I don’t know, talked, instead of you embarrassing me in front of all of our friends on my birthday.”

Steve felt the familiar burn of tears and ducked his head so that Eddie wouldn’t see how his words had affected him.

Eddie wasn’t following the script.

The script which said, no matter what, just pretend to like the present so you don’t appear ungrateful. The script that Steve had been raised on, the script that taught him how to play his part. The script that had motivated him to get the gift in the first place.

“I didn’t mean to be late to Party movie night last week, or to our date three weeks ago, it’s just hard for me to realize what time it is when I’m stuck in my head about something. I didn’t realize that it was bothering you so much- you could’ve told me, y’know? I just feel like shit now, and I’m not even angry- not at you, I’m mad at myself and I’m upset that you didn’t just tell me, and-”

“-I’m sorry.” Steve’s apology came whispered, barely audible due to his head still hanging, staring down at his feet.

His feet, which were wrapped in white, scuffed tennis shoes.

A far cry from the loafers he’d worn at six.

Steve wrapped his arms around himself and focused on taking measured breaths.

He was so clearly detached from the life of his parents, from the unhealthy ideology that stemmed from having too much money and being in a practical relationship rather than one that was built on love.

His relationship with Eddie couldn’t be more different, yet he’d slipped back into that familiar, thinly-veiled selfishness the second he felt anxiety over getting Eddie the wrong thing. Eddie had always been honest with him, so how could Steve ever think that he’d pull the same passive-aggressive misrepresentation of love that his mother so often portrayed to his father?

“Steve?”

It seemed Eddie had crossed the room while Steve had been distracted by his own thoughts, seeing as the man was now cupping Steve’s jaw with his hand, a concerned look in his eyes. “Where’d you go, sweetheart?”

“S-sorry. I’m sorry, I just- I don’t think I’m good at it.” Steve’s words came quicker than his thoughts, and his breath hitched as he spoke due to his steady crying.

“Good at what, Stevie?”

“Gifts.”

Eddie hummed under his breath, his thumb gently swiping against Steve’s cheekbone in an effort to wipe away his tears. “Care to expand on that, baby? Because the Stevie I know just gave Robin a weekend trip to Chicago for her birthday a month ago, and it made her cry so hard she almost threw up.”

“It’s different.”

“What’s different?”

“We-we’re together, and- shit, Eds, I had a ton of ideas of things I thought you’d like, but I just kept thinking I’d get it wrong, but you wouldn’t- look, you love me too, right?”

Eddie huffed out a soft breath of confusion, and his other hand moved to rest on the small of Steve’s back, pulling him into a hug. “Of course I love you, I tell you everyday”

“Yeah, I know.” Steve’s voice was near pleading, wobbling with renewed emotion while fresh tears slipped down his cheeks. “So even if I got you the wrong thing, I’d never know that, and then I’d just keep fucking up, and next thing you know, we’d resent each other and disguise that hatred in things that are supposed to be displays of love, like gifts, and we’d end up like my parents, and I can’t do that to you, you never deserve to feel that way-”

“Hold on- sorry to cut you off, sweetheart, but I feel like I got a little lost there. C’mon, let’s sit.” Eddie wrapped his hand around Steve’s and tugged him towards the couch, then gently shoved Steve onto a cushion and curled up next to him, keeping their hands linked. “Okay, I have three questions. One, why do you think you’d get me the ‘wrong thing’; two, why wouldn’t you know if I didn’t like something; and three, if I love you so much- which you know I do, why do you think we’d end up like your parents?”

Steve sniffed, scrubbing his eyes with the palm of his free hand to try and wipe the tears away. “It’s- okay, so, I wanted to get you a new vest, right? But that would just be a reminder of what happened back in the Upside Down, and then I wanted to get you a guitar case, but that wouldn’t work for obvious reasons- then I thought of a new guitar, but I’d definitely fuck that up because I don’t know the first thing about guitars. I thought about some other stuff, like for D&D or whatever, but I didn’t think that would be enough- and I just kept psyching myself out, right? Because my whole childhood, my dad got my mom these gifts, but they weren’t things she actually wanted, and all I could think about is how I could accidentally do that for you.

“My mom, she always told him how happy she was, then would turn around and tell me or her friends how much she hated the thing and- I couldn’t stomach the idea of that happening, of not knowing that I upset you, so I just- I defaulted to something that would look nice, right? A strategic gift, rather than something special. I honestly didn’t even think about you being late to things until after I decided to buy it, and then I hated that I’d made that decision, because I don’t think you being late to stuff is something that needs to change, I actually kinda love it about you because it means that you were so wrapped up in something else, something you love.

“Anyways- I just went through with it, bought the thing because I didn’t know what else to do, because knowing that you wouldn’t like it honestly made it easier than getting my hopes up about you liking something and then always questioning whether you actually liked it because people never really say what they think, but then you just came out and said what you thought about the frankly shit gift I got you, and I can’t believe it took that to make me realize how fuckin’ stupid I was being by just falling back into the toxic shit my parents taught me growing up. I’m so sorry, Eds. You didn’t deserve that. We’re obviously not going to end up like my parents, stuck together and hating each other- but sometimes, when I navigate us, I can’t help but go back to them, because they were my blueprint. Does that make sense?”

Eddie’s hold on his hand hadn’t waned throughout Steve’s rambling explanation, and only grew tighter, more supportive, at the close of Steve’s question. “Yeah, sweetheart, that makes sense. I hate that you found yourself going down that line of thinking, but I understand that that’s where you’d go if your parents created that atmosphere for you.”

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, Steve’s attention having turned towards the rings on Eddie’s hand that was tangled with his own, while Eddie used his other hand to gently card through Steve’s hair. Steve’s tears had slowed throughout his expounding and had become the occasional sniffle, joined by a shuddering breath.

Eddie eventually broke their silence, his voice soft and his tone careful. “For what it’s worth, I can tell you put a lot of thought into it. Even if it’s not really something I was hoping for, you chose a gift that would go with my outfits, chose my favorite colors. I can tell how much it mattered to you to get something I’d like, even if you defaulted to making it something that you knew wouldn’t mean, y’know, the world to me.”

Steve huffed, shifting so that he could burrow his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck. “You don’t have to try and make it not shitty, Eds, I know it sucks. I knew that going in.”

“I’m being honest, I still appreciate the good intentions behind it.”

“I’m sorry that it made you feel so shitty- sorry that now you have to deal with all this on top of it, on your fucking birthday-”

“Stevie, baby, it’s okay. Being with you- that alone means the world to me. You could’ve gotten me nothing and I would’ve been grateful to be with you, because in my opinion, you are the greatest gift I’ve ever received. As for working through childhood shit on my birthday, that’s not, like, a chore for me. I’m happy to be here, to talk about these things with you, because I love you, and that’s part of our love. Okay?”

Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple, and Steve melted underneath him, letting out a soft sigh. “Yeah, okay.”

Steve shifted closer and kissed the dip of Eddie’s shoulder, then wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist to pull the man closer. “I still wanna do something to apologize, something to celebrate you rather than make us fight.”

“You didn’t make us fight, baby. I was just confused. We talked, we figured stuff out, we’re holding each other, everything is good. You don’t have to make it up to me, because there’s nothing to make up.”

