#i'll post it on ao3 later but for now i must eat something
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one day i'll feel alright (joel miller x reader) 18+
here it is... the Big One. i've been hyping up this part of my soft!dom joel series for a while now (probably too much, i'm sorry) but i'm so excited to finally share it with you guys. i just wanna note that this is not the end of soft!dom joel by any means. i wanna keep writing for these two as long as i can, just probably nothing else as long as this lmao 💖 enjoy! | masterlist
summary: joel must finally face his demons when you don't return from patrol.
rating: 18+ explicit
warnings: fem!reader, age difference (reader is mid 20s, joel mid 50s), dom/sub dynamics (joel is dominant but not degrading or aggressive), hurt/comfort, angst, praise kink, dirty talk, bathing together, oral (both f and m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, size kink, orgasm denial, comeplay, come eating, yall this one is SO filthy be warned
word count: 15k | ao3
spoilers: this contains vague spoilers for part two of the video game (and most likely for season two of the show). nothing too major (joel does NOT go golfing in this fic).
The patrol schedule is posted on Monday morning outside the community center and you're one of the first people to look at it, eyes frantically scanning for your name as your heart pounds in your chest. There's no way, you think to yourself, still searching, He wouldn't actually talk to Tommy about a schedule change.
You finally find your name and feel those annoyingly familiar angry tears begin to burn in your eyes.
"Fuck you," you mutter under your breath, shaking your head, "Fuck you, Joel."
You're no longer his patrol partner.
You briefly consider going to his house, pounding on his door until he answers and screaming in his face about how ridiculous and immature he's being, but you realize that doing so would make you just as immature. Instead, you just decide to pretend it never happened, like you never patrolled with him to begin with.
"Steve is nice," one of your friends says to you later, "I like him, you'll get along."
Who the fuck is Steve? you want to ask, but then remember that it's his name that has replaced Joel's on the schedule. To make matters even worse, you're no longer going up to the ski lodge and are instead going out past the perimeter, a patrol location known to encounter raiders pretty often. Fantastic.
--
The next time you see him is that night in the dining hall, sitting in his usual corner by himself and gulping down bites of chili like he hasn't eaten in weeks. It used to be endearing, those big bites, now it just pisses you off.
He doesn't look at you. Over the past few weeks you'd grown accustomed to him peering over at you every so often, giving you small smiles to acknowledge that he saw you and remembered what the two of you shared every weekend. Neither of you would talk about it; it was private and belonged on the mountain, which you were fine with. At least he'd give you those looks, those smiles, and remind you that you were his pretty girl, his little secret.
Now his lack of acknowledgement, his purposeful ignorance of your presence, it makes you feel sick. You end up having to excuse yourself before you do something you'll regret. Like punch someone.
--
Steve is nice, but that's your first immediate problem with him. He's too nice. He talks too much, constantly trying to fill a silence that doesn't need it, asks you way too many questions and doesn't seem even vaguely put-out when you give him the most basic possible answers. He's young, probably in his mid-thirties, and you find yourself desperately missing the long and comfortable silences you shared with Joel, his gruff sighs, his breathy chuckles, his music, his books, his age. You realize pretty quickly that you view Steve as a boy and not a man, despite him being older than you. Internally, you tell yourself you need to get a grip.
Your new patrol location isn't as bad as you'd first thought; you're stationed in an abandoned cabin in a wooded area past the perimeter. It's cozy and inviting, kind of reminds you of the ski lodge, which quickly makes you feel depressed. You both take turns circling the area - although at first Steve had suggested you do it together; you'd vetoed that immediately. Your main responsibilities are checking traps and watching out for infected. It's actually a bit more engaging than your previous patrol which you feel slightly grateful for; it's nice to feel busy. And to shut your thoughts up.
At the end of your first patrol with Steve you both walk back to Jackson together in the early morning, him still continuing to chat and tell you things about himself regardless of whether you respond. You're almost back to town when you notice that you're suddenly on the same path you and Joel used to take, the one that leads up to the mountain. You stop in your tracks.
"What time is it?" you ask, interrupting whatever Steve had been prattling on about.
He looks down at his watch, "Almost six," he smiles at you, "We'll be back just in time for breakfast."
Almost six; around the time you and Joel would usually be reaching the bottom of the mountain. Your eyes scan the tree line, brow furrowing as you search for any sign of him making his way down the path. Steve stands there awkwardly, waiting for you to say something.
"Should we...?" he gestures toward the path you're both on, toward town, and you bite your lip in thought.
"Just gimme a sec," you say quickly, still searching, "I wanna say hi to my old patrol partner."
"Aw, that's sweet," he says with a smile, and it's so earnest and endearing that you can't necessarily be annoyed, "My old patrol partner, we-" he starts chatting again, buying you some more time.
Not more than a moment later, two figures suddenly emerge from the trees: Joel and Tommy. You feel your heart start to pound as they walk down the path, neither seeing you and Steve standing there until they're almost directly in front of you. They're caught up in some kind of deep conversation, you might even call it an argument judging by Tommy's stiffness and Joel's flared nostrils.
Tommy sees you first, giving you a wave and a smile, then nudging Joel. Joel follows Tommy's eyeline and suddenly freezes in his tracks, standing still on the path while Tommy continues to approach you.
"Good patrol?" he asks, nodding to Steve, "No trouble?"
"No, sir," Steve says, eager and polite, kind of like a golden retriever puppy, "No problems whatsoever."
"Glad to hear it," he looks at you again, "Hey, mind if we meet later for a chat?"
You wonder if he wants to chat about whatever he'd just been arguing about with Joel. Intrigued, you nod, "Sure."
Joel reaches you then, pace slow and hesitant. You turn to look at him, trying not to let the anger you feel toward him completely overtake you; the last thing you need right now is to either start crying or yelling.
"Hey," you say with a stiff nod.
"Hi!" Steve says beside you, and you try not to wince as he puts his hand out, waiting for Joel to take it, "I'm Steve."
Joel simply stares at him, then his hand, and then looks at you, eyes dark and cold. His gaze slips between the two of you back and forth for a few seconds, expression unreadable, then continues down the path without speaking.
"Meet me by the stream 'round noon, alright?" Tommy says, backing away to follow Joel, "I'll bring you lunch."
You watch as he catches up to Joel, says something to him, but Joel doesn't respond and just keeps on walking ahead, pace quicker and quicker. You're still just standing there watching their forms get smaller when Steve finally speaks again:
"He's...uh...friendly."
You laugh without humor, hitching your pack up your shoulder and starting to walk, "Oh, you have no idea."
--
You meet Tommy around noon by the stream like he'd asked, crossing the bridge and giving him a small wave of acknowledgement as you approach. He's got a paper bag with him; lunch, just like he'd promised.
"Tuna fish," he says with a kind smile, chuckling at the face you make as he hands the bag to you, "It was either that or egg salad."
"The dining hall must stink today," you reply with a scrunch of your nose, but you take the bag gratefully, "Thanks, Tommy."
"No problem," he gestures toward the bench he's sitting on, inviting you to join him, "Let's talk."
He talks and you mainly listen, nodding along every so often and chewing your tuna sandwich thoughtfully. He starts by thanking you for "everything" you did for him and Maria, which you quickly dodge because all you'd done is take a patrol off his hands - a patrol that's gone back to being his again, but he doesn't mention that part. He talks about how big a help you've been, how he's glad you're here, all the basic stuff he's already told you before. You're almost done your sandwich when you realize he's talking complete bullshit.
"Tommy," you say, balling the paper bag up and shoving it into your pocket, "If you wanna talk about Joel, just do it."
He freezes, recognition dawning in his eyes as he sighs and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. It's a habit he and Joel share, and you can't help but feel an ache in your heart when the image of Joel doing the same thing crosses your mind.
"I'm sorry about the switch," he finally says with a deep sigh, "Joel told me to do it. Not asked, told. He was pretty obstinate, told me it wasn't workin' between you two anymore and he wasn't gonna stay on ski lodge if you were there."
The words sting, even coming from Tommy. You swallow the last of your sandwich and cast your eyes down to the stream, watching the water ebb and flow as Tommy continues to speak.
"I just want you know that if I had it my way, you'd still be up there with him," he says it earnestly, and you understand now why he'd led with all the compliments and reassurances; he'd thought you didn't know why you'd been switched.
"I know," you say quietly, "Tommy, I know it was Joel's idea. He told me last patrol that he was gonna ask you to take me off ski lodge."
"But why?" he sounds genuinely confused, "It was working so well, Maria and I thought you had a great thing goin'."
You nod slowly, refusing to look at him, "We did. But I guess he never told you any details?"
You sense him shake his head beside you, "No, I spent almost the whole patrol trying to get him to talk about it and he wouldn't. Just kept saying it wouldn't work anymore and that he wasn't gonna say anythin' else about it. Stubborn, my brother. Always has been."
I know, you want to say, believe me, I know.
"So I figured I'd ask you."
You finally look over at him then, "There's not much to say, Tommy."
"But there's somethin'," he leans forward, looking concerned, "I know my brother, I know when he's hidin' somethin'. There's somethin' he's not telling me and I want you to tell me 'cause otherwise I'm just gonna assume the worst."
"Which is...?"
He sighs, leaning back against the bench again, "I don't even know."
You touch the back of your neck awkwardly, trying to decide how to word it. There's absolutely no way you're giving him all the details - or any details for that matter - but you do owe him some kind of explanation considering he's now losing his free time again over this.
"Me and Joel, we..." you bite your lip, "We had...." you sigh and shake your head, "Okay, what I'm about to say does not leave this bench, Tommy. You can tell Maria but that's it."
"Oh shit," he says, eyes going wide, "Were y'all fuckin' up there?"
You groan, leaning forward as your arms fall to your knees and you cover your face with your hands. He's not necessarily correct, but somehow the reality is much more embarrassing to admit. You don't say anything in response, confirming his suspicions.
"Jesus Christ," he says, voice full of genuine surprise, "I was...holy shit, I was not expectin' that."
"Anyway," you say into your hands, skin turning bright red beneath your fingertips, "It's over now and he doesn't want me up there with him anymore, that's all you need to know, okay?"
"Yeah," Tommy says immediately, "Yeah, sure, of course. I wouldn't dream of -" he makes a weird noise, "God, I did not think that's what was goin' on."
"Sorry," you wince, pulling your hands away and sitting up again to look at him. He looks genuinely uncomfortable, arms crossed as he shifts next to you on the bench, cogs turning in his mind. He's probably thinking about what exactly the two of you have been doing up there when you're supposed to be patrolling and the very thought makes both of you cringe simultaneously.
"No, don't apologize, I asked," he shakes his head again, eyes still wide, "I, uh, I won't tell anybody, no worries."
"You can tell Maria," you reiterate, "I don't want you keeping anything from your wife."
"I'll tell her but I doubt she'll believe me," he's staring ahead, still in shock, "You? With Joel? I'm sorry but..." he laughs loudly, still shaking his head, "I didn't think my brother had it in him."
You make a face and stand up, "Okay, that's my cue to leave."
"No, sorry, I'll leave," he stands up as well and digs his hands down into his pockets awkwardly, "I'll uh... be at the bar, if you need me."
He goes to cross the bridge but stops halfway, turning slowly and giving you one last kind and gentle look, apologetic.
"Hey, I'm sorry it didn't work out," he says, and you can tell he means it, "You're real sweet, my brother's just an ass."
"I know," you say with a small nod, "You did warn me."
"I did," he says it sadly, looking down at the stream, "He has his reasons, though. Maybe he'll tell you one day."
"Maybe."
He turns back around and walks away, leaving you standing there alone by the stream with an ache in your heart that won't go away.
He was pretty obstinate, Tommy's words echo in your head, told me it wasn't workin' between you two anymore and he wasn't gonna stay on ski lodge if you were there.
You stare at the steady flowing water and try not to think about how much it hurts to know he really said that to Tommy. Is that how little you mean to him? How little what the two of you shared meant? You've known the whole time that it wasn't a "real" relationship, you haven't even kissed him for god's sake, but it was a relationship nonetheless. A little weird, a little timid, but soft and new and safe and warm. And all along you'd just been a distraction for him.
In the deepest parts of yourself you've known this all along, remembered how many times in the past few weeks he said that it would be the last time, that he couldn't do it anymore, and you'd just continued to persist and persist until he'd finally had enough. You hadn't really thought he'd end it, didn't think he really meant it.
The tears start flowing before you can stop them. You continue to just stand there dejectedly, staring at the water and trying to figure out what exactly it is about you that made him simply stop caring - if he even cared to begin with.
A rustle of branches makes you jump and your head snaps up, looking toward the sound. A short distance away you catch a bush moving in an unnatural sort of way, shaking back and forth like someone had been watching from behind it. Quickly, you dash forward and pull the leaves apart to find the culprit.
No one's there.
Hurriedly you wipe your face and walk across the bridge, shoving your hands back in your pockets and hoping someone hasn't just witnessed your moment of weakness. And if they have, they'd better keep it to themselves.