Steve hummed against Eddie’s neck, his hand moving up to brush through his curls. “I don’t have to, but I still want to. Maybe not tonight, because I kinda think we should just cuddle and eat leftover cake and watch a movie, but tomorrow I wanna take you out, just drive for a few hours, we can find a place to grab some food together. After that, maybe we can come back here, hold each other a while. We can do that thing you like so much with your belt and my hands…” Steve trailed off, his tone lilting into something flirtatious.

Eddie gave a giddy chuckle in response, flicking Steve’s bicep playfully. “Yeah, alright loverboy. As long as you’re feeling up for it, and not doing it because you feel like you have to do it- I think that I would love that.”

“Then consider it done.” Steve sat back slightly to press a kiss to Eddie’s lips, then returned to his spot against Eddie’s shoulder.

“Sounds like an outstanding gift. I’ll be counting down the seconds ‘til then, sweetheart.”

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #em writes #steddie fic #steddie established relationship #steddie hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort

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chevelleneech · 10 hours

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Blocking every former and supposedly on the fence Buddie shipper who feels the need to tag Buddie on their posts where they claim to want Buddie to happen so badly or are in a dilemma about it going canon, because they’ve, “Seen the toxicity in the fandom and can’t take it anymore.”

Bullshit. They’re making up excuses to jump ship, when it’s really not necessary.

If you don’t want to ship Buddie, don’t ship them. It’s not against the law. It won’t get you excommunicated from the 911 fandom either, but it will make you look like a fool for acting like: 1) you didn’t know there were toxic fans in the fandom to begin with — as there are in all fandoms, or 2) there aren’t any toxic fans among the BuckTommy fandom.

You can’t claim to be tired of toxic Buddies for saying BT is bland or lack chemistry or LFJ is ugly or whatever else, when there are BT shippers saying the same exact things about Buddie and RG. Both sides have toxic fans, the only difference is that BT shippers currently have canon on their side, so those of you jumping ship are able to feel more validated in leaving.

Fans wanted Buck to be queer for nearly as long as the show has been out, and not once has anyone really shipped him with other people. Josh here and there, Connor occasionally, and that one prophet who wrote about him and Tommy. But majorly, it’s been Eddie. As such, toxic fans have been toxic when it came to any and every relationship either of them were in, so what makes Tommy any different? Did y’all really expect all the toxic fans to be happy with yet another love interest they weren’t looking forward to?

Not only that, but again, there are also toxic BT shippers, and fun fact! They didn’t pop up out of nowhere nor were they born out of defense of Buck and Tommy’s extremely new coupling.

I promise you, those same people were die hard Buddie shippers waiting with bated breath for Buck or Eddie to kiss each other or a man in general. They got it with Buck, so now they feel the need to belittle everything that came before in hopes that Tommy won’t be written out. They don’t care about character development or chemistry or Buck as an actual character either, proven by the many many posts across Tumblr, Twitter, and Tik Tok framing them as in love and smitten.

Claiming Eddie doesn’t mean anything to Buck. Claiming Tommy was a knight in shining armor. Claiming (and this is truly the fault of lazy writing and Tim and co trying to give themselves an out for under developing BT) Buck not talking about Tommy is a sign of happiness.

BT is sexual attraction first and foremost, and that’s all we know. Which is fine, I’ve said before, s8 will hopefully expand on them and their relationship if that’s the plan, but until then, there’s nothing there. Meaning there is nothing about the ship to defend the way some of their fans are doing, but somehow that’s more acceptable than Buddie fans defending Buddie? Sure.

Point is, if you’re jumping ship, go ahead. You don’t need to explain or more aptly worded, lie about why. Toxic fans exist on both sides. Most of you would just rather deal with the ones on the canon side of things, because it helps you feel better. Less embarrassed or anxious, maybe? I don’t know, because regardless of if Buddie ever goes canon, they’re not real, and there is no reason to feel anything if it turns out their shippers were wrong.

But I have to ask, what’s going to happen if BT does end? What will be the excuses for all the trash talking and belittlement of years worth of theories? What will y’all say to rectify putting one toxic group on a pedestal over the other? Because that’s what’s happening. BT shippers are being given full clearance to act like shit to people simply because their ship is canon, so what happens if that changes? What happens if Buddie does go canon? Where will all the high and mighty attitudes go?

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farmerlarrry · 14 hours

Text

Orange Slices (Joel Miller x f!reader)

masterlist | chapter sixteen | chapter fifteen | read on ao3 | playlist

story summary: A story about finding companionship and love in the midst of chaos.

word count: 4987

a/n: Hi guys, so sorry about not updating here for a while! I promise I'll continue posting Orange Slices chapter updates here, I just completely forgot to post chapter 17. Not to be annoying, but if you are interested in staying in touch with me/my other works/story updates (including fororange slices), I am now mainly on @urbancowboyjoel now. Chapter 18 is still in the works, explanation is at the end of the chapter hehe.

if you want to be notified when I post new chapters, follow @farmerlarrrylibrary and put on notifications! If you'd rather be tagged, just let me know.

@pocket-macnchz

Chapter Seventeen

“Come to me in the silence of the night; come in the sparkling silence of a dream.” -Christina Rossetti

The moonlight streams in through the small window in the kitchen, offering a comforting presence in the midst of your sudden onset of insomnia. After the day you had, all the lifting and moving, you should be tired; you should be exhausted. However, after tossing and turning for hours while your mind raced with thoughts about James and Joel and Nessa and your impending return to patrol and past memories, of your hometown and how things used to be, how much has changed within the past few years–your relentless thoughts refused to slow down no matter how much you tried to fight against them, so you forced yourself from the couch and took a seat at the kitchen table in the dark.

Staring off into the dark abyss of where you just came from, you roll your neck, grimacing at the shooting pain at the base of your skull. Sleeping on the couch was not working out. Nothing good came out of it, just restless nights and daily body aches. Still, regardless of being in this house for a while, the reminisce of the lives that used to call this house their home still haunts you in one form or another. This place has yet to begin feeling like yours, and at this rate, you don’t think it ever will.

The past few weeks have been nothing short of a blur, between the conversation you had with Joel and the myriad of drama surrounding you in Jackson, your mind has been rather preoccupied.

After your eyes fully adjusted to the dark, you reached for the notebook at the center of the table. The clock mounted behind you on the wall in the kitchen, was loud in your ears, the mixture of tick-tocks and your heartbeat whooshing in your ear gave you a sense of unsettling nausea.

You flipped to the next available blank page in the worn notebook, the moon casting a sliver of light across the table as if it was encouraging you to write about your troubles after witnessing your restless night for countless weeks. The eraser head hits the paper in between the ticks and tocks of the clock as you delve further into your thoughts. Where do I start? You ask yourself.

A few weeks ago, after returning from an uneventful patrol alongside Joel, you came across a post on the community information board in the town square. Charles posted a help wanted request for cleaning and setting up a library in one of the vacant buildings within the community. As soon as you saw his name signed at the bottom, you ripped it from the board and rushed to his house to volunteer your hand. A part of you felt saddened that he didn’t come to you and ask, considering he confided in you that one day he'd like to open a library here. Although, given the rocky state of things going on in your life, you understood why he didn’t ask to begin with.