--
Another week passes without any acknowledgement from Joel. You decide to stop eating in the dining hall because it hurts too much, instead grabbing your meals to-go and eating them either in your house or by the stream. On one occasion you'd arrived at the stream at the same time Ellie had decided to sit and practice guitar, freezing in place when you saw her. You hadn't spoken since that one very brief conversation months ago when she'd asked about your scars. You hadn't known then what you know now.
"Hey," she'd said with a nod, then went back to strumming aimlessly on her guitar, "You can eat your lunch here, I don't mind."
You'd shaken your head and taken a step back, "No, that's okay, sorry," then you'd turned and practically run away from her, not entirely sure why.
She reminds you of Joel, you dummy, you'd thought to yourself on the walk back home, biting down on your lip and trying to keep the tears at bay this time. Everything reminds you of Joel.
--
On Saturday morning you hear a knock at your door. You're still in bed, confused and bleary eyed as you sit up and wait to hear it again, just to be sure you're not still dreaming. When you hear a second series of knocks you practically tumble out of the bed and run downstairs, blanket trailing behind you as you dart to the front door.
It's Joel, it has to be Joel, he's here to apologize, he's gonna kiss you and tell you he's sorry.
You yank open the door and feel your face fall immediately when you see none other than Steve standing there, hands on his hips. He grins at you but it falters slightly when he looks down and sees that you're still in your pajamas.
"Morning, sleepy head," he greets you, reaching forward to playfully bump your arm with his fist, "Looks like someone missed their alarm."
You stare at him, vision still slightly blurred from sleep. You reach up to rub your eyes so you can see him clearer, make sure he's actually standing there in front of you. Yup, he is.
You force yourself to smile back - something which takes a lot of effort but he seems to find genuine - and reply, "My bad, I guess I did."
"No worries," he says with another wide grin, "We got some time before we need to leave, no rush!"
You force one last smile and shut the door in his face, trying not to slam it - even though you really want to. You look at the clock on the wall over your fireplace and make a face: 4:30. He woke you up at 4:30, half an hour before your alarm.
"Steve, I swear to god," you grumble to yourself, heading for the bathroom as you drop your blanket to the floor and clamor back up the stairs; there's no point in going back to sleep, you're wide awake now and pissed.
You know who'd never do this? Joel.
After a shower and a quick bowl of cereal you head back out to meet Steve, prepared to put on your best everything is great impression again. You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you open your door.
"Listen, sir, I think you should leave," Steve is saying, voice cracking slightly as he talks to the figure in front of him.
It's still dark outside; the sun hasn't come up yet and everything is muted and hard to make out. It takes you a few seconds to figure out who Steve is talking to, the figure shrouded in shadow and half hidden behind Steve's tall form. You feel your face go pale when you hear him reply.
"You didn't answer my question," the growl is unmistakably Joel's and you grip the edge of the door in your hands tightly, not opening it all the way as you eavesdrop. What the fuck is he doing here? What question?
"I don't think I owe you a reply," Steve replies, attempting to stand his ground but sounding pretty pathetic, voice shaky and high, "I think you should move along, sir."
"What the fuck are you doing at this girl's house at four in the fucking morning?" Joel practically spits, taking a step toward Steve. In response, Steve takes a step backward. He's not a confrontational guy, you know that from the one patrol you've spent with him, "Answer me."
"I'm her patrol partner," Steve finally says, putting his hands up in defeat, "I'm waiting for her to get ready."
"Patrols don't start 'til five thirty."
"It's true, I swear, you literally met me last week!"
That seems to stump Joel, and he must be trying to figure out what to say next when you shove the door open and walk out onto your porch.
"Joel, what the fuck are you doing?" you ask, voice steady and firm. He looks over at you in surprise, backing away from Steve. Is it just your imagination or did his expression soften when he saw you? But that doesn't matter now.
You walk down the steps of your patio and stand in front of Steve, shoving him behind you lightly, "Steve, I'll meet you at the gate," you say firmly.
"But-"
"Steve. Please leave. I'll meet you in a few minutes."
"...Okay," you can't see him but you hear him walk away from you, trudging down the gravel path in the opposite direction. Once his footsteps are faint enough, you finally address Joel again.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" you repeat, "Why are you berating Steve in front of my house?"
"Who the fuck is Steve?" Joel asks; the question of the hour.
"My patrol partner," you reply, shaking your head, "I mean, you should probably know that seeing as you're the one who switched with him."
"I don't know who I switched with, Tommy did that," he retorts, looking away from you, down at his boots, "Wasn't my decision."
"Right, 'cause nothing's ever your fault, right?"
He looks back up, a glint of emotion in his eyes that you've seen only once before, "You have no fucking idea," he says, voice heavy and gruff, "Don't even-"
"Don't even what, Joel? You're the one standing in front of my house at the ass crack of dawn yelling at some guy you've never even talked to before. Steve's actually great, by the way," you're laying it on thick but you don't care; you want him to think you've moved on, "Patrolling with him is much better than patrolling with you."
He raises an eyebrow, "Is that so?"
"Yeah," you lie, cheeks going red with anger, "He actually talks to me."
"And fucks you, I gather?" he says it with a hard edge that makes your blood run cold.
You stand there just staring at him, mouth agape as he lets what he just said wash over you. You inhale and exhale deeply, feeling those godforsaken tears sting in your eyes as you take a step away from him, genuinely fearful that you might end up slapping him or punching him or doing something you shouldn't.
"Fuck you," your voice is small and broken and the tears are already flowing, "Fuck you, Joel."
His expression changes then, and you know an apology is coming. You put your hand up before he can speak, shaking your head.
"Don't," you say, firm and solid, not bothering to wipe your tears as they flick off your face into the grass below, "We're done." You turn on your heel and stomp away from him, feeling a sob wrack through you as you cross your arms and speed walk to the main gate where you know Steve is waiting.
Joel doesn't follow you.
--
Steve knows better than to question you about what happened. As soon as you'd approached him at the gate he'd seen your tears and the shake of your head when he'd opened his mouth to say something. Ten minutes later you were on your way out to the cabin again without either of you saying a word.
Now you're back on patrol with an aching heart and a huge lump in your throat that won't go away no matter what you do, trailing the perimeter back and forth with your head hung and eyes downcast. Joel's words repeat over and over in your head like a curse, damning you into a feeling of guilt that you don't think you really deserve. You haven't done shit with Steve, the assumption that you'd just immediately moved on from your sexual relationship with Joel to another man makes your blood boil. Who the fuck does he think you are?
Do you really even know him? This whole time he's remained so secretive and aloof, mysterious and cryptic. You hadn't pushed him to reveal more about himself, hoping eventually he'd open up to you, but he never did. Just kept you on a short leash with good girl and pretty girl and the way he'd look at you in those moments where you bared yourself to him.
But you're not much better, you remind yourself with a grimace, and you know it's true. You never told him much about yourself or your past. Yes, you would've, but you didn't. And you're the one who kept asking to get off with him, kept expecting more and being disappointed when he wouldn't give it to you even though he was clear about his boundaries.
"But that doesn't give him the right," you mutter to yourself, still walking through the muddy grass, deep in thought, "It doesn't make what he said okay."
No, it doesn't. But maybe he's hurting more than he lets on. Maybe this isn't as cut and dry for him as you'd thought. Why the fuck had he been snooping around your house so early this morning? He only lives a few houses down from you; had he seen Steve and felt he had to protect you? Does he actually care about you, as much as he tries to put on a front that it's only been sexual between you two and nothing more? Is that why he's been so distant?
You suddenly realize that you've gone much further than the perimeter, continuing to walk ahead instead of turning back and circling the area. You freeze, eyes scanning around as you try to discern exactly how far you've gone.
"Fuck," you mutter, turning around and starting to walk directly back the way you came, hoping it'll lead you right back to where you're meant to be.
--
It doesn't.
You'd been so lost in thought that somehow you've managed to lose the original path, the tall grass hiding any sign of your own footsteps. This is only your second time out here so nothing looks familiar; it's all grass and mud and trees and rocks. How long have you even been walking? Joel had once admonished you for not having a watch, said one day it was gonna bite you in the ass; you hate that he was right.
"Steve?" you call out, unsure if he'll be able to hear you since you don't know how far you've trailed from the cabin, "You there?"
No reply. You stop again and do another quick glance around, looking for anything that seems familiar to you. But no, this isn't the ski lodge perimeter where you'd grown accustomed to each tree, each stump, each rock. Nothing here is even vaguely telling you exactly where to turn.
You feel the dull throb of panic beneath the surface of your emotions but you quickly shove it down; you're good in situations like this, you've certainly been through enough shit to not get frightened over being a little lost. You've been lost before, you'll figure it out.
All the same, you keep track of the sun's location in the sky as you continue your directionless trek, noting that it's directly above you; noon. You have plenty of time before dark to find your way back, no sweat.
--
It must be around three o'clock when you finally make it back. Relief floods your entire body as you walk into the clearing and see the small wooden cabin sitting there still and picturesque, exactly how you'd left it. You bend down, closing your eyes and pressing your hands to your knees to take a few deep breaths and ground yourself. The panic had started to really settle in about an hour ago, but luckily it hadn't gotten to a point where you'd been too afraid to keep going.
"Steve," you say loudly, still breathing deeply, "I'm back."
No reply. You open your eyes again, heart still thumping in your chest as you eye the cabin for any sign of him. You walk over hesitantly, feeling a knot forming in your stomach when you open the front door and are greeted to a dark and empty cabin.
"Steve?" you say again, voice shaky.
No reply.
Fuck. He must have gone looking for you when you didn't come back to switch. Either that or he went back to Jackson, but you can't see a guy like Steve doing that. The way he'd stood up to Joel this morning, as embarrassing as it was, it had been enough to show you exactly what kind of man Steve is. He'd definitely gone to look for you. It's only fair that you do the same for him.
You grab a roll of twine from the cabin and start your search, making sure to mark the trees every now and then so you can find your way back again. You'd been advised in your patrol orientation not to do this because of raiders, but you doubt Tommy or Maria will give you shit for making sure you and Steve actually make it back to Jackson alive.
The thought makes the panic start to rise again, but you keep going.
--
You keep hoping you'll find some sign of Steve, but it's been about two hours and nothing has caught your eye. The twine is starting to run out and you fear you'll have to go back to Jackson without him, which will undoubtedly start a panic and a huge search party, all because you got a little distracted. This shit with Joel doesn't even matter anymore - you can't believe you let it affect you how it did. And now Steve is paying the price.
Another hour passes and you're preparing to turn back when you see it out of the corner of your eye. You freeze, hair standing up at the back of your neck when you look down to see shiny droplets of blood painting the grass.
You lean down instinctively, eyes wide, reaching forward to touch one of the many large red drops. It shivers beneath your finger, not yet fully dry. It's fresh.
Without hesitation you stand back up and pull your pistol out of its holster, cocking it and holding it steadily in front of you as you start to walk again. You have absolutely no idea what you're expecting to pop out at you; raiders? Infected? Or maybe Steve just cut himself somehow and you've taken your gun out for nothing.
A loud scream suddenly pierces the silence of the forest.
"STEVE!" you scream back, face going pale as you begin to sprint through the woods, gun still in front of you, "STAY WHERE YOU ARE, I'M COMING."
It's the last thing you say before you suddenly feel something tight grip your ankle and send you flying into the air, gun falling out of your hand. You find yourself completely upside down, entangled in a net.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You sway back and forth in the thick netting, trying to find your gun somewhere below you, but you quickly become much too dizzy to discern absolutely anything. You hear Steve's scream again, further away this time, and your blood runs cold. The panic takes over and you can't speak.
Please, you think to yourself, shutting your eyes tight and trying to keep the dizziness at bay, please don't let me die before I see him again.
It's not Steve you're thinking about.
It doesn't take long for the blood to rush to your head, for your body to go completely numb as you hang there upside down, completely alone. You pass out within minutes.
--
It's pitch black when you wake up.
You're no longer hanging from a tree in the forest, no longer tangled up in a net. Instead, you're lying on what feels like a concrete floor. Your head is pounding, lips dry and parched. Your whole body feels heavy and achy, so much so that you can barely move.
"She's awake," you hear a voice say somewhere close by; it's female and sounds familiar, but not enough for you to place it.
You hear the squeaky hinges of a door opening, then a few hushed whispers that you can't make out. The door shuts again and you swear you hear the sound of a deadbolt being locked in place.
"Where am I?" you finally whisper, voice rough and broken, "Let me go."
"You're in Jackson," the female voice replies, kind and gentle, "You're safe now."
"Who are you?" you can't bring yourself to open your eyes, unsure if this person is really telling you the truth.
"It's Ellie," the voice replies, and recognition dawns on you immediately, "Remember me?"
You nod slowly, wincing at the pain as you continue to lie there on the floor, "Y-yes."
"When you didn't come back this morning they sent out a search party. Tommy found you hanging in a tree, brought you back right away."
This morning? So you must have been hanging there all night. Jesus, no wonder you feel the way you do.
You finally open your eyes then, and are beyond relieved when your vision isn't dizzy and blurry like it had been before you'd passed out. You spot Ellie a few feet away, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, peering down at you with a soft expression.