After going around to the different guards, asking for anyone to cover her spot with patrol, Tommy was the only one who stepped up while you and Charles began stripping the building, cleaning, and organizing the collection of books he’s hoarded over the years, were donated by members of the community, or were purposely scavenged from nearby.

Although you hated admitting this to yourself, it was nice getting a break from doing patrol. Setting up the library was the perfect distraction from everything going on, and spending time with Charles, someone who you looked up to for guidance and as a father figure, was the kind of presence your soul needed.

That distraction only went so far though, at night your thoughts consistently kept you up into the wee hours of the morning. It had nearly become debilitating and you knew it was something you’d have to figure out sooner rather than later, particularly before you returned to your patrol duties. The main two culprits that haunted your thoughts were none other than Joel and James; Joel, mainly because you’ve been spending much less time with him than usual, and James for the fact that he’s been too involved in your life lately.

Regardless of not going on patrol with Joel, you still see him nearly everyday. Usually the two of you eat dinner together, with him stopping by what will eventually become the library to see if you wanted to join him. Your answer was always yes with no hesitation on your end. After dinner, he'd walk you home, sometimes he’d stay for an hour or so, other times he’d retreat to his house to go to bed, telling you that the sleepless nights in the QZ and on the outside were catching up with him. At the end of each day, you always craved more from him.

Then there was James. Oh, James…

Ever since your confrontation out front of the stables about the little stunt he pulled that almost got you taken off of patrols, it seems as if James has been trying to do some intense damage control with you. He’s stopped by your house a handful of times that you know of. You’ve never opened the door, going completely still so as to not alert him of your presence, though he still takes it upon himself to profusely apologize through the door, pleading for you to talk to him.

Through word of mouth, either from the other guards discussing your temporary leave or from Charles himself, James must’ve learned about you helping with the library because he began showing up between his patrols and other guard duties, claiming he just wants to see how things are coming along.

These unexpected drop-ins put Charles in an awkward position; you knew it, James knew it—he came anyway. While you stealthily slipped into the back room to busy yourself, sometimes organizing piles of books you already organized days prior, other times just staring at the wall, Charles would take the initiative to entertain James with small talk.

Every time James made his eventual departure, Charles would let out a loud heavy sigh, saying so much with no words. And after you’d mutter your half-assed apology as you emerged from the back room, he’d give you a look; one so full of disappointment and defeat. For the rest of the day, both of you would work in silence.

Charles never said anything beyond his sigh and the look he’d give you in regards to James. His body language was more than enough and he knew that. He knew the guilt that you feel and the conflicting anger you have towards James. After the last talk the two of you had, he’d given up and knew no matter what he said to you, no matter how much he tried to help, you wouldn’t listen anyway.

He knew you were a coward and had no plan of resolving things with James anytime soon.

A coward wishing their problem would disappear.

You wished James would just disappear , because then you wouldn’t have to think about what you did to him that started this. And that made you feel guilty.

Eventually, you knew you’d have to come face to face with James, knowing that he won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. The community is relatively small and people talk; in the long run it would be best to smooth things over, at least attempt to talk things out. Although, it just wasn’t something you could do right now. Not with your conflicting and complex feelings toward James—especially not when things were so God damned gray with Joel.

The snapping of the lead of your pencil pulls you out of your mind consuming rant, suddenly becoming aware of your dark surroundings as you return to reality. You could feel the intense heat radiating off of your cheeks as you brought one palm up to your face.

After staring at the paper for a few minutes, taking in the messy scribbles of words, you rip out the page in one swift motion, immediately crumpling it into a ball. The muscles in your forearm tensed as you squeezed the paper within your fist, making it smaller and more compact with each squeeze. The paper disappeared within the dark shadows of the kitchen when you chucked it across the table.

Your head began to spin, a buzzing sensation filling your skull and making you feel uneasy. Moving the hand on your cheek up to your forehead, you let out a sigh of frustration and close your eyes.

Joel.

Such an intense and complex person. From the moment you sat across from him at that damned table at that abandoned cabin, you felt drawn to him. Something about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on made you feel understood and protected and at ease. When it was just the two of you, you could imagine what life would be like by his side, and it was something you so badly wanted to manifest into reality. He could be a complete asshole at times, but then there were other times when he was so vulnerable with you and he would laugh and you could see a glimmer of joy in his eyes that gave you a tiny glimpse of who he was before the outbreak happened. Weirdly enough, you wanted him just as much in his worst moments as you did in his best. To you, knowing that was enough. It was enough to understand what you felt for him.

James…

He was such a sweet and kind soul, always making you feel so normal, as if none of this outbreak bullshit ever happened. James felt things so purely and intensely, it almost made you envious that someone could experience life in such a way after losing so much. From the beginning he treated you as an equal, he didn’t make you have to prove yourself like some of the others did, he didn’t see you as the weird girl who showed up with Tommy Miller and his misfit older brother. He treated you like a human being deserving of friendship, he stuck up for you, and on the late nights the two of you would spend together, he made you feel like you were something important to this world. While all those things may remain true, it doesn’t change how he treated Joel or what he did to you when his jealousy took over. Things could never go back to how they were after that.

Closing the front cover of the notebook and slipping the pencil into the spiral binding for safe keeping, you slide it back to the center of the table where you retrieved it from.

In the past, writing had helped you sort through your thoughts, it did when Joel left shortly after you arrived in Jackson and when memories of the past became too much to bear. It gave you a chance to dump everything without the judgment of others and many times you were able to either solve the core of the problem or come to some sort of decision on how to manage your feelings, but this time around…no matter how much you deliberated, how much you wrote, it just leaves you with a bigger headache than you started with.

And this headache seemed to grow worse as the days went on.

As your hand ran down the front of your face, you turned in your chair to look at the clock, squinting your eyes to make out the numbers and hand position in the dark. You raise your eyebrows when you realize it’s now past midnight, nearly an hour has passed and you have been completely lost in your thoughts this entire time.

At this point the moonlight shifted, the sliver that previously caressed the table with a soft glow, was now leading you to the couch.

Pressing your palms firmly against the smooth surface of the table, it takes you a second to push yourself up onto your feet as your eyes lock onto one of the many burn marks pulling you back into your daze. Joel did say I was welcome anytime, the words appear in your mind without any warning, maybe I can… With one hard, intentional blink, the thought disappeared.

Nothing good ever comes after midnight. On top of that, you aren't being rational right now, you’re sleep deprived and borderline delarius. Nothing good will come out of that, you whisper your words out loud. Sleep. That’s what you needed. That’s all you need right now. Not clarity, or confirmation, or him.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you walk the short distance from the table to the couch, nearly toppling over on the couch. All you wanted at the moment was to sleep. You desperately wanted a break from your racing thoughts that were now becoming tortuous. Before laying down, you punched the poor excuse of a pillow a few times before laying on your back, your hands resting just above your navel. As you close your eyes, you slow your breathing.

Trying to trick your brain into sleeping, you count the seconds that pass in unison to the ticking clock. Flashing images of Joel kept distracting you, so when you finally reached six hundred after several failed attempts, you flipped onto your side with your face now facing the back of the couch. The rough fabric brushed the tip of your nose as you nuzzled your face into the cushion, the heat of your breathing warming your cold cheeks.

Three hundred more seconds pass before you shoot up from the couch, the sudden movement making blood rush to your head, the already dark room becoming darker for a fraction of time. Your heart, for some reason that you don’t know why, is racing, thumping strongly within the confines of your chest.

Placing your hand over your heart, feeling the movement under the layers of skin, muscle, and bone, you approach the window in the living room, your steps slow almost as if you were afraid of getting caught. As you look out the window toward Joel’s house, you brace your hands on the windowsill, leaning into them to get a better look. His house at this time of the night was nothing more than a shadow, but you could recount every detail of it by memory.

You began to gently chew on your bottom lip as a sudden calm came over.

Fuck it.

Before you could process your decision or think of what the consequence might come from out of this, you were already halfway out the door, barefoot and still in your pajamas. Time seemed to slow as you walked across the empty street and up Joel’s pathway; the overgrown weeds tickling the bottom of your feet with each step.

Knock, knock, knock.

The wooden door was hard against your knuckles, knocking hard enough so he would hear but wouldn’t be alarmingly loud either.

For a brief moment, a sliver of consciousness washed over you, the only thing you could hear was your own ragged breaths as the adrenaline continued to rush through your veins and covered your body in a numbing sensation. What are you doing? Your eyebrows drew together. Looking over your shoulder you judged the distance between where you stood and where your front door was. If I leave now, perhaps I can make it back before he gets to the door. The longer you think on it, you realize the opportunity slipping through your fingers.

The sound of creaking floorboards causes you to turn back toward Joel’s front door and straighten your posture, your chin tilting upward ever so slightly. Your fingers fiddle with each other as you wait for the door to open; on the other side of the barrier, you can hear Joel clear his throat and your heart stalls.

At first, he barely opens the door wide enough for his head to poke through. You take a second to scan his face; he looks confused, still half asleep, but God did he look handsome.

“Hey, um, ” your voice is soft, not quite sure what to say. You shift the weight between your feet as you continue to look at him.

After taking what seemed like forever to process your presence, Joel’s narrowed eyes quickly turn into concern and he opens the door wider revealing his entire body. “Is everything okay?” His voice was rough, laden with sleep. Your breathing hitches, leaving you unable to respond as you take him in before you. Your eyes glaze down from his concerned expression, to his chest hair and down his bare torso, to the top of the band of his blue boxer that looked as if they had been put on in a rush. Your core ignited with an intense heat, your heartbeat picking up in speed.

You force yourself to swallow despite your throat feeling as if it were closing in on itself. “I can’t sleep…” You shook your head, keeping your eyes fixated on his. “I’m–I’m sorry to bother you so late.” Letting out a sigh you avert your gaze down to your feet. Looking at him was too much for you to handle right now.

The sigh of relief escaping him made you slowly look back up at him, his shoulders relaxing. Without saying anything else, Joel opens the door completely, stepping aside to allow you to come in. You give him a shy smile in response, butterflies now going rampant in your stomach.

You wait for Joel to take the lead, not sure what would happen from here. You knew what you wanted to happen, whether it was right or wrong. Perhaps he’d offer you the couch, simply a place to sleep for the night. That’s probably for the best. Or maybe the two of you would talk for a bit and then he’d send you on your way. Fuck, you’re an idiot, you thought, hating yourself now for not thinking this through. Joel had to get up for patrol in the morning and you thought it was a good idea to bother him for your own selfish reasons. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You dig your nails into your palms as a flash of heat runs through your body.

Joel’s arm brushes up against yours as he passes, leading you further into his home and turning on lights as he goes. You have to force yourself not to look at him or the way his back muscles shift as he walks. Get a hold of yourself, you scold yourself and suck in some very much needed oxygen through your teeth.

You take everything in as you walk further into his home, it’s been quite a while since you’ve been here. Between the pictures of wildlife to the half finished wood carvings, everything remains the same as you remember; perfectly lived in and a reflection of who Joel is at his core.

The kitchen light flickers a few times when Joel flips the switch, damn light , his voice comes out as a low mumble. As the two of you approach the table, he pulls out one of the chairs gesturing for you to take a seat. You avoid his gaze, giving him a nod of gratitude before he rounded the corner of the table and headed toward the kitchen cabinets.

“You want something to drink?” He asks as he grabs two glasses, the side clinking together as he sets them down on the countertop. “Liquor, fresh milk, water…” He only turns back to look at you once he finishes.

You shake your head. “I’m fine, thanks though.” The last thing you need is alcohol, and you were sure that anything that went down would instantly be vomited back up given the fact that your stomach was in the most intense knots you have ever experienced.

Joel stares at you for a second longer than usual before giving you a single nod, abandoning the glasses on the counter and taking a seat in the chair directly across from you.

He clears his throat before asking, “Somethin’ botherin’ you?” His tone was genuine. You scoff quietly in response, if only I could tell you , you thought.

You didn’t respond immediately, staring off into the kitchen behind Joel and gathering your thoughts. “There’s…” You didn’t know how to respond or what to say. No, you couldn’t tell him. Or could you? “Yes, I just don’t know… I don’t” You cut yourself off, sucking in some air to challenge the suffocating feeling that manifested in your chest.

“You don’t want to talk about it?” He says, not intending it as a question. Joel clasps his hands together, resting them on the table. Without looking at him, you slowly nod. “Nothin’ wrong with that.”

Then a silence fell between the two of you. You didn’t know what else to say, you could barely look at him across the table from you and could feel his stare burning a hole into you. Guilt quickly washed over you and you slightly cringed to yourself before lifting your eyes up to Joel. His gaze was intently fixated on you, an intensity in his eyes you saw only a few times.

Your lips part, your tongue wetting your dried out lips. “I’m sorry I woke you up for nothing,” Your voice was breathy and barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know what to do, so…”

Joel immediately shook his head before you were even able to finish. “Don’t– no, don’t apologize.” You give him a pitiful smile, though his expression did not break. The two of you stare at each other for what seems like minutes, though in reality it was probably only a few seconds at most.

“How’s the library comin’ along?” He changed the subject, which you were thankful for. “Sounds like a lot of people are excited for it.” Joel cocked his head.

“Yeah, probably a dozen people stop by a day just to see when we’ll be done.” You say as you tuck your hands beneath your thighs. “Hardest part is just filling the shelves with books, more tedious than hard though.” Joel was listening with intent. “Tony brought us a ton of books from the run last week, so that was pretty huge. On top of that people have been dropping books off to donate.”

“It’ll…it’ll be a good addition to Jackson.” Joel responds and you nod.

There was a pause in the conversation, a bit of awkwardness rising in the air.

“How’s patrol going in my absence?” You inquire, changing the subject.

Joel let out a low whisper as he adjusted himself in the chair. “Same ol’, same ol’. Don’t tell Tommy I said this, but it’s been nice spending some one on one time with him. It’s been a while since it’s just been us.” He says, a glimmer growing brighter in his eyes. A small smile appeared on his face. “Sort of like old times, when we’d go on fishin’ trips together.”