"Steve?" you whisper.
Her brow furrows, "They found him too. I don't know the details but he was hurt pretty bad," she shakes her head, "They're gonna do everything they can."
You nod again, swallowing and wincing at the dryness of your throat, "C-can I have some water?"
"Oh, fuck, of course," she reaches behind her and grabs a bottle, then walks over to you. Her movements are slow, hesitant, and when she hands you the bottle her arm darts out and back extremely quickly.
You stare at her in confusion, slowly bringing yourself to sit up. She backs away from you again, presses herself against the wall and crosses her arms again. It's like she's feigning nonchalance.
Reality dawns on you.
"Am I bit?" you manage to whisper, clutching the water bottle tightly.
She swallows, looks directly in your eyes, "We're hoping you can answer that for us."
You slowly bring the water to your lips, mind racing. You try to remember anything beyond getting caught up in the net but there's absolutely nothing. If you'd been bit afterward, wouldn't it have woken you up? Wouldn't you feel the pain somewhere on you now?
You drink the entire bottle of water and place it next to you on the floor, then you begin to feel your body, placing your hands back and forth all over yourself and trying to find a particular spot that feels like it might have been bit. You come up blank; all that you feel is a steady ache from being numb for so long.
"I don't think so," you finally say, crossing your legs and bringing your hands to rest in front of you, "I feel okay."
"We only found you about two hours ago," she says softly, "So we weren't sure. This is where they keep people for observation, people who might be infected."
You assess your surroundings. You must be in some kind of shed; it's small and there's no furniture, only a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. If you'd woken up alone you probably would've thought you'd been kidnapped. Your brow furrows and you look over at Ellie in confusion.
"If I might be bit, why are they keeping you in here with me?" you ask, bewildered, "It's not safe for you."
Ellie kicks her heel and shrugs, "I don't know, they just thought you shouldn't be alone when you woke up."
She's lying and you don't know why, but you don't have the energy to press her further. What's important is that you're not alone, and you appreciate that. You watch as she inhales deeply, lost in thought, then brings her fingers to the bridge of her nose and squeezes. Just like Joel.
Joel.
"Does he know?" you suddenly whisper.
You didn't say his name but she clearly knows who you're talking about. She sets her lips in a firm line, "Yeah."
You place your head in your hands and sigh loudly, shutting your eyes tight. You suddenly feel like you want to cry, just at the thought of that big, broad, grumpy man being told that you didn't come back from patrol. Had he been upset? Annoyed? Angry? Scared?
"He's freaking out," Ellie answers for you, voice quiet, "He punched Tommy in the face."
"What?" you stare at her, eyes wide, "Why'd he do that?"
She laughs softly to herself, shaking her head, "Tommy wouldn't let him go with the search party."
Your face scrunches in confusion, "Why not?"
She looks away from you then, eyeing the closed door, "Because Tommy thought his feelings would get in the way," her voice is slightly shaky, like she might cry, "He thought if they found you dead, Joel might not come back, might try to find the motherfuckers who did it and make them pay."
You're already shaking your head, "That's dumb, he wouldn't do that."
Ellie laughs again, turning back to look at you, "You really don't know anything about Joel, do you?"
You stare, waiting for her to speak again. She adjusts her position, slowly sliding down the wall and sitting across from you with her knees pulled up against her chest.
"Joel's killed a lot of people," she says quietly, looking over at you with tired eyes, "I mean, a lot of us have, I'm sure you have too. We've all done shit we're not proud of," she thumbs a tear on her jeans, biting down on her lip, "But when it comes to the people he cares about... Joel doesn't do things halfway, never."
You swallow, "Ellie, I don't think Joel cares about me in the way you're thinking."
She smiles then, small and hesitant, but still a smile, "As I said, you don't really know much about him. Not like I do."
"But-"
She puts a hand up, "I know about the two of you. I overheard you and Tommy talking last week."
You remember that afternoon by the stream, the rustle of the bushes, when you'd pulled the branches back expecting to see someone but found nobody there.
"That was you?" you ask, eyebrows raised, "By the stream?"
She nods, "I showed up to play my guitar and you guys were already there talking. I wasn't gonna listen but then I heard Joel's name and..." she sighs, looking down at her knees, "I might not be talking to Joel right now but I like to know what he's up to."
You nod slowly, "So...you heard about..."
"The mountain, yeah," she makes a face, "Listen, I don't want the details, trust me, but I wasn't surprised when you said that, not the way Tommy was anyway," she giggles, "I love seeing him get all uncomfortable, it's so funny."
You snort, shaking your head, "Please, it was so awkward."
"He really had no idea, but I think I did, somehow," she smiles again, wistful, "As I said, I might not be talking to Joel but that doesn't mean I don't look out for him, watch him, make sure he's doing alright," she looks down again, "I'm not heartless, okay?"
"I know," you say earnestly, "I know you're not."
"I knew something was different with him. He's been so quiet and sad, doesn't talk to people very much anymore, but these past few weeks it was like he had a pep in his step, like the old Joel was coming back," she smiles at the thought, "And then I saw the way he'd look at you in the dining hall, all those little smiles. And at first I was like...gross. But then..." she sighs, shaking her head, "I don't know, I think it's cute how much he likes you. How much you changed him."
Her words elicit a warmth in your chest, soft and safe, like the feeling of being in Joel's presence. You wrap your arms around yourself, huddling forward and continuing to listen.
"We were eating breakfast when Tommy announced the search party this morning. As soon as he said what had happened I looked over at Joel. He looked like he'd just received the worst news of his life," her voice shakes again, like she's on the verge of tears, "He ran up to Tommy, started asking questions about the search, when they were starting, what way they were going, all that. Tommy told him that he couldn't come, they argued, Joel punched Tommy and then I had to practically pull them apart."
"You?" your mouth is agape, "You stopped the fight?"
She nods with another small smile, "As soon as Joel realized it was me pulling on him, he stopped. I told him I knew about what was going on, I said I'd stay with him until you came back safe and sound."
You feel tears prick in your eyes at the words, "That must have meant a lot to him."
"It meant the world to him, I know that," she says quietly, "I haven't talked to him for a long time, I'm sure you know that."
You nod, "I do."
She's silent then for a few moments, staring at the closed door again. When she finally speaks, her voice is shakier than ever, "I sat with him in his living room until they got back with you and Steve. He wanted to see you but they wouldn't let him, so I volunteered to stay with you. That's why I'm here."
She leans back against the wall with a sigh, biting down on her lip. You see tears beginning to brim in her eyes and you look away, knowing you wouldn't want someone staring at you if it was you getting emotional.
"He's lost a lot, you know," she says softly, sniffling a little bit, "He lost his daughter a long time ago, and a woman named Tess he really cared about," she takes a breath, shaky and full of emotion, "He almost lost me, too. That's part of the reason we're not talking."
You stare at the concrete floor, letting her words sink in. A daughter? Joel had been a father? And Tess, who was she? A girlfriend? A wife? Clearly someone important, and he'd lost both of them.
You've been through your share of trauma, experienced your own losses, but never to that degree. You'd never gotten close enough to someone to really feel a loss like that, can't even imagine what it would feel like. Your heart aches for him; that stoic, quiet, and mysterious man who'd let you in but kept you at arm's length... for reasons you're beginning to understand.
You stand up slowly, wincing at the aches you feel, your skin feeling prickly and uncomfortable as your circulation continues to regulate. Ellie's words cycle through your mind as you stretch, ringing quiet and tender in your ears; I think it's cute how much he likes you. How much you changed him.
"When can I see him?" you ask softly, still avoiding looking at her as you pull at parts of your clothes, searching again for a bite you're pretty sure doesn't exist.
"I'll ask Maria," Ellie replies just as quiet, standing up as well and walking over to the door, "If you were bit you'd be showing signs by now, I think you're okay."
"Ask her about Steve too, please," you add, "I need to know if he's alive."
She nods and opens the door, then goes outside and shuts it behind her. You hear the deadbolt slide back into place.
You burst into tears.
--
Ellie returns with Maria about ten minutes later, both of them looking at you with kind and sympathetic expressions when they find you standing in the middle of the room sobbing your heart out. Without hesitation, Maria walks forward and wraps her arms around you tightly.
"It's okay, sweetie," she says softly in your ear, rubbing your back gently, "Steve's okay, he's gonna make it."
Ellie looks down when she says this, and part of you knows that she knows you're not crying about Steve.
--
They walk you home slowly, Maria on one side and Ellie on your other. You complain a bit, telling them you're okay to walk on your own, but neither pay your stubbornness any mind, just keep their arms linked through yours as they walk you to your house.
You're on your street when you see two figures up ahead, and your heart starts to pound harder and harder in your chest the closer you get. Because you know who it is.
Joel and Tommy are leaning against the banister of Joel's front patio, talking quietly to themselves. You grimace at the sight of Tommy's black eye but feel relief flood through you when you see that he's smiling at Joel, clearly no animosity present.
"Look who's up!" Ellie says loudly, and they both turn to look in your direction.
Joel freezes, staring at you for a few brief seconds of recognition before he's suddenly throwing himself from the patio and sprinting toward you. You feel both Ellie and Maria release you from their grips, right before you're suddenly enveloped in the warmest, sweetest, most sincere hug you've ever received in your life.
Throughout all these months of knowing Joel, he's never truly touched you. Sure, he's touched your hand, shook it during your official introduction, helped you stand up here and there. He's touched your face once, your lips twice. And he's touched you where you longed for him to, begged him to, but only for a moment, just one touch. Gentle, tender, but never long enough for you to really feel him the way you've wanted to.
Now he pulls you close without any hesitation, no rules, no consequences. He presses his lips to the top of your head and whispers your name over and over until it sounds like a mantra, a prayer.
"Joel," you breathe, and you feel the tears start up again as you shut your eyes tight and just feel, listen to him say your name and hold you like you'll fall apart if he lets go.
"I thought I lost you," he says, voice rough and emotional, "Before I could even tell you how sorry I am."
"Shh," you squeeze him tighter, burying your face in his strong chest, "Don't worry about that, I'm here. I'm okay."
He holds you impossibly tighter and you hear the unmistakable sound of a sob rip through his teeth, tears dripping from his face into your hair. You pull back just enough to look up at him, see him peer down at you with an expression on his face that you've never seen before, impossibly soft and fond, eyes bright and yearning. Love.
"I'm sorry," he repeats, inhaling shakily, "For everything."
You shake your head furiously, "Joel, it's oka-"
"It's not okay," he interrupts, voice breaking again, "I'm so sorry. Not just for what I said yesterday, but for everything else. For pushing you away, making you feel like it was your fault, I'm so fucking sorry," he pulls you in again, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, "God, you have no idea how bad I've wanted to just hold you like this. I was such a fucking coward."
"You were afraid," you whisper, shaking your head, "I understand, Joel, I get it."
He lets out another sob, squeezes you tighter, "Don't let me go," he breathes, "Please don't let go."
For the entire hug you'd thought he was the one holding you, but you now realize that for him it's the other way around. You feel yourself start to cry harder as you pull him in tighter and just stand there, arms wrapped around his middle, face pressed against his chest as the beat of his heart thrums steadily in your ear. You both inhale and exhale deeply, moving as one being, one solid force. He kisses your head again and you melt further into his touch.
"I'm gonna head back to town," you hear Maria say softly nearby, probably to Tommy and Ellie, "Tommy, can you go check on Steve, make sure he's still doing okay?"
Joel stiffens at the name, suddenly pulling back from you to look over at Maria, "He alright?"
Maria nods, "Yeah," she turns to look at you then, expression serious, "He told us that when you didn't come back to switch patrols, he got worried, went out looking for you. Ended up running into a group of raiders, the same ones who set that trap you fell into. They stabbed him a couple times but nothing critical, he managed to get a few hits in himself before he got away, led them in the opposite direction."
"Jesus," you mutter, feeling guilt rush through you, "Are they still out there?"
"No," Tommy replies, shaking his head, "We took care of it. Steve knocked 'em around pretty good but we made sure none of 'em were breathin' by the time we left."
You nod slowly, still in Joel's embrace, "Tell him I'm sorry," you say quietly, "It's my fault."
"Shhh," Joel pulls you close again, rubbing your back gently, "Don't worry about that, let's get you inside."
"Make sure she has a bath," Maria says quickly, "Keep her warm, give her some food."
"I'm not a hamster," you groan, and you're surprised to hear Ellie laugh behind you. You'd forgotten she was there.
Joel suddenly pulls out of your embrace, still holding you with one arm while he reaches toward Ellie, "Come here," he says softly, "Please."
She shakes her head, taking a step back, "I'm going with Maria," she bites her lip, looks down and then looks back at Joel who's still staring longingly at her, "But I'll meet up with you later, okay?"
"Okay," he says quietly, voice still shaky, "Promise?"
She nods, gives him a small smile, "Promise."
--
"Where do you wanna go?" Joel had asked you softly, "Mine or yours?"
"Yours," you'd whispered immediately, no hesitation, "Please."