You smile at the sentiment, before completely changing your expression. “ Mmmm,” you hum, causing Joel to look at you. His eyes narrow slightly in confusion. “Do I have to worry about you replacing me?” You jokingly narrow your eyes back at him, cocking your head to one side.

Joel let out a boisterous laugh. “God no, never,” his response was quick with no hesitation. “I say that, but I can only take so much of him… ask me in a few more weeks and I’ll be beggin’ on my hands and knees for you to come back.”

A smile appeared on your face again, “I won’t make you beg too hard.” Joel instantly locked eyes with you through his brow-line, your stomach jumping at the eye contact.

“No?” He raised his eyebrow as he spoke, his voice dark but somewhat playful as he gave you a devious smile.

You were the first to drop your gaze, followed up by Joel clearing his throat.

“Um…” You fill the silence, trying to think of how to converse after that moment. In your peripheral view, you see Joel reach his hand over the table, gesturing toward you.

“I think about ya’.” His eyes dart around as you look at him, searching for some sort of reaction from you. Everything around you went eerily silent. You raise your eyebrows almost stunned by this confession. All you wanted to say was: You do? However, you waited for him to continue, to take the lead on whatever was about to be said. It seems as if your reaction was enough because Joel nodded. “When I’m doin’ patrol and you aren’t there, at night before I fall asleep,” as he went on, he refused to look at you. From his expression you couldn’t quite tell what his intent was telling you this. “I–I’m��” At this point his head is hanging low, his eyes fixated on the table; he shook his head. “I’ll be right back.”

His tone was different than before, you sensed a bit of hesitation, perhaps embarrassment. You return with a curt nod, although he didn’t give you a second look before he left and headed toward the stairs. You remained seated at the table as you listened to the thumps of each step he took, and when things went silent, you raised out of the chair. What just happened? Joel’s confession almost seemed unreal, did you imagine that just now? You turned in a circle, your eyes tracking the walls as you spin. Am I dreaming? Your face now twisted in confusion.

Walking out of the kitchen, you stand at the bottom of the staircase for a moment looking up. Joel was nowhere in sight. You blow out the air you had been holding on to as you pad over to the living room, turning on the light. Bracing your hand on the threshold, you paused.

It was considerably messy compared to the other parts of the house. A blanket was lazily draped over the back of the couch, the guitar laid on it back on the ground as if he had been playing it and put it there to come back to later. Records were scattered on top of the coffee table, alongside a book laying face down open.

As you approach the bookshelves on the back wall, you run your hand along the soft blanket and carefully step over the guitar.

Reaching for a book that had a red-brown leather exterior with silver foil details on the side, your ears perk up when you hear Joel coming down the steps. You remain still, running your fingers over the spine before pulling it out. You hear the floorboards creak as Joel gets closer and closer to the living room, the louder his steps get, the weight in your chest gets heavier. You remain still, not turning toward the entrance to acknowledge his presence.

Seconds seem to pass by in hours, until you feel his warmth behind you. “You can borrow it if you’d like.” His voice shook slightly as he spoke, your breathing becoming shallow. No words would leave your throat.

Quickly, you turn to face him, your arm dropping to your side with the book still within your grasp. Joel took a single step toward you, closing the already little distance between your bodies. You brought your hand up to the middle of his chest, placing the palm of your hand flat against him; his heart was beating fast. Out of instinct, your body stiffens, your eyes softening as you lock onto his.

As you tilt your chin upwards, Joel leans in, his eyelids fluttering as the two of you become closer to one another. Your eyes remain wide open as you relish the sight, total relief overcoming you at what was about to happen. Your tortuous thoughts from earlier completely disappear and burn in the fire that rose in the core of your pelvis. It was just you and Joel right now. Right now that's all that mattered to you.

Just as his lips met yours, your eyes fluttered shut. Bursts of colors explode beneath your eyelids, and at some point the book slipped from your hands, landing with a dull thud. His hands were all over you now, one fisting at the back of your oversized night shirt, and the other gently caressing the side of your hip. Joel’s lips were soft, his movement a lot more gentle than you imagined on the many nights you couldn’t sleep. Yet, he was still passionate and the intensity made jolts of electricity rush through your body.

You quickly pull back from him, both of your hands holding loosely onto his biceps. He went to lean in again, but you pulled back again. “Tell me you want me to stay,” your voice is barely above a whisper, smooth and alluring. There was nothing more you wanted than this , what was happening right now. After that first dinner with Tommy and Joel, that was the turning point for you and ever since then that– Joel seemingly wanting it as much as you did–it was all you could think about whenever you were around him or when you’d see him at the bar, or across the community.

Joel’s hands glided down your back before he clasped them together. His eyes shift off to the side before returning to you. You could tell he was contemplating, just like you had earlier; doing this…is it right or wrong? The way his hands press into your lower back told you that he wouldn't be able to resist you, not this time.

His throat bobs as he looks into your eyes, his eyes softening and his lips parting. No words came out as he leaned into you, placing his forehead on yours.

Joel nodded and whispers onto your lips, “Stay. ”

chapter eighteen coming soon! (I'm being so fr too, I'm just bad at writing smut and I want it to be perfect so bear with me)

painting divider | credit: @cottage-writings

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mymelodymia · 2 days

Note

Percy jackson and half-sibling reader where reader has no idea how to swim‼️‼️

just breathe, dude! // percy jackson x half sibling!reader

Summary: you wake up percy late to teach you to swim

Warnings: mentioned cussing, choking on water,

Age: 11-15

Area/place: CHB

A/N: HIII! I hope this is what you had in mind, thx for requesting :)

☠️˚~˖𓍢ִ໋ ♡*°◇🎧✧˚.🔪⋆◇+*🎙°♡+

"Percy" you whisper while poking the boys shoulder. He stirred and sat up, rubbing his tired eyes softly "what, y/n?" He mumbles

"Can you teach me how to swim" he gave you a glare, that really couldn't wait til his dream was over?

"Teach you how to sw- your the daughter/son of posiden....and dont know, how to swim?"

"No, now get up and ill meet you at the lake" you say while walking out of the cabin. He grumbled and even considered ignoring you and going back to his spider man dream.

He sleepily got up and changed into his swimwear. He snook through camp to the lake you were at.

He whined as he walked into the cold water, moonlight glistening off the surface.

"Okay, well, you gonna go deeper or are you gonna stay knee deep?" He would ask you as he walked forward.

He held you up when you guys got a bit deeper. He would admit that he had no clue what he was doing when it came to teaching you how to swim but he would try. "Okay umm, kick you legs. Like, kick the water away from your feet"

Once you got the hang of that, he moved onto the next step

"Kay, good. Now try that with your arms" you did that and he felt some of your weight be supported by you instead of his hand on your waist.

He made the dumb decision to let go and you dipped under the surface. He quickly pulled you back up while you coughed out some water

"Sorry thats my bad" he said to you softly, even when you called him an a**hole for letting go

After some time of your cussing after he let go, and you choking on water, and your eyes burning, you finally held yourself up in the water.

Percy hyped you up, even though you were struggling to keep your head up. "Now lean forward. Push the water behind you"

You did that, and after almost going under again, you swam a few feet. You gasped and smiled at percy

And after almost drowning several times, you got the hang of it.

"Now lets go under, even though you have several times." You immediately refused to do this. But percy talked you into it

You held your breath, percy didn't since he could breathe under the water

Percy stayed close to you in case you panicked. You held your eyes shut. Percy tapped your shoulder so you'd open them. You did and blinked a few times.

You then tried to swim back up for air, but Percy didn't help you. You groaned to get him to help you but then he spoke

"Just breathe, dude!"

You looked at him funny when he said that, despite being underwater. Eventually you took a breath. Very confused

"Y/n, we're kids of posiden. You can breathe under the water."

And now with the time being 3 in the morning, you and percy had to sneak back to your cabin. Dripping water all over the floor.

You both dried up the water quickly and then went to bed.

"Hey percy, you awake still?"

"......yeah"

"...thanks, for helping me"

"Anytime bro/sis"

💀˚~˖𓍢ִ໋ ♡*°◇🎧✧˚.⋆◇🦢+*°♡+

A/N: sorry if this sucks lol. Wrote it rlly quickly while in Walmart.

🤍tags🦢

(None yet i dont think. Pls send me an ask if u wanna be added!)

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sunshinesdaydream · 2 days

Text

@the-bad-batch-baroness I don't know what happened to your ask, but I saved it as a draft last night ready to post this morning....and tumblr ate it. But thank you for requesting Comet with Caramel "Do you think I'll be a good father" (I did replace Father with Buir.) I adore Comet in your "Where's Mommy?" (He makes the crying worth it!) I loved having the chance to write him.

I'm sorry I didn't think to screenshot the request! I hope you enjoy this!

Notes: Wolffe has a daughter that makes an apperance in this. However she is unnamed as is the baby and reader so you can insert your own head canon name for the daughters of Wolffe and Comet.

Reinforcements

Pairing: Comet x Fem! Reader Event: Sunshine's Follower Milestone (still open) Event Masterlist: Masterlist Graphic dividers&Event graphics: by myself @sunshinesdaydream Rating: SFW WARNINGS: Childbirth mentioned. Word count: 485

Comet had always been the youngest. From his first memories as CT-5597, usually just 97, he had been made the youngest. In his batch, then his cadet squad, then in the Wolfpack. Even with shinys coming in after him, he was somehow always the baby. He had told you about this, and you could tell by the interactions between him and his brothers. They were slightly more protective of him.

He was the favorite uncle, you suspected because he was always ready to indulge in play. And if chores needed done he had a talent for making them into a game. Comet had an inner joy that had persisted and survived the war, in no small part thanks to those brothers.

Now he was holding your baby, gazing down at her utterly entranced. He had been for two hours now, while she slept. Comet hadn’t left your side since you had gone into labor and you hadn’t been able to persuade him to go get food. He hadn’t even slept in the chair. So while he was holding the baby you had called in reinforcements.

The sound of the door swishing open didn’t phase him, but the sound of his commander clearing his throat did pull his attention to the door. Wolffe silently went over to Comet and gently lifted the baby out of her father’s arms.

As soon as the baby was out of his arms his niece was jumping onto his lap, “ba’vodu!” She exclaimed hugging him. Comet immediately hugged the little girl tight to himself.

Wolffe looked down at your daughter in his arms. “Olarom, ad’ika,” he said with a soft smile. He gently placed the baby in your arms and kissed your forehead. “Beautiful job, vod’ika,” he said.

“What’s wrong, ba’vodu?” The little girl asked. Both your and Wolffe’s attention went to Comet, alarmed.

He looked up at Wolffe, “Do you think I’ll be a good buir?”

Both you and Wolffe opened your mouths to reply, but his daughter beat both of you to it.

She put her hands on either side of Comet’s face and said, “You are a great ba’vodu, of course you are going to be a great buir.'' Then she kissed the tip of his nose and hopped down. Taking hold of his hand, “Come on, you have to eat so you have energy to be a buir. We can get some ice cream!”, she used one of his ways to cheer the kids up.

You stifled a laugh to keep from disturbing your baby while Wolffe quietly chuckled, “She’d know better than we would. Let’s go vod’ika,”

Comet came over to you, giving you a gentle kiss and stroking the baby’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon,” he said.

“Take your time, we’ll be here” you assure him. “She has to get used to sharing, she has a lot of cousins and they still need you too,”

Thanks for reading!

☀️Love & Wrecker Hugs☀️

Sunshine

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#Sunshine's Ice Cream Truck #Sunshine Follower Milestone #Sunshine Follower Event #fan fiction #rare clones #rare clone fics #sunshine writes #star wars #the clone wars #clone wars #rare clone x reader #star wars the clone wars #clone trooper comet #tcw comet #the wolfpack #comet tcw

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idksmtms · 3 days

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long story short (Cillian Murphy x reader) - evermore series

A/N: Surprise oneshot in honour of my being back! I’ve been wanting to write a cute and kind of fun story recently and the idea I had for this gave me inspiration. Also, I tried to write this in a more natural tone, like the way I might actually talk, so let me know what you thought of that style! I hope you enjoy it!

P.s. This is shorter than like every other piece I’ve written on here but I kinda love it hehehe.

Summary: Your boyfriend takes you out on a date and asks a question that leads to an absurd conversation.

Word count: 1,515

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, men being icky (but not Cillian obvi), just funny made up bad date stories, not proofread but they never are (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: This is written purely for fictional purposes and for the sake of writing. No disrespect is intended to the real people portrayed/concerned in this scenario.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

“Alright, what’s a bad date you’ve been on, then?” Cillian asked, sipping from his wine glass and raising an eyebrow at you. You laughed heartily, most likely much too loud for this rather dark and ambient restaurant. You leaned back in your chair, clutched your stomach, and beamed at him.

“I have too many stories, my love,” you jokingly wiped at your eye and he just shook his head, rolling his eyes with a smile before reaching across the table to try and grab your hand. You slipped it quickly into his, grinning as he began stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Go on then, darling, tell me one at least,” he urged, pulling gently on each one of your fingers.

“Ok, ok,” you sighed, using your other hand to push your hair over your shoulder. You learned forward onto your elbows and smiled.

“I’m excited to hear it now,” he chimed in, and you began giggling again. Gosh, he just made you so giddy without even trying.

“Ok, so, about three years before I met you, I was on Hinge and I was chatting with this guy, Eddie, and he was cute and all, not amazing, but I guess we got along. Anyway, he asked to meet up and I kinda said ‘fuck it, sure’ because - to be honest - I was bored. First red flag was that he wanted to pick me up from my house, which I was like ‘no way, no thanks, you don’t get to know where I live yet’. But anyway, he wanted to take me to laser tag! I mean, I thought about it in two ways, because on the one hand that could be really fun and it was such a unique date idea, but then on the other hand it was so weird. Like how were we supposed to talk and see if our personalities matched if we were too busy trying to shoot people?” You threw your hands up in the air as you huffed and you noticed the little cheeky grin on Cillian’s face.