You now find yourself in Joel Miller's house, somewhere you never really ever pictured yourself. It's pretty similar to yours but there are a few differences, namely the amount of books and art. You hadn't known that Ellie was an artist; there are drawings all over his house, some in frames, some just laid around, all signed by Ellie, all beautiful. There's a picture she drew of him that he has framed on his fireplace, and you find yourself picking it up with a smile.
"Bath's almost ready," Joel says quietly behind you, and you spin back around. He looks at the picture in your hand, smiling softly, "Ellie drew that."
"She's really talented," you reply with a smile, "Wonder where she gets all this artsy fartsy stuff from?"
He chuckles, still standing a few feet away from you, "It's a mystery."
You place the picture back down and turn to look at him, feeling a nervousness in the pit of your stomach that you haven't felt around him in a long time, not since that first night together. Things are different now, it's palpable, and both of you are aware of it.
"Will you take a bath with me?" you ask quietly, unsure.
He nods slowly, eyes trained on your face, "Of course I will."
--
The bath is warm and welcoming. Joel had told you to strip down, get in, and that he'd be back momentarily with some food for you. You can't help but feel a little disappointed that he hadn't stuck around to watch you undress, but maybe it would've been inappropriate considering the circumstances.
You ease yourself under the water, a satisfied moan escaping your lips as the bath completely envelops you. He's put something in the water to make it smell good, lavender or vanilla. It instantly relaxes you, the heat of the water and the delicious smell making you feel completely at ease.
You lay there for a few minutes in silence, eyes closed, focusing on your breathing and bringing things back into perspective. You're okay, you're safe. Steve is okay, he's safe. You're both back in Jackson. You're with Joel, you're in his bath tub, he's downstairs making you lunch. Everything is okay.
Ellie's words filter through your brain again, distant but present; He lost his daughter a long time ago, and a woman named Tess he really cared about.
A light knock on the bathroom door shakes you from your thoughts. You smile, "Come in."
Joel enters the bathroom, bowl of soup in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other. He places them on the chair next to the tub, eyes avoiding you as he focuses on the task at hand. He kneels by the tub and spoons some of the soup carefully, then finally looks at your face as he brings the spoon to your mouth. You open, letting him feed you, letting him take care of you.
"Good?" he asks softly, gaze still on your face, ever the gentleman.
"Good," you say with a smile.
He feeds you a few more spoonfuls, smiling fondly at you as you eat. After a few moments of this you put your hand up, shaking your head, "That's enough for now, why don't you get in with me?"
His gaze finally falls then, looks at your body beneath the water, sees your nipples poking through the surface. He sighs, leans back a bit on his knees and shakes his head.
"I don't know if that's a good idea," he says quietly.
"Joel," you say quickly, voice steady, "Don't pull away from me. Not now. Not anymore."
He looks at your face again, expression sad and distant, "I'm afraid," he admits, "I'm afraid of being close to you."
"I know," you whisper, and you reach over to place your hand over his, stroking him gently with your thumb, "It's okay. It's okay to be afraid."
"I've lost a lot of people," he whispers, tears shining in his eyes, "I thought...I thought if I let myself get close to you, if I gave you what you wanted...I'd get attached. I'd fall for you," he says it earnestly, voice breaking slightly on the last few words, "But here I am, fallin' for you anyway."
You smile at him, soft and loving. You squeeze his hand and slowly sit up in the bath, putting yourself on display for him. His eyes don't leave yours, but he swallows and tenses his jaw at your movement.
"Bad things have happened to the people I care about," he says quietly, barely a whisper, "And you're young, you're beautiful, you have this whole life ahead of you and I'm-" his voice breaks and he looks down again, tears cascading down his cheeks, "I'm scared you'll end up like those people, dead and gone because of me."
"Joel-"
"And I'm scared I don't deserve it," he interrupts, looking up at you again, mouth trembling, "I don't think I deserve love. I don't deserve someone like you 'cause of everything I've done."
"What about Ellie?" you ask softly, squeezing his hand reassuringly, "She's alive and she loves you."
He scoffs, shaking his head, "She hates me."
"She doesn't hate you," you mean it, leaning forward to cradle his hand in both of yours, "I talked to that girl for the first time today, really talked to her, and I can see it plain as day. She loves you more than you could ever know, Joel."
"She stayed with me today," he whispers shakily, nodding slowly, "She sat with me 'til we knew you were safe."
"And you think that's hate?" you ask softly, "Joel, that's love."
He looks at you again, expression pained. You bring his hand to your lips, press a gentle and tender kiss to every knuckle, showing him how much he's worth, how much he means to you.
"I'm afraid," he repeats through his tears, watching you kiss him, "I'm afraid to want you the way I do."
You release his hand and lean back slightly in the tub, extending your arm for him to take, gazing at him with all the love and care you can muster, "Get in with me," you whisper, the splash of water the only sound in the room save for your heartbeats, both of which you swear you can hear, "Don't be afraid."
His eyes cast downward to your lips and he swallows again, then looks back up into your eyes, "Okay."
You watch as he stands up and starts to unbutton his shirt. You can tell that he's extremely nervous, his fingers trembling as he fights to get each button open.
"I'm gonna close my eyes," you say tenderly, "And when you're ready, tap my shoulder and I'll let you in behind me, okay?"
He nods slowly, fingers frozen on the third button, "Okay," he repeats.
You close your eyes and lean back, listening to the rustle of clothes beside you as he undresses. You're not used to this Joel, the one who seems powerless and submissive. You're not usually the one giving him orders, it's always been the other way around. You know he's just nervous, afraid of being close to you like this, and all you want is for him to feel relaxed again in your presence, feel like himself.
After a moment he taps your shoulder; you lean forward in the bath and feel him ease in behind you, his legs entrapping yours along the edges of the tub. He seats himself down, places his hands around your middle and pulls you in close. You feel his groin press against your lower back; you've never felt his cock before, and somehow the casual intimacy of his softness pressed against you makes you smile.
"You can open your eyes," he whispers, then presses a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.
You do as you're told, immediately seeing the way his legs are splayed out in front of you, long and strong beneath the water. You've never realized how small you are compared to him until this moment, completely enrobed in his body, heart thrumming against your back.
"This is heaven," you whisper, leaning back against him and closing your eyes again, "This is what I wanted, all along."
"I think you wanted a bit more than this," he replies with a chuckle, kissing your neck again, "And you'll get it, I promise. Let's just...let's just sit here for a little while first, alright?"
"As long as you need to," you murmur, and you swear you feel him smile against your skin.
--
You bathe together for a long time, just laying in each other's embrace and enjoying the company. Being this close to Joel truly is everything you could have ever hoped for, his strong arms wrapped around you as he noses your neck and breathes you in, holds you against his naked body like you're meant to fit there. He's so big and warm; you've never felt more safe.
At one point you scooch back a bit in this embrace, feel your ass unintentionally rub lightly against his cock beneath the water. Neither of you say anything, but you both slowly become aware of the way he hardens, begins to grow larger against you.
A few moments later the head of his cock is pulsing against your lower back. Your eyes are lidded, heavy, head bobbing backward to nestle at the base of his neck. His hands on your belly move upward to cup your breasts, holding you firmly and securely against him.
"Joel," you whisper, "Touch me."
The words bring both of you back to the ski lodge, the power he holds over you there, the way you're always at his mercy. You hope, despite the new situation, he'll be that person again for you. You crave it, need it.
"Not yet," he murmurs in your ear, "Be patient, pretty girl."
There he is.
You swallow, close your eyes and submit completely as he palms your breasts, tweaks your nipples between his fingers gently. You whimper pathetically, shuffle back against his cock again, feel the hard length of it along your back.
"You were a bad girl yesterday," he whispers in your ear, tongue darting out to taste your skin, making you shiver, "And today. Gettin' lost like that, makin' me worry..."
"M'sorry," you murmur, hands moving down to grip his thighs as he brings your earlobe into your mouth and sucks it, "Didn't m-mean to make you worry."
"I think," he whispers, breath hot against your skin, "I'm finally gonna have to punish you."
The words send tingles up and down your spine, eyes almost rolling back in your head when he sucks your earlobe again, eliciting sounds from you that only he knows how to generate. You squeeze his thighs tighter, feeling your pussy begin to pulse beneath the water.
"How?" you breathe, voice weak.
He releases your ear and noses your cheek, brings one of his hands from your breasts and rests a finger against your chin. He turns your face to the side, urging you to look at him. His eyes are dark, full of want and desire, and you know you're completely at his mercy.
"I'm gonna fuck you, baby," he whispers, "Gonna fill that pussy up with my cock."
The words send you into a tailspin, a guttural whine escaping your lips as your fingers press into his thighs, rubbing your own together to seek some purchase against your heat. He smiles, presses a gentle kiss to your temple, drops his hands and places them over yours, big and strong.
"I know that's what you want," he whispers, entangling his fingers with yours over his thighs, "But I'm gonna give it to you over and over again, gonna make you come as many times as I want, 'til you're begging me to stop, tellin' me it's too much, that you couldn't possibly come again," he squeezes your hands, licks a stripe up the side of your neck, "And then I'll give you another one."
"Please," you breathe, voice broken and full of desire, "Please, fuck me, Joel. I need it so bad."
"I know you do, baby," he whispers, "So be a good girl for me and do as I say, okay?"
"Okay," you whimper, leaning back in his embrace, feeling his cock prod your back.
"Say it."
"I'll be your good girl," you whine, trembling under his gaze, "I'm your good girl, Joel. Only yours."
He groans softly in your ear, "That's right, baby," he releases your hands from beneath his and cups your breasts again, squeezing gently, "Now, open yourself up for me."
With trembling fingers you reach beneath the water and pull your lips apart, using both hands to spread yourself for him. The water tickles you, makes you quiver in his grasp as you slowly push your middle finger inside.
"There you go," he whispers, "That feel good, pretty girl?"
"Y-yes," you whimper, throbbing around your finger.
"Add as many as you like," he tells you, "Need to be nice and open for my cock."
The very thought of finally having him inside you makes you whimper again as you add a second finger, feeling his familiar gaze on your cunt. It's so different this time, feeling how hard he is against you, being in his naked embrace while you obey his commands. This is nothing like being in his lap when he'd been fully clothed, holding you open for him. This is sex, pure sex that you know is going to last hours.
"Look at that," he murmurs when you've started to pump three fingers in and out of yourself at a steady pace, "So full for me, already ready to come, huh?"
You whimper, leaning back against his chest, feeling his wiry hair rub against your cheek. Without any hesitation he suddenly reaches down and presses his index finger to your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.
"Remember when I touched this clit for the first time?" he murmurs in your ear, circling it softly over and over, "Remember how you came just from a little touch? So sensitive, baby. Such a good girl."
His words send you over the edge, making you squirm and shake in his embrace as he gives you your first orgasm of the day, coaxes it out of you easily. You whimper when he touches your wrist, pulls your fingers out to replace them with his own.
"That's one," he whispers, sliding his index finger inside your heat, and you're not sure if he's talking about the orgasm or the digit. You're too blissed out to care, head bobbing against his neck again as he fingers you, adds a second and presses his lips to your ear, "Baby, she's so tight," he breathes, teasing a third at your entrance, "How's my cock gonna fit?"
"Mnnhnngg," you can't make words, looking down beneath the water at where he's fucking you relentlessly, fingers so big and thick compared to yours, his thumb toying with your clit.
"Can't even talk, huh?" he whispers, "Need to come again, I bet."
You don't think you'll be able to, not yet; you're so overstimulated but he just continues to fuck you with abandon, rubbing your clit with every thrust of his fingers. You arch back against him, his cock throbbing against your ass. Your fingers dig into his thighs again and he chuckles in your ear.
"Can't do that, baby," he whispers, "Play with your pretty little nipples for me, show me how hard they are."
You bring your trembling hands to your breasts, squeezing your tender nipples between your fingers and feeling another orgasm start building in your tummy. How? It's so soon since you had your last one, how the fuck can he give you another one so quickly?
He pumps his fingers steadily in and out of you, watching as you play with your nipples. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the skin of your left breast, inches away from where your fingers are pinching.
"Put it in my mouth, pretty girl," he murmurs against the skin, nosing the little bumps and dropping his jaw. You whimper at his words, squeezing your breast and dropping it downward so he can wrap his lips around the sensitive bud. You groan, feeling his tongue dart out and begin to lick tiny circles around it.
Seconds later, you're coming again. You shake and shiver and then go completely still in his arms, eyes rolling back as he continues to suckle at your nipple. He removes his fingers, thumbs your clit one more time, then releases your breast with a light pop.
"Two," he says quietly, smiling at you, "Good girl."
--
Somehow you make it to his bedroom. Exactly how, you're not sure. You're so wrecked from having two orgasms in ten minutes that you feel like jelly, but you're vaguely aware of him picking you up from the bath and carrying you to his room, putting you in his bed. You lay there like a starfish, arms up and legs wide as you breathe heavily, chest heaving.
"So sleepy," he says tenderly, stroking your cheek, "You ready for bed, baby? Wanna stop?"