You had always been a bit of a rambler. You liked to talk it seemed, and you had an awful habit of including unnecessary details into stories. You somehow started three other stories within the original and you never realised until you saw that little smile on Cillian’s face and realised you had begun to veer away again. He always told you he loved it. He always said that his favourite activity was to just sit next to you and listen to the millions of stories you had to tell and the little random details you always added, or the gossip you were much too excited to share with anyone close to you, but it always left you a bit bashful. You knew your tendency to just talk and talk and talk and it made you a little insecure sometimes.

“Sorry, irrelevant, anyway,” you took a deep breath in and reached forward to hold his hand again. “So I agreed to it, and I am not kidding when I tell you that this man spent the entire time chasing other people and shooting them as if he was actually in a war. I mean, full on sprinting and grunting and just yelling in victory every time he shot someone. Cilli, I am not even joking, he even came and shot me and I sat outside the hall until the end of the timeslot - half an hour by the way - waiting for this man. I was shell shocked! He took me to some cafe, ate like everything on the menu which, I mean, no wonder, he had just gone to war in there. Long story short, I blocked his number and unmatched him and prayed I would never see him again.”

You let out a long sigh as Cillian chuckled, deep and jovial, your favourite sound. He dropped his head and shook it as he laughed, and when he looked up again there was a pink glow to his cheeks which made you beam. You reached out and gently ran your fingers over the apple of his cheek and those sharp cheekbones of his, before tucking some of the longer strands of his hair behind his ear.

“God, that’s hilarious,” he breathed deeply, sipping from his wineglass to try and catch his breath.

“It was not. I mean, it is now, but at the time I was just shocked and confused and angry because like what the fuck??” You furrowed your brows and kind of shook your head because it seemed obvious that that was a shit idea.

“You said there were other ones,” he began, clearing his throat, “what’s another horrendous date you’ve been on?”

“Hm, let me think about it,” you purse your lips, and tilt your head to the side, eyes to the ceiling. “Oh! Ok, I thought of one. This one was quite bad, actually. I was in my first year of university, so I was like nineteen at the time, and one of my friends - it was Cath, actually! Yeah! So Cath knew this guy. He had gone to sixth form with her but like they weren’t close, they just kind of knew each other from there. Anyway, he was in one of my societies and we got to talking and he asked me out to a cafe and I was like ‘yeah! Sure!’ I mean this was the uni experience, right? Like go out with boys and just have fun? At this point, I didn’t really know if he was aloof or a douche because one time when we had seen him on campus, he just pretended he didn’t know her, even though they’ve literally spoken many times before. I mean, she reasoned that maybe he just didn’t notice her or he didn’t realise it was her, but like she literally waved at him and he just blanked her. Anywayyyy, we went to the cafe and at first it was fine, like we had surface chat and just kinda talked about society stuff, but then I mentioned that I was friends with Cath because she lived in my building and we got along quite well. I kid you not, this man then went on a twenty minute rant about how he absolutely hated her because one of Cath’s friends, not even Cath but one of her friends, went out with him in sixth form once but then never again and she never told him why she stopped talking to him, but then he found out from someone that it was because she thought he smelled and had questionable hygiene!” Cillian pressed a hand to his mouth to control his laugh, eyes squinted as he chuckled uncontrollably.

Your face now hurt from smiling because it was rare for him to laugh so deeply and unabashedly. Though he was quite free with his smiles and enjoyed a good chuckle as much as the next person, he was rather stoic at times, and when you had first started dating you weren’t sure of how he felt most of the time. While you slowly came to learn the little nuances that exposed his emotions, your life’s mission was to make him laugh as much as you always did.

“Cillian, how did he have so much to say that he ranted for twenty minutes?! How?!” You laughed, eyes wide. “I mean, I sat there, mouth open, listening to this boy complain endlessly about a girl from sixth form. Like bro, please move on, because she clearly did. Oh my god, and you know what the worst part is??”

“What?” He wheezed out, pressing a hand to his abdomen as he laughed.

“He actually did smell!” You began cackling, pressing your forehead down to the table as you laughed and laughed and laughed.

At this point you were sure people were looking at both of you, wondering what was wrong that you were both laughing like hysterical children, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“That is horrendous,” he finally breathed out, wiping at the corners of his eyes as his body shook with residual trembles of laughter. Every time you looked at each other, you began spluttering again and it took you at least five minutes to try and gather yourselves again.

“Believe me, it was,” you sighed exaggeratedly before chuckling and shaking your head.

Both of you sat there for a few minutes, relishing in the silence. He reached out to hold your hand and smiled down at the table, again just gently stroking your fingers and palms until your entire arm quivered from the ticklish little touches.

“So, long story short,” you began in a whisper, “they were all the wrong guys, but then I met this gorgeous Irish man, who took me for a picnic, and listened to everything I had to say, and asked me out again, and again, and again-”

“Long story short, I met the love of my life,” he interrupted, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing it.

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3-2-whump · 22 hours

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(Re)Living a Nightmare, part 3

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Well, you made it this far, so I guess I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. Heed the tags, decide for yourself.

Basic Summary if You Decide to Skip, or if You Skipped the Previous Installments

Thanks goes out to @whumped-by-glitter my beta reader and angst advisor for helping me out when I got stuck on this one!

TW/CW: blood (lots of it), rape/noncon aftermath, hypovolemic shock, medical whump, stitches (not described in detail), emotional whump, guilty whumper, whumper grows a conscience (?)

Thomas stared at his bloodied hands, at the bloodied knife, at the mess of reopened scars on Khaled’s bloody back below him. The air stank heavily of blood like a slaughter house, and the only audible sound was a faint yet desperate murmuring. “I didn’t kill him…I didn’t kill him…I didn’t kill him…”

What have I done?

The knife fell to the floor with a clatter as Thomas quickly untied Khaled’s hands. He rolled the boy onto his side, unsticking his front from the cooling blood that had pooled between him and the table top. The small, broken body felt unusually cold under his hands. “Boy, hey –Khaled?” He pulled the torn strip of t-shirt away from his neck and ripped off the blindfold to see glassy, unfocused, tear-reddened eyes. “Khaled, talk to me,” Thomas begged. He raised a hand to lightly slap the boy’s cheek, but lowered it when he saw his lower face painted in blood, saliva, snot, and tears. The dainty golden septum ring in his broken nose gleamed an accusatory red under the cellar lights.

“I didn’t kill him…I didn’t kill him…” Khaled murmured through a ruined throat.

“I know, I know, shh, shh, I know,” Thomas whispered. Of course, Khaled didn’t kill his squad or his brother, and neither did that kid. And he was so close to repeating history and murdering another innocent boy –Thomas thought he would be sick.

“I didn’t kill him…” Khaled whimpered.

“I know you didn’t kill him,” Thomas replied, his own voice becoming gravelly with emotion. He fumbled for his cellphone, disregarding the bloodstains he would get on his clothes by digging through his pockets. Once he found it, he scrolled to a familiar name in his contacts and pressed ‘call.’

Lenore picked up after only two rings, answering with a brusque greeting. “What?”

“Don’t ask too many questions, but do you have any openings at your clinic right now?” Thomas asked, trying to keep his composure as he talked. “It’s Khaled, I think I hurt him bad.”

A static-laced sigh, then a response. “You know the only questions I ask clients are medically related ones. Now, what are we dealing with here?”

“Um, blood loss –like, a lot of blood loss,” Thomas felt the need to clarify. He took a steadying breath before listing off the rest of the injuries. “Deep lacerations, broken nose,” –his eyes wandered down to the blood trickling out of Khaled’s hole – “nothing too obvious after that, from the looks of it.”

“How is his heart rate? His breathing?” Lenore asked, before directing, “Look at his tongue, the area under his eyes, his skin, do they look pale to you?”

Thomas took the time to check these things, ever more concerned at how limply Khaled accepted his touches. He still had that distant look in his eyes, and even though no sound came out, his pale lips still formed the words ‘I didn’t kill him’ over and over.

Thomas readdressed the doctor. “His heart rate is fast, his breathing is too, and yeah, he is very pale all over. Should I bring him to you?”

“No,” she answered. “I’m gonna call you an ambulance, it’ll be quicker.”

Thomas sighed. He cast a worried glance at the catatonic boy lying on the table. He’d rather not get any of the local hospitals involved, but Lenore said it would be quicker, which meant they were on a time sensitive crunch. Did he really hurt the kid that badly?

“Thomas!”

He was not aware she was speaking to him. “S-sorry, what?” he mumbled into the phone.

“Where are you located?” she repeated.

“At the old house, you know the one.” He listed off the address for her in case she did not. As soon as she hung up with a promise to call an ambulance, he put his phone back in his pocket and refocused his attentions on the boy. Khaled had stopped muttering, at least, and now he slumped against the table as his eyelids began to droop closed.

“Oh, baby –come here.” The boss shed his coat and draped it over the boy’s sliced-up back. It was already ruined with blood stains anyway; what were a few more? Now with his wounds covered, Thomas scooped Khaled into his arms and carried him up the stairs, far away from the T & I cellar that would spark too many unwanted questions from the EMTs.

“And you’re saying… a ‘mountain bike accident’ caused this?”

Med student Vikash Gill received a reprimanding side-eye from his supervisor, who was obviously not happy with his tone. But what Vik was unhappy about was this young man, coming in stark naked with a bloodied face and a back carved open like a Thanksgiving turkey, and this older man, who obviously looked like he had money and power and some sort of relationship with the patient.

“He crashed his bike, in the mountains,” the older man repeated, his tone clipped and concise.

The young man beside him remained silent, hardly even acknowledging his surroundings. Something was wrong with this picture… Vik lowered his skeptical gaze back to his chart again. “Well, it seems the EMTs already gave him a transfusion, reset his broken nose, and stopped the major wounds from bleeding on the way here,” he assessed, “so it looks like we’ll just have to give him some stitches. May I confer with my supervisor for a minute?”

The man waved him off, which was all the permission Vikash needed to disappear outside the examination room and discuss what he had just seen.

Dr. Helen Kimura commanded a powerful air of authority, despite only standing as high as her young student’s chest. “What was that?” she demanded, squinting up at him through her glasses. Vik had to swallow down his instant defense mechanism; he felt like he was being scolded by his mother. “You know we don’t use that kind of tone with our patients!”

“You and I also know that no ‘biking accident’ caused those injuries!” Vikash argued. “Didn’t you see those bruises? What kind of ‘biking accident’ causes bruises like those?!”

Dr. Kimura rubbed her brow as she took a breath to compose herself. “Look, you’re new to this city, Vik, so I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt that you don’t know who that man is,” she began, “but that man in there –that’s Thomas Costa. You know, of the insurance group? The guy that owns like a third of this city? Big time philanthropist, donates his massive fortune to the arts and sciences and medicine.” She paused, eyebrows raised, waiting for her young pupil to catch the drift.

Whether Vik didn’t catch it, or just didn’t care, he bullheadedly continued. “But, we have to do something,” he insisted with conviction, “we’re-”

“We are doctors, not detectives,” Kimura interrupted, an authoritative finality in her words. “You want to do something? You patch that kid up, along with all Costa’s other men, and you send them on their way, no questions asked!”

A hint of fear flickered behind his supervisor’s eyes. Vik gulped nervously, casting a glance at the examination room they just left. “How much did he donate to this hospital?” he whispered.

Kimura refused to answer.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Thomas watched the med student stitch up Khaled’s back. All this time waiting and watching left him alone with his thoughts, and his thoughts went to places he didn’t want them to go.

He lost himself back there, lost control –no, that was just an excuse. He wanted to lose himself, wanted to pin everything on that boy, but Khaled had nothing to do with it. Admittedly, it felt good to take out all that pent-up emotion, all that grief, anger, and despair, to finally channel all that toxicity and pain out from himself and dump it somewhere else –onto someone else.

He glanced at the boy he had bought nearly seven years ago. He remembered the scared child who could barely look him in the eyes. Now, nearly seven years later, the boy stared tiredly at him through tear-stained eyes. It seemed the child was right to fear him in the past, considering how close he came to killing him in the present.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas murmured. He reached over to hold Khaled’s hands in his. The rope burns brought unnecessary attention to the tattoos on his boy’s wrists, lining the black bands top to bottom with angry red chafe marks. Khaled made no effort to pull his hands away as a pair of dark eyes stared into his, uncertain and guarded behind their lashes. He cringed a little, sensing only a fraction of the damage he’d done to his key to redemption, not just this one time, but over years and years of using the boy as a punching bag and a fleshlight. “I am so, so sorry,” he repeated, a little louder.

“You’re sorry?” Khaled hollowly repeated. A rough, scratchy sound scraped out of the boy’s ruined throat. Even the act of laughing sounded painful for him. “Did you smash my head against the table harder than I’d realized? Since when do you apologize, Master?”

Over his shoulder, the med student’s eyes widened a hair as he determinedly continued his work behind them. Thomas had to regain control of the situation, spin the narrative. “I owe you a much more specific apology when we get home, I’ll admit,” he replied, hinting at the unsuspecting stranger patching up the boy’s back. “But for now, all I’ll say is that I went too far. I realize that now, and for that, I am sorry.”

Khaled gave him a skeptical frown, but remained silent. His thinking face was on, with his eyebrows drawn and his eyes slightly narrowed, chewing his lower lip subtly between his teeth. The young med student behind him had finally finished the stitches and applied the new gauze. He rattled off a list of care tips and recommendations to follow to take care of the wounds and prevent complications before hurriedly leaving the two alone. Thomas lifted Khaled off the table and helped him change into the spare clothes the hospital had on hand for emergencies. “Can I, um, get you anything?” he asked awkwardly, finally pulling the ugly secondhand sweater over Khaled’s bandaged torso.

The boy finally answered after a thoughtful moment. “…Nico…”

The gate guard? Thomas wondered. Honestly, not how he expected the boy to answer that question at all. He then felt a slight pang of guilt when he remembered Nico was the only friend his slave ever had. “You want to see your friend again?”

A small nod.

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugged, “I’m sure I could make that happen.”And even though he had no reason to lean on him of all people, Khaled leaned onto the boss’ arm, resting his head on his shoulder as Thomas led them out.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood

#whump writing #tw blood #tw rape/noncon aftermath #medical whump #tw blood loss #tw stitches #emotional whump #guilty whumper #whumper develops a conscience! more details at 11 #is it any wonder i went on a fluff writing binge after this?

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