Your eyes snap open and you shake your head frantically, only to see him standing there with a wide smile on his face.
"I'm kidding," he says with a laugh, "Don't worry."
You roll your eyes and look up at his ceiling, "Ass."
"There she is," he replies warmly, "Missed my feisty girl."
"She never left," you say with a wink, turning to look at him; he's shuffled closer to the bed, standing over you with his cock in his left hand, slowly stroking up and down. Your lips part unconsciously, eyes going straight for the plump and wet head.
"Yeah, you wanna suck it, huh?" he says quietly, thumbing exactly where you want to place your tongue, "Tasted my come twice but never had me in your mouth, how naughty."
You look up at him from under your lashes, smiling playfully, "I'm a good girl, promise."
He smirks, "Are you? Then show me how a good girl sucks cock."
You don't need him to ask you twice. You sit up on the bed and slide forward, watching as he releases his cock and lets it bounce upward toward his stomach, big and thick. You've never been so close to it, never seen it in broad daylight like this; he's huge, so wide and girthy with a big vein trailing along the underside all the way to the head, fat and leaking. With a shiver you lean forward and suck the tip into your mouth, trying not to smile when you hear him release a deep sigh.
"'Atta girl," he groans above you, his hand immediately coming up to cradle the back of your head, "That's my good girl."
You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, swallowing down everything he's leaking and then starting to bob your head along the shaft, reaching up to grasp the base firmly in your hand. He tastes like the bath; lavender and vanilla, mixed with a salty and masculine flavor that makes your mouth water.
"Oh, baby," he murmurs, watching as you take his entire length in your mouth with barely any hesitation, the head hitting the back of your throat without even making you gag, "That's it, take the whole fucking thing, just like that."
You're aware of the fact that you don't have a gag reflex; you'd thought about telling him a while ago, thought maybe it'd convince him to let you blow him, but you'd never been brave enough to say anything. Now, you're glad you never did. Hearing his absolute wonder as you take his entire length is more than enough.
"Oh, fuck," he groans, watching as you pull back almost all the way and then push yourself forward again to fully envelop him, the tip repeatedly prodding the inside of your throat, "Jesus fucking Christ."
You swallow around him and look up from underneath your lashes, eyes wide and burning. He looks down at you and immediately slips his cock out of your mouth, taking a step back and putting his hands up in surrender.
"Okay, okay," he says quickly, hissing through his teeth, "I'm gonna come if you keep goin'. Fuck."
You look at him with faux-innocence, eyes wide, "Did I do something wrong?"
He shakes his head, inhaling deeply and taking another step backward, "You're gonna kill me, baby," he curls his hands into fists, and you swear his cock bobs again completely on its own, like he's about to come without even being touched. The thought makes you shiver, "I know I say that all the time, but I mean it. You're gonna kill me."
You giggle, falling backwards on the bed again and stretching out your arms and legs, closing your eyes and listening as he does a quick pace around the room to distract himself from the orgasm his body is threatening to have. You just laugh and rotate your legs back and forth, feeling an immense amount of pride that you're not the only overly sensitive one in the room.
"You think that's funny, huh?" he asks you, and your eyes snap open to see him kneeling in front of you at the edge of the bed.
"N-no," you say, but your smile betrays you. He looks at you darkly and suddenly grabs your legs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed and pushing your thighs apart, "Oh," you whimper, looking down at yourself, seeing where he's looking, where you're wet and dripping all over the sheets.
"Messy," he whispers, "Such a messy little pussy."
"It's yours," you tell him, as if he doesn't already know, "It's your little pussy."
"I know, baby," he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, "I've wanted to taste her for so long."
You quiver at his words, brow furrowing as he presses another soft kiss to the opposite thigh. He licks a stripe along the inside, just outside your lips where you're puffy and swollen. He kisses your mound, drags his tongue down and down and down until it swipes lightly against your clit.
"Joel," you moan, throwing your head back and fisting the sheets. He pulls back and you look down again to see him smirking at you, eyes suddenly bright and playful again.
"Tastes like heaven, baby," he says softly, then ducks his head down and pushes his tongue inside you with no warning.
You let out the loudest moan of your life as he begins to eat you out, tongue alternating between twisting and licking your insides and then suckling on your clit like he'd done with your nipple, circling it inside his mouth relentlessly. You writhe beneath him, so much that he has to press his hands firmly against your belly to hold you down.
The noises you're making are practically inhuman, uttering almost a completely different language under your breath as he coaxes more ridiculous sounds out of you. You quickly realize that looking down at him is a mistake; the sight of his greying curls splayed across your pubic bone and the shape of his curved nose pressed into the hair on your mound, his eyes closed in pleasure as he sucks and licks and devours, just the image alone brings you close to the edge.
"I'm gonna come," you manage to squeak out, and he pushes his hands harder against your belly, the added pressure making you groan louder than ever.
He pulls his mouth away.
"No," you breathe, shaking your head wildly with wide eyes, "No, no, no, don't stop. Please don't stop!"
He smirks at you, removing his hands and leaning backward to release you completely from his grip. You stare at him, completely bewildered.
"Joel," you cry, real tears starting to form in your eyes, but not from sadness or anger - this time, you're just horny. "Joel, why?"
He still doesn't speak, just sits there and watches you groan in disbelief, your hands coming up to cover your face. You buck your hips into the air, seeking some kind of pressure, but nothing helps.
"Joel," you repeat, "This is mean."
"I told you I was gonna punish you, baby," he says it with faux-disappointment, like he's not the one who makes the rules, "I'm the one who decides when you come. And what I just did is exactly what you just did to me."
You pout, sitting up on your hands and giving him a dirty look, "That's not fair, you told me to stop, I would've kept going."
"But if you'd kept going, how would I have been able to do this?" he asks, and suddenly he's standing up and leaning over you on the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as he hovers above you.
"W-what?" you ask, but you know the answer as soon as you feel the wet head of his cock gently prod your entrance.
"This, baby," he murmurs, and pushes himself all the way inside.
You almost let out a scream, squeezing his sheets in your hands as his huge cock practically rearranges your guts, feeling him in your stomach as he reaches his hands up to entwine his fingers with yours, plying them away from the sheets.
"Oh, she wasn't ready, was she?" he asks quietly, nosing your neck and smiling at the incoherent noises coming from your throat, "Poor little pussy, never had something so big inside of her, huh?"
He stays still inside of you, letting you get used to his wide girth and thick length, so large within you that you feel like you're going to burst. You continue to make odd noises, twitching under his grasp, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that you're coming. You're coming, just from having his cock fully sheathed inside of you.
"Three," he whispers in your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there, "That's three times now, baby. Such a good girl for me."
Your pussy pulses and throbs around him, aching and burning in the most perfect way. How does he know exactly what you need? How does he know exactly what'll get you there?
"You're okay, baby," he murmurs, stroking your hair gently as you convulse around him, "You're doing so well, takin' it all so good."
You've never felt so full in your life. You've only ever had sex a handful of times, only ever actually been with two other men. If you had to compare them to this, you'd laugh in their faces.
"Big," you finally find your words, barely a whisper, "So big."
"I know," Joel kisses your temple, pulls back to look down at you with a gentle smile, "I'll wait 'til you get used to it, don't worry."
It's only then, looking up into those big brown eyes, that you realize you still haven't kissed him. He's got his enormous cock inside of you, stretching every inch of you open, and you've never kissed him.
It's like he's suddenly thinking the exact same thing. You watch as his brow furrows, lips parting slightly as he leans down and presses a sweet and gentle kiss to your lips, your eyes closing as you kiss him back with a hunger you've never known. You slip your tongue inside his mouth and he grants you entrance immediately, breathing deeply against your face as he sucks you in, lets you taste him. You can taste your own wetness on his tongue and it makes you moan against his lips.
"You're so fucking perfect," he breathes against your mouth, closing his eyes and rubbing his nose against yours, "My perfect girl, always so good for me."
"I'm yours," you remind him, voice weak and shaky, "I'll do whatever you tell me to, Joel."
He inhales deeply, removing his hands from yours and trailing them down your body to hold you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your torso and trailing his fingers up and down your back.
"You can move now," you whisper, still pulsing around him, "I can take it."
"I know you can, baby," he murmurs, "Such a good girl."
It takes a few slow thrusts, your mouth still eliciting the most unhinged sounds as he fucks you at the slowest pace imaginable, but eventually you build up a rhythm. He's so big, it's hard to believe he's actually fitting inside of you. You'd only ever seen his cock from a distance, in darkness, never realized how fucking huge he was. You can't believe you'd even managed to fit all of him in your mouth.
"I'm close," you groan in his ear, your own hands coming up to grip his back tightly, loving the feeling of having him pressed so close to you as he fucks you, "Give me my fourth, Joel, fucking give it to me."
He laughs lightly in response, pulling back to look down at you, "Not much of a punishment anymore, is it?" he says with a smirk, shaking his head, "Now you're begging for it." He slows down his thrusts, eventually stilling inside of you and pulling almost all the way out, letting the head of his cock sit inside your pulsing hole.
"Look at that," he says softly and you sit up to follow his gaze, looking down at your already fucked-out hole, his cock only connected to it via the fat head that sits nestled at your entrance, "Look at all your come on my cock, pretty girl."
You notice the white and glistening spots along his cock, feeling your cheeks go red at the recognition that it's all from you. You bite your lip, chest heaving breathlessly as he carefully pulls the tip from your hole and places it against your clit.
"Oh, fuck," you whimper, watching as he gently rubs the head in circles on your clit, his tip continuing to leak and making you even more slippery than you already are.
"Here's number four for you, baby," he murmurs, and pulls back his cock to lightly slap the head against you, the pressure immediately making you moan. He slaps it again, a little harder, and you have to bite down on your lip again to stop the onslaught of little whines you're threatening to make.
"Come," he says firmly, deliberately an order, and slaps the head of his cock against your clit one last time, delivering the final push.
Your eyes roll back again and you fall back on the bed, body twitching as you come for the fourth time, feeling his eyes on your pussy as your hole pulses and throbs around nothing.
"Good girl," he whispers, and seconds later you feel his cock slide back inside of you, exactly where it belongs, "There you go."
You lay there completely limp for a few seconds, body only moving with the thrusts of Joel's steady pace. You finally open your eyes again, see him kneeling on the bed above you. He's holding your lower half upwards, hands digging into your hips and thumbs splayed across your tummy.
"Use me," you breathe, eyes closing again, "Just use me for a few minutes."
He groans, a guttural and fierce noise that rips through the silence of his bedroom. You relax completely, melting into the sheets and letting him take what he needs, take and take and take, using you like his personal fuck toy, something you'd only dreamed about and never thought would ever actually come to fruition. Your arms hang limp and loose off the edge of his bed as you inhale and exhale, trying to get your energy back as fast as possible so you can come again.
Because you know he's not gonna let you off at number four.
After a few more steady thrusts you slowly sit back up on your elbows, looking at him through hooded and tired eyes. He can see that you're close to being completely done, smiles gently at you and slows his rhythm.
"Welcome back," he says softly, leaning down to pull you up so you're level with him. He repositions the both of you so his legs are circling you, yours coming up to wrap around his lower back as you sit on his cock. He pulls you closer, cradling the back of your head and pressing kisses along the side of your face, "I know you're tired but I'm gonna give you one more, baby, just like I promised."
"I know," you whisper, voice shaky.
He holds you in his wide arms, completely envelops you as he fucks up into you steadily, nose and lips pressed against the side of your face as he brings himself closer and closer to release, continuously whispering a thread of dirty things to you, building you up.
"Such a tight fuckin' pussy, all for me," he murmurs, "So wet and pink and perfect, takin' me so good, so fuckin' full of cock."
"Joel," you whimper, leaning further against him and letting him fuck you mercilessly, letting him push you closer and closer to your fifth orgasm, "Keep talking."
"Okay, baby," he whispers, brow furrowed, "Okay, pretty girl. So fuckin' good to me, so fuckin' pure and perfect, lettin' me fill this little cunt, lettin' me fuck it so deep," you scratch at his arm, tension building in your belly, "Waited so long for me to give it to you, begged for it for months, and now you have it. It's all yours, baby. You get this cock whenever you want now, just say the word."
He reaches down and rubs your clit with his thumb, feeling you tense against him as your orgasm overtakes you. You shake in his embrace, moaning out his name one final time before you start to come, heart pounding and chest heaving as he releases your clit and hugs you close to him. You tremble beneath him, feeling completely spent, almost boneless in his lap as he keeps fucking you.
"Where do you want my come, pretty girl?" he asks you through clenched teeth, "You still want it in your mouth?"
"Yes," you say immediately, eyes widening, "In my mouth, please."
Without another word he pulls you from his lap, watching as you fall backwards on the bed weightlessly.
"Christ, I fucked the shit outta you, baby," he says, genuinely shocked at how blissed out you are.
"You did," you reply softly, feeling a smile cross your face, "Can't move anymore."
He gives you a gentle smile, walks around the bed and aims his cock toward your face, "Here's your reward, baby, open up, nice and wide."
You do as you're told, feeling an immense amount of pride and satisfaction as you finally get what you've been craving for months. He strokes his cock once, only once, and suddenly ropes of thick white come are painting your tongue and lips, your cheeks, your chin. He groans, long and low, watching as you close your eyes and take every drop he gives you, watching it all pool on your tongue, dribble down your chin.
"Fuck," he breathes, and you open your eyes again to see him staring at you, eyes still dark and pupils blown wide, "Swallow it, pretty girl."
You close your mouth and swallow all of it, reveling in the salty taste on your tongue and in the back of your throat. You bring a trembling hand to your mouth, push the leftovers from your cheeks and chin past your lips, swallowing a second time.
"Good girl," he whispers, leaning down to push your hair out of your eyes, "That's my good girl, did so fucking well for me. Did everything I said."
"I'm yours, Joel," you whisper, voice completely wrecked, "I'm your good girl."
--
He cleans you up tenderly, pressing kisses to your skin every now and then as he takes a warm washcloth and wipes you down, pays extra attention to your sensitive spots and lets you lay there in peace. He's so sweet, so gentle, you'd hardly know it was the same Joel who walked out on you back at the ski lodge.
But it is the same Joel. He's just finally let himself have what he wants, finally let himself give you what you want. When he climbs in bed beside you and wraps his arms tightly around you, you've never felt so desired in your entire life. He kisses your face all over, whispers praises, tells you how beautiful you are, makes you feel wanted.
"You asleep?" he asks you softly, hands running up and down your arms soothingly.
"In and out," you murmur back, "You really did a number on me."
He chuckles quietly, kisses your cheek and holds you tighter, "I know. It was okay, right? I didn't go too far?"
"It was perfect," you reply sincerely, leaning back into his touch, "It was everything I ever wanted, better than anything I imagined."
He smiles against your skin, "Good, I'm glad."
You both lay there in the silence of his bedroom for a few more moments, listening to each other's breathing. He kisses the back of your neck, noses your skin and inhales your scent.
"Are you still afraid?" you ask quietly, "You can tell me, I want you to be honest."
He takes a few moments to reply, sighing deeply and bringing one of his hands down to hold tightly to yours. You squeeze his back, quietly reminding him that you're here, that you're not going anywhere.
"I am," he says softly, voice barely a whisper, "But not so much anymore. I think it'll be easier now."
"It will be," you reassure him quietly, tightening your grip on his hand, "I'm here for you, okay? Every step of the way."
He nuzzles into your hair, presses himself against you and sighs contentedly, "Okay."
You close your eyes, focusing on the perfection of this moment, the feeling of his body so close to yours, warming you up and keeping you safe. You can't help but notice how perfectly your bodies fit together, how right it feels to be lying together like this.
"By the way," he whispers suddenly, "You'll be my patrol partner again, right?"
You grin, tilting your head back slightly so his cheek brushes against your temple, relishing in the feeling of his stubble against your skin, so natural, so easy.
"I thought you'd never ask."
i can't believe how long this took me to write but i'm so glad i finally finished it. this isn't the end of soft!dom joel, but i would consider it the end of their story, most likely. i'll probably write some more smutty one-shots for them, but i doubt i'll write anything for them again with this much detail. i feel pretty satisfied with this.
let me know what you think!!! i love hearing yalls feedback, it makes me so happy. i also have a kofi if you'd like to leave me a tip. thank you so much for reading 💖
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#tlou fic#pedro pascal fic#*#fic: soft!dom joel
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Eldritch Steve verse
Part 10
So, apparently A03 is down and I had nothing better to do, so I wrote this, I'll post it to Ao3 either tomorrow or when it's back up if it takes more than a day.
Thank you for all your ideas for a title, I haven't actually chosen one but you've gotten me thinking so thank you, (a little part of me wants to name it 'From the rot', I don't even really know why).
-
"...and that difference was my undoing, it was the undoing of my kind as well, they just didn't know it yet." Steve began.
And Eddie listened, quietly, he listened intently because this was Steve's story, the journey into who he was now, and Eddie had always been curious about who Steve was before he came into their world.
Not enough to ask, no, he'd seen the way Steve looked away when Jonathan asked about others, when Nancy questioned if they should be worried about others like Steve.
And Eddie felt his heart break when Steve mentioned spawning, when he'd explained what that was.
And he felt the tears in his eyes escape when Steve described coming home and finding the broken shells, the remains of his raveged children and the anger that had filled him.
Eddie didn't blame him, he'd be angry if anything happened to the Party, to El and Erica and Max, he didn't know what he'd do if someone killed them, didn't want to find out.
"I sat there for what must have been days, watching the remains of my babies rot and then I buried them as deep into the ground as I could." Steve spoke softly, an otherworldly grief in his voice.
And Eddie expected him to say that he'd sought out a way into their world, snuck through a crack or hole and ran from his anger and grief.
What he did not expect was what Steve told him next.
"I tracked the scent of the one that took my spawn, and I tore it apart, piece by piece until nothing was left but scraps and blood. And I stood there and I knew that I could never safely spawn, not while my kind lived." Steve looked to the window, to the tree that scraped at the glass, "And I knew that I'd be hunted for what I'd done, not the killing of a fellow, but that I left it to rot."
Eddie frowned wondering why that would be the problem, Steve seemed to understand and explained.
"My kind, they aren't like humans, it's survival of the strongest, and we'd eat the weaker of our kind, to gain their strength, their rage , that I didn't eat the one I killed was the wrost sort of insult I could give, they'd hunt me for that alone, but as far as the others were concerned I'd attacked unprovoked, for no reason since I wasn't eating.
"So I let my rage and anger have me, let it guide me in my slaughter, thinking of my spawn broken and killed before they had the chance at life.
"When that rage, that anger finally faded into the sorrow it was covering I was..." Steve looked at Eddie, tears in all those thousands of eyes, "I was alone, the rest of my kind were dead and left to rot throughout the Down Below, their blood poisoned the rivers and the fumes from their rotting flesh poisoned the air. I made the Down Below the wasteland it is now, because I would not feed on those that killed my babies, because it was worse for me to leave them where the fell once I'd killed them."
Steve looked away from Eddie, "You say I'm not a monster, but you're wrong, I am, my reasons for doing it don't change the fact that I commited a genocide, that I am one of two, that neither of us will spawn together or alone, our kind, if we breed at all, will eventually be diluted with each generation, until it is nothing but strange quirks appearing now and again."
Eddie stared, it was a lot of information but it didn't change Eddie's feelings, grief did strange things to everyone, Wayne, when Eddie's mother died had spent days wandering the woods, always retuning covered in blood that Eddie could only hope wasn't human. Eddie had seen him digging holes in the far side of the trailer park to bury something but he'd never been brave enough to ask or to go digging later. And Eddie's mother wasn't related to Wayne, Wayne was Eddie's father's brother not his mother's.
But knowing what Steve had done didn't change anything, not for Eddie at least, his heart was Steve's for as long as Steve wanted it, even when Steve stopped wanting it, Eddie's heart would still be Steve's until it stilled, this changed nothing, except...
"Wait, does that mean you and me could have biological children?" Eddie asked, because he had no filter.
Steve looked at him with a from, "You don't hate me?"
"I could never." Eddie said as he pulled Steve into his arms and let him relax into him.
They stayed that way for minutes or hours, at some point moving to lay down on the bed, before Eddie's curiosity needed to be satisfied.
"You never answered me, can you have my babies, because I certainly don't have the right equiptment for carrying babies." Eddie said.
Steve looked up at him from where he laid on Eddie's chest, "I can have either parts, I'm not male or female in the way humans are, the male form was just easier when I changed, it's a less complicated system."
"Cool, I'd like to spawn with you, when you're ready for that, if you ever are." Eddie told Steve.
Steve stared at him in his unsettling way, "You are not lying."
"Nope, I love you, Steve, Monster or not, I'm yours until you decide otherwise." Eddie vowed.
"You need to talk to Wayne." Steve said.
"What?" Eddie frowned, what did Wayne have to do with this, with anything.
"He can explain what you're getting into better than I can, I didn't spend much time with Mated Pairs." Steve explained.
Eddie frowned, stared at Steve.
"Oh My God! WAYNE IS LIKE YOU?!" Eddie shouted.
-
Taglist: not taking tag requests, it's getting too long.
I will update this with the Ao3 link when it's posted.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/48500452?view_full_work=true
@addelyin @merricatty @lesbiabrobin @apuckishwit @0o-mushroom-o0 @starlight-archer @darkwitchoferie @just-a-tiny-void @swimmingbirdrunningrock @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @goodolefashionedloverboi @adhdsummer @purpleanimeoverart @space-invading-pigeon @lilaclilyroses @nohomoyesbi @plantzzsandpencilzzs @korixae @subversivecynic @flusteredcas @persnicketysquares @freddykicksasses @little-trash-ghost @cupcakesnwhiskey @cats-ate-all-of-my-pasta @planetsoda @paintsplatteredandimperfect @irregular-child @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @steddieassheg0es
#steddie#eldritch monster steve#upside down creature steve#mpreg mention#cannabalism mention#genocide mention#From the Rot
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Okay so, I wrote the second thing from this post.
Also available in AO3 format.
~*~
It's not that Tech doesn't want to interact with anyone, it's that he's exhausted.
Being reunited with his siblings and finding all of them more or less in one piece (physically if not emotionally) is the only thing he's needed for some time. Now in possession of that, he's ready to sleep for at least ten rotations. Possibly longer. The quality of the surface is negotiable, so long as it's stable. He should eat, though, having not been able to very often since falling from the rail car. Or, so they all convince him. Afterwards he can sleep to his heart's content (and plans to).
Throughout dinner he's quiet, keeps himself present enough to respond if he hears his name or senses the conversation has paused in expectation of a comment. This alone is a struggle, uses up the last of his reserves. Once everyone is clearing off the table and leaving to sleep or otherwise he's ready to crawl into a cramped, uncomfortable rack on the Marauder and pass out.
He does help with cleanup, though, bringing in trays, putting away food. At some point a cup of water appears next to him and he drinks it, continues the chores on a sort of autopilot until Phee settles her hip on the counter and folds her arms.
"You look like you could use some sleep. Maybe, a month or so."
"That will be the minimum I expect," Tech admits. He finishes the water, sets the cup into the sink. A second later he realizes she must have been the one to put it next to him. "Thank you. For the water."
"You're welcome," she says, smiling, warm and tired. There's a strain in her expression he doesn't remember seeing before, isn't sure how to ask about. So he turns to survey the kitchen--hers, sparse and simple since she's on the island so infrequently. There's a bowl of items on the table: a large shell, a feather, a colorful rock, a piece of...
... damaged, tinted transparisteel in a scratched, circular frame...
Tech drifts towards the table, vaguely aware Phee is watching him. She must see what he's noticed, because she says, "Yeah. I...didn't want to get rid of them."
He reaches for the goggles with caution, like they might bite. Here they are, destroyed as he'd expected them to be, left lens smashed, right lens cracked. Dust from the mountainside still coats the band. It's impossible for her to have these. Unless she'd done the unthinkable and gone to Eriadu to look for him?
"Where did you find them," he asks, turning them over in his hands. Somehow the camera housing is still intact. Had they checked it for footage?
"I didn't," she admits, then sighs. "Believe me, I wanted to go to Eriadu, but Shep and Hunter wouldn't let me. Wrecker had them."
Rightfully so, he thinks but doesn't say, because Phee not endangering herself on his behalf is slightly less important than the source of the ugly new dread coalescing in his mind. "Wrecker had these."
"Yeah. They came back with them and--"
Something in her voice has changed. Something he should address. Except there's no time, so he interrupts her. "And where did they get them?"
She blinks, taken aback. "I'm...not sure. They didn't say."
Tech grips them tightly, makes for the door. "We need to talk to them, right now. And Shep."
She follows close on his heels. "Right now?"
"Yes. Immediately."
Her demeanor shifts from uncertain worry to simple determination. "I'll go get Shep."
He registers this vaguely, mind working at a furious pace. Had they really gone back for him? They hadn't said so. But then how had they found the goggles? Chanced across them in a wrecking yard? That seemed unlikely. Bought them off a scavenger?
The Marauder's ramp is still down, the lights on. Omega sits in the entrance, toying with a tablet while their brothers mill around the external storage compartment. This suggests they're trying to sort out sleeping arrangements by putting whatever they can into the compartments. Shep had offered one of the little houses now that lower Pabu was repaired, but Hunter had demured. It's just as well; Tech suspects Crosshair and Omega won't be able to sleep anywhere but on the ship for some time, can't blame them either. It's fortunate either way, as it means they're all still awake.
Omega sees Tech on first, greets him with a tired smile and a wave. Noticing her movement, Wrecker turns, guffaws at Tech. "What, not gonna stay with Phee?"
Tech stops in front of them. It's on the tip of his tongue to ask, "Why would I do that?" but he doesn't have time. None of them do. Just like like when he was dangling from the rail car.
He holds up his broken goggles, which saps the general mood of relaxation from all of them in a moment: Crosshair stares, expression souring; Omega swallows, looks away; Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker all become somber. He'd be sorry if the circumstances were anything but what they are.
"How did you get these?" he asks, searching their faces.
Wrecker grimaces. "Hemlock. He was trying to use them to mess with us." He rubs the back of his neck, murmurs, "Worked pretty well."
The dread hovering in Tech's crystallizes, takes shape. He starts tearing apart the recording device.
Omega slowly stands, walks down the ramp. Hunter watches Tech yank off piece after piece of the device with growing concern. "Tech, what are you--"
"Hemlock," Tech says, interrupting him. He glances up, looks from Wrecker to Hunter for confirmation. "He gave you these."
Echo says, "Yeah." A second later he closes his eyes. "...shit."
"What," Crosshair says, voice gone hard. Omega moves to him, takes one of his hands. Tech hears people approaching; Phee and Shep, he suspects.
He finds it a second later, precisely where he'd expected it to be. It's smaller than the older models he's familiar with, though that's hardly a surprise. Hemlock would have access to the latest equipment.
Tech yanks out the tracking chip, holds it up, throws it to the ground and smashes it under the heel of his boot.
"Fuck," Crosshair says on a sigh.
Phee comes to stand next to Tech, eyes on the fragmented remains. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."
He wishes he could. "It is."
Hesitantly, Shep asks, "What is it?"
"A tracking device," Hunter says. Resignation and defeat darken his features, reminding Tech of leaving Kamino without Crosshair. (That's not happening. Not this time. Not ever again.)
No reactions from the rest of them, not even Shep, just stunned silence. Tech can't stand how no one is moving or speaking, so starts to. "We must evacuate everyone. Immediately."
Phee runs a hand over her face. "Brown Eyes how are we evacuating several hundred people on a moment's notice?" There's a note in her voice he's not heard before: fear, brittle and sharp. It makes him want to...
He's not sure. Do something to fix it, at a minimum. "We'll find a way. We always do."
Echo heads for the ramp. "Well for starters I'll contact Rex. He'll at least have a couple of ships we can load people onto."
"You're sure," Shep says. Tech turns: the despondency in Shep's features is painful to see.
"Yes. That was a low power tracker, but the chances they've not picked up the signal by now are minimal. We must assume they're on their way."
Phee exhales sharply. Just like that, her fear becomes resolve. "Alright. Let's get everyone ready to go. No packing, we just leave." She turns to Shep. "If it doesn't fit in their pockets it has to stay."
Shep sighs, nods. He and Phee take separate exits from the courtyard to round up the various leaders of the refugees for help in spreading the word.
Hunter stares down at the remains of the chip, unmoving. The others watch him with growing worry.
Omega's voice is quiet in the darkening courtyard. "Hunter?"
"What have we done," is all he says.
A sound from within the Marauder catches Tech's attention. One he'd know asleep or half dead, drilled into him via hours of simulator time and countless battles: enemy ships on approach.
Echo leans out of the ship. "They're here."
#star wars#the bad batch#spoilers#tbb tech#phee genoa#tbb hunter#tbb wrecker#tbb Omega#tbb echo#i mean but really spoilers but anyways#trailer speculation fic
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A good lesson in fucking (au! Virgin! Ceo! The Salesman x Bimbo! sugar baby! Fem! Reader) (part 1)
general series summary: you find out your sugar daddy is a virgin and you would love to help him explore his sexual desires
Warnings: nothing explicit at this time, maybe some suggestive language and sexual themes. this fic is 18+, so you've been warned.
A/n: I just wanted to write about an older handsome man whose a virgin( so literally a 40 year-old virgin lol) and btw I'm giving him the name Seok-woo again, so I'm not always calling him the salesman, so I hope that's fine with y'all. Enjoy :)
P.s: I have an AO3 account under the name whorrorwritings, part 2 will be up on there by the time I post this part on here, if you can't wait head over there and read it if you want to!
"Wait, you're going over to his house?! You don't even know him" that is the sound of your distressed friend on the other side of the phone.
" Oh, will you stop worrying. He seems like such a nice guy " you open up a pretty pink box to see a really cute yet sophisticated dress. "Honey, just because he buys you stuff, doesn't mean he's a nice guy." She tries to reason with you as you're trying on the dress he wanted you to wear for the meetup, It hugs your curves beautifully as you look at yourself in the mirror. " I mean, you told me you don't even know his name or what he looks like, what if he's a serial killer..you never know" she continues and let out a sigh as you're still smiling.
"Look, I get your concerns, but I'll be fine, and besides it doesn't hurt to meet the guy who financially supported me for 6 months when I was settling here" you do not really understand why she's so worried. sure she has a point, he's seen only ever seen you and your body online multiple times, but don't know a thing about him. Finally, you hear her sigh coming from the other side of the line. "I know you're not going to listen, but please be safe and text me if you need anything, I'll be there so fast I swear" you giggle at your worried friend. " I'll keep you posted, I'll talk to you later, bye, " you say cheerfully and you both hang up. You are fully ready, now it's time to leave for your date.
30 minutes later, you arrive at his beautiful home by a car he sent out for you. Looking around and starting to approach the home, you're regretting this with every heartbeat as you walk closer. what if your friend is right? What if he does murder you? There is no turning back now. you ring the doorbell anyways, waiting until you are greeted by a tall, handsome man at the door.
"hey, miss it's finally nice to meet you," he says so kindly, you look into his eyes and it was love at first. You were not expecting this gorgeous man to be your sugar daddy, but you definitely were not complaining at all. In a matter of seconds, you were already planning a wedding, and having a family with this man "are you ok?" You look up at him "oh sorry" as you enter his home.
Inside his home is beautifully furnished and spacious, but that is to be excepted from a rich CEO. "I must say you're as gorgeous in person." he says with a bit of nervousness in his voice as he's scratching the back of his head "oh, why thank and you're quite a handsome gentleman." You giggle slightly which makes him arrange his tie at your response, he seems to be feeling hot?
" by the way... my name is Seok-Woo... I don't think I ever told you my name before..umm ever" he laughs nervously. "Oh, Seok-Woo? what a nice name." You smile brightly. The two of you are just standing there in awkward silence for a minute as you look up at him with your pretty eyes, and he starts to look around out of nervousness.
"so..um did you eat anything yet? I can umm. set something up" he asked you politely. " Oh, sure I can go for a snack" nodding at him. "Ok, I'll be right back then" he bows slightly then heads into his kitchen.
While he's doing that, you start to wander around his house looking at the beautiful paintings that hang on the walls, taking in his decor. making your own journey around his house until you see a door slightly open to a room, begging for someone to enter it. The curiosity is killing you, so you go inside to check it out.
upon entering, you see nothing but a bunch of half-naked anime figurines on his shelf against each corner of his walls, and you look in awe "wow, what a cute doll" you let out a ditzy laugh, holding one of the figurines in your hand as you inspect it ''wow, she's very curvy" tilting your head then look at your own body." what else does he have in here?'' you proceeds to look around when you spot a stack of hentai mangas and so you pick it up to read the title.
"Super big titty sluts xxx" you say out loud to yourself then open up the book to flip the pages, and you see some very lewd images which makes your face feel like it's on fire, it was nothing but big titties everywhere, and dicks going in every hole. "The pages are stuck together? I wonder why?" As you try to continue to read the manga, figuring out the storyline.
"Hey! Why are you in here?" You jump so hard, dropping his manga and figurine in the process " Oh my god, I'm sorry! I was just waiting..and and I.." your face still feels so hot at what you saw. Wow, he's into some freaky stuff you thought. when he sees you drop his figurine, he wanted to lose it on you, but he remains calm. those figurines are his prize possessions, he's paid a pretty penny for all of them.
"Oh, well... please don't do this again." He says softly as he goes over to pick up his figurine and carefully places it back on the shelf, he looks over her to make sure you didn't mark her up " Umm.. so you want to watch a movie together?" his attention on you now, nodding your head yes as you leave out of his very interesting room.
😳
10 minutes into this suspense drama, it's pretty good so far. You start moving your body closer to his to rest your head on his shoulder. You can feel him put his arm around your arm awkwardly in response. You sigh of relief, looking up at him into his eyes, but he looks away fast.
"Are you enjoying this movie, babes?" You giggle as you feel him trying not to look down at your cleavage . " Umm...yeah..it's good.. how about you? do you like the film?'' He asks, trying to focus his attention on the movie. " I mean it's definitely interesting, but I'm more interested in you, Seok-Woo" he can feel himself getting hard at your voice alone, you're as sexy as the women he sees in the hentai on his computer screen every night.
"how about this?" You straddle his lap, facing him. you're feeling his boner twitching in his dress pants" oh wow, I can feel how big you are, impressive." you giggle with the motion of your boobs jiggling and he looks nervous, though he is enjoying the view. "How about we have some fun? I at least owe you for taking care of me" You wink at him then proceed to kiss on the crook of his neck as you grab his hands so he feels up your ass, but he doesn't squeeze it. you're grinding on him and moaning like a needy whore into his neck. Seok-Woo's eyes are closed while grunting under his breath, focusing on feeling your pussy lips with his tip. this is the perfect scenario that he's been dreaming about, he might cum from this alone.
You reach for his belt to remove it, but his hand stops you in mid-motion. Surprised, you look up at him and his facial expression is reading regret it seems "Stop, Hun" he says out of breath. " Not now" he looks down. Feeling confused, but You get off of him, and sit back down on the couch, this is very awkward now. "I'm really sorry, Seok-Woo...I hope I didn't offend you" did you read the room wrong? Is he not into you like you thought he was.
"you should leave" he simply says which was another dagger to your heart. grabbing your purse as you get up to leave and he follows you to the door. "Text me to let me know that you got home safely... and oh I'll be wiring your weekly allowance to your account tomorrow, have a good night," he says then shuts the door in your face, not giving you a second to respond.
Tears start to stream down your face. You're feeling horrible and embarrassed. that's when your Phone is ringing off in your purse so you check to see that it's your friend, Hong-Ga young again, so you pick it up.
"Oh thank God, he didn't murder you," she says but then she hears you sniffling. "Oh..what's the matter? Are you alright?" Her voice sounds very worried, and you try to keep your composure. " Yeah, I'm ok, Ummm can you pick me up?" You wipe away the tears with your sleeve. " Of course! I'll be there in a second" she says hastily. Both of you say your byes then hang up the phone.
While you are chilling on his steps with your morbid thoughts clouding your mind. a big raindrop falls on your knee, and out of nowhere rain starts to violently poor down. With no umbrella in sight, you're all drenched now, can this night get any worse? You just need to bundle up in a blanket and forget about this night that ever happened, hoping everything will be better tomorrow.
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𖤓Sore Kisses
Chapter 13. These Vultures
Read on ao3 here
Warnings: MDNI +18 [I fucking mean it] Smoking, Heavy Drinking, Fluff and Angst Swearing, Crossdressing, Adult Content, Eventual Smut, Blonde Mary Goore!! Everyone is a Little Shit in here, later it gets all Soft and Smutty, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Trope, Slow Burn Romance
Summary: After a failed date, you find yourself free to see Mary after weeks without being able to be together, thanks to your new life after the move. A day in this new routine is suffocating, but the sky opens a little to give you a little light, although not in the way you want.
I'll post this one full length since it's nothing but SFW
A couple of weeks have passed after your move, you have been so busy that you have not even had time to feel bad about it with total freedom, you just go from one place to another, from school to work and from work only to sleep at home and repeat. There are times when it seems like Mary only exists on your phone, at least it's not like talking to a bot, they always keep you up to date with the nonsense that Nick and Frank do, their late night thoughts keep you awake when you have a school project to work on. You both always talk about how one day they’ll keep you company until dawn, but you never actually ask them to come, you’re sure you will do anything except do homework with Mary on your side, or so you assume.
You were behind on some deadlines, but you bought time to hand in your work, you were waiting for a colleague who was supposed to help you with some photographs, you needed someone with narrow shoulders and long hair, you have a very specific idea of what you want the scene to be like; after waiting half an hour in the lobby of your school, you call her non-stop to find out where the hell is she, internally praying that she hasn't forgotten about the appointment. After a few calls that she didn't answer, she sends you messages that she is incapacitated due to a hernia on the back, you can't get mad at her for that, it's out of her control, but you still curse your bad luck and resolve to go back home.
Along the way home you smoke two or more cigarettes, bought yourself a drink, frustrated at not being able to make progress on your tasks, you had even asked for a week's vacation at work to be able to do it, for all to come to nothing, you snort as you approach your door looking at the phone, Mary has sent a text in response to your morning message, an eggplant emoji and a lips emoji next to it, classic, especially when your text was “What did you dream about?”
Many times, when you have a little moment to think, you feel kind of bad for having pressured yourself into doing something physical with Mary. Only because you knew you wouldn't have time later, once you left. But you can't keep punishing yourself for something so superfluous, especially when they still show you that they think about you in the most depraved ways you can't imagine.
In a brief message, you tell Mary your annoyance about what happened with your colleague. For what they answer you.
"Does that mean you can come tonight?" they write back.
"Sure, where to?" you respond while eating something and regret smoking that much.
"To the gig??" the text hits you like a train.
You didn't even have time to feel bad for not remembering, of course, the good side of every bad thing, at least now you have the night free to see them, finally. Your heart jumps out of your chest when it finally dawns on you, the path to the bar is blurry in your memory, because you can't wait.
It took a lot of obstacles and time to get to the bar. You couldn't take the subway because it was too late, taking a vehicle made you quite afraid, you were too far away to be able to call someone to give you a ride; you’re sure that something higher must have been taking care of you because you cannot explain how you arrived at the bar safe and sound, nor why you did not bring something with you to defend yourself, even so, it is always better not to have to use them in mind and just exist with ease, so, even if you have to crawl, you’re determined to be there until it’s over.
As you pass through the people of the crowded place, you stop looking for another familiar face other than theirs, suddenly, someone lifts you into the air, you hit enraged whoever dared to take you like a sack of potatoes over their shoulder; it wasn't for long that you recognized the shirt on the back of the person who carried you. When they put you down and you see that it was indeed Mary, you give them a fake slap while you laugh, they were already ready for that and quickly grab your thighs to pick you up again, you gladly jump and wrap your legs on their waist and your arms around their neck.
“Hi-” you tried to say, touching noses, but their lips interrupted your greeting. You're glad to know that not only you were starving for kissing them, their mouth attacked you sloppily, most likely they also tasted what you ate for breakfast by how deep their tongue got, they were being rough but not as in hurtful, as if he had forgotten how to do it more comfortably, Mary seemed too desperate to care.
You giggled when they go lower to your neck, you’re aware that no one was watching the two of you, although not for long because they soon push you against a wall, pressing with his hip, trying to get as close to you as possible.
“Not here-” you hide your face in their shoulder, coyly trying to remember that you’re not alone in the bar.
Without saying anything yet, Mary slowly lowers you from their arms, not without taking advantage of groping every inch of your legs, without letting go of their neck, you hug them sweetly, fondling your fingers on the back of their head.
“I’ve missed you too, beautiful” It feels like you haven't seen each other in months, maybe longer.
"Oh no..." Only then do you begin to notice his beer breath and his damp hair and shirt “Am I late?”
"Just a little, we're done playing, but we were planning to stay here a little longer."
"Mary, I'm sorry, I didn't realize the time, I came as fast as I could, apart from having forgotten..." you regret out loud.
"It doesn't matter, you're here, now." They hold your face, joining your foreheads, then they guide you by taking your hand to where the others are, already deep into their drinks, there was only the bandmates and their friends, Frank wasn’t there.
Thanks to what they had already been drinking, everyone was much more expressive than usual, even the people who didn't know you celebrated your arrival when Mary shouted out to everybody, you saw Nick too busy counting Cami’s molars with his tongue in a stool far from the table and the sight made you laugh, you were way behind them in terms of intoxication, although, the atmosphere is already pretty hazy.
It was definitely a surprise how Mary was so cheerful as you see them stretching out their arm to take a picture of you two, just when you notice and get closer to hug them tighter, they get distracted by a hand that takes theirs, you two turn around, the strange hand does not let go, it caresses Mary’s arm, you both look at a girl who smiles at Mary, said smile fades when she looks at you holding their arm.
"I'm sorry, are you a couple?" asks the girl as she hesitantly lets go off their hand.
"Something like that" you answer very confused.
"Yeah" Mary drawls, it takes them a while to react and they turn to look at you.
"I mean, yeah?" you try to rectify.
"No?" Mary inquires looking at you confused also.
“Let me know when you’re done riding that, then” says the girl at you when she leaves giving you a side eye. Your face contorted at those words.
Despite being sober enough to not be as expressive in how you feel, you couldn't hide your face and your reaction from Mary. They hold your chin, trying to get your attention, but you turn your face away, not sure why you feel humiliated.
The bar was too noisy to be able to think, much less express yourself as you wanted and you can't do it if you don't think first, you give Mary a hand sign that you'll be back in a moment and then head to the bathrooms of the bar, that long hallway in which the two of you had your first kiss, you almost managed to open the door when they pulled on your arm, asking you what was wrong, unfortunately, no words come out of your mouth.
“You know I don’t care about labels.” They whisper, hinting what you got in mind.
“Me neither, but it’s easier to choose one than having to explain”
“We don’t have to explain shit to anyone, we know what’s up, that matters most.” They hold your arms soothing with their fingers along.
“…I guess” your voice came out hoarse, not letting you say more.
“What’s wrong? You having doubts?” you shake your head vehemently “Hey, if somebody asks, we can just say we’re together. Isn’t it enough?”
“Yeah, sorry, I must be tired. I just didn’t like what that woman said…”
“What did she say? I didn’t hear”
“To tell her when I’m done with you, like… as if I’m the one in shift or something like that”
“Why does it bother you? We don’t have to prove anything to anyone…”
“I know that, damnit! it’s just…” You sound upset.
“Just…?”
“It only reminded me that we haven’t even…” you only sighed as if could be understood by that what you mean “And we haven’t because we barely see each other, I know it’s stupid, but if I keep thinking about that… and I don’t want to ruin the night talking about it”
“Hey, listen, nobody is gonna steal me from you, and vultures are everywhere. Don’t let it get under your skin, sweetheart.” They start giving you little kisses on your face, trying to make you smile. “I mean… we could just go, ya know?” they waggle their eyebrows a couple of times.
“Where?” you ask already getting nervous, making your frustration evaporate in seconds.
“Not my place, Frank’s there, snoring like a bear. Is Jenn back?” Mary smirks at you with impure intentions.
“They were supposed to come back today, but very late” you remember with a curious smile.
“So… what do you say? You think we got time?” they stick to your body, searching for your neck with their teeth.
“I don’t know, aren’t you drunk?” You say unsure, because they’re not making that grimace with his mouth that indicates that they’re getting lost.
“Nuh-uh!” Says in a dramatic tone and laughs afterwards.
“Liar, I don’t believe you.” You tease as you drag each other outside the bar without saying goodbye to the others.
…
During the way there was a small struggle between the two of you in the car because they were trying to put their hands in your pants, the idea of the driver seeing you and taking you out of the car made you too nervous. From a distance it might have looked like they were drunk, it was just that Mary was extra playful tonight, tickling you, kissing your neck in the elevator, "picking" a lint off your blouse or "shaking the dust off your pants” and straight up pinching your butt. You made sure to smile, so that the very few people who saw you, wouldn't think badly that this young metalhead with face paint wasn't bothering you and ruin the night.
Mary wouldn't even let you open the door, because their desperation was such that they pushed you against it to kiss you passionately, and honestly, the closer you were to entering the more you stopped caring, it was almost a mistake to turn around while they were still stuck at your neck like a fly sucking, barely without getting your hair out of the way, they were just already grunting softly, giving you goosebumps, with his arms wrapped around your waist pushing you from behind as you turn the key to the apartment to enter.
“Hey guys! Watcha doin’?” Jenn asks cheerfully from the living room, as soon as you get inside the apartment.
“Jenn! Thank goodness you came back, everything alright? How-how was your thing?” you say in a booming voice, barely stopping yourself from screaming, Mary at least you have the decency to halt.
“You mean work? Meh… boring” says your roommate as they eat a bowl of cereal and watching tv.
“Yeah, night shifts suck, am I right?” says Mary awkwardly hiding their crotch behind you.
“Don’t even get me started, I’ll just devour this and go to bed. You staying the night?” Jenn asks regarding Mary.
“Uh… yeah, you know just… sleep” says Mary in a very fake tone, trying to appear sane “Talk about, uh… the geopolitics during the cold war, ouch!” You elbow them on the ribs.
“If it’s ok with you, I know I didn’t tell you in advance, I thought you were staying late at work” you explain a little calmer.
“Alright, just a reminder that I am a very light sleeper.” You can tell Jenn’s comment has several layers to it.
“Don’t worry, I’ll put on some duct tape on her… Ow!” Mary was about to laugh at their own joke until you interrupted with another violent nudge and push them towards your room before they kept talking.
“You crazy kids, goodnight then” Jenn, comprehensive as always, doesn’t meddle much.
“Why don’t you ever shut up?” you tell them as you close the door of your room which is separated from Jenn's room by the kitchen and the living room.
“Why don’t you fucking make me?” says in a flirtatious tone, pulling the hem of your blouse up. In response, you grab them by the chin squeezing their cheeks and kiss them forcefully.
They were moaning because of your bites on their lower lip, you could feel the vibrations of their voice, you guide them towards your bed to sit without removing your lips from them, you tenderly take them by the thighs, they quickly take off your blouse and their shirt. Without giving you a break, they lower their head a little to pull the straps of your bra with their teeth, playing with them a little, both of you giggling. Suddenly you hear them wanting to burp but doesn't, a second later it seems like they’re having trouble breathing, you grab their cheeks, raising their head to ask him if they’re okay, you couldn't do it for a long time because they run off to kneel in your trash can and start vomiting.
“You did lie to me, you’re drunk.” You kneel next to them to brush their hair out of their face.
“I’m sorry, beautiful, I thought I was better than I felt.” They say not facing you yet.
“It’s alright, but don’t ever do that again. Let me help you get up” They didn't really require your help, but either way you wanted to get them cleaned up and forget what happened as quickly as possible, you couldn't help but grumble a little, which they noticed right away, making them feel guilty.
They lament while you accompany them to the bathroom so they can use your mouthwash, they manage to capture your melancholic look in the mirror over the sink while you wipe their face from the paints, shortly after, you get out of there to change your clothes into light pajamas.
“I just wanted to be with you so bad…” Mary whines as they get out of the bathroom, now only wearing their briefs.
“I don’t want it if it’s like this.” You get closer, resting your hands on their shoulders.
“Sorry…” They keep saying. At least Mary lets you guide them to the bed so they can sleep with you, funny enough, you ended up doing what Jenn was told.
“It’s fine, you big moron.” Your voice sounds calmer and happier, you get them to snuggle up with you, carefully you cover them with the blanket.
“Can I get just one little kiss?” Mary says pouting, a face you can't resist, you peck a kiss on their lips, wary that it doesn’t lead to anything else.
In the end you can't say that you're upset, just a little snubbed, but it's not wasted time being with them, the mere fact of being there together is something that at the beginning of the day you didn't have planned, so spending any time with them, especially the entire night is enough to be grateful; you hug their head against your chest and give them a few kisses on the forehead until they slowly fall asleep as they hug tightly your torso.
#Sore Kisses#mary goore#mary goore fanfic#blonde mary goore#mary goore x reader#mary goore repugnant#repugnant band fanfiction#repugnant fanfiction
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3, 19, 27
3. What’s something you learned about yourself as a writer?
Oh, man. I think for one thing, I've thoroughly settled into being proud of my writing. I don't feel like I need to couch my pride in self-denigration "just in case" someone thinks I suck. I've been working through the gifted-kid childhood trauma of being told I "must think I'm so much better than everyone else" because I got good grades. I remember being a teen and nearly having a panic attack at the suggestion that someone thought I was "bragging." (I hadn't even said anything, I was trying not to let anyone see the 100 on my paper.) So, yeah, I think that I've finally learned... I'm a good writer and I'm happy to say it! I've been doing it for years, I've got that 10K hours or whatever the rule is, it's a trained and honed skill and I am proud of it. It's weird to be on the other side of this huge emotional hurdle, and now I'm thinking about what challenge I should tackle in myself next.
19. Share your favorite opening line
Ahh I think it's gotta be Wildflowers. "It was a gray day in early spring when Nicholas the Punisher received his suicide mission." I don't usually put a huge amount of thought on opening lines - closing lines are harder - but I knew this one needed to be load-bearing considering the monster amount of story to follow.
27. Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?
Nothing huge, but usually I'll let myself indulge in some kind of financial splurge when I feel I've "earned" it, usually food-related, so uhhh I'm sure I went out to eat after finishing a couple of the big ones. "in the dark and out of harm" was my 50th fic on AO3 and I definitely got sushi to celebrate that! I think I had intended to maybe do something when I finished Wildflowers, but I had such a huge adrenaline/dopamine/good brain-whatever rush when I finished it, that a couple of days later I crashed so hard it was physical. Like, I felt like I had a mild flu for a few days. I even googled and found that post-project depression is a known thing, and I definitely had it! So if I had a nice meal it was a good bit later, lol.
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Back in Hawkins - Is She for Real? Part 1
Rating: General for this chapter, Explicit for the full fic
Warnings: No warnings for this chapter
Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, ofcs
Tags: Slow build, mentions of past trauma, AU - no supernatural events, everyone is alive, Billy Hargrove redemption
Chapters: Part 1 [PT 2] [PT 3] [PT 4] [PT 5] [PT 6] [PT 7] [PT 8] [PT 9] [PT 10] [PT 11] [PT 12] [PT 13] [PT 14] [PT 15] [PT 16]/ 16
Read on AO3 >>
Author notes: I've wanted to explore these themes for a quite a while. It wasn't until now I found a proper channel to try it. The theme is painful to me personally, yet I wanted to write this exactly because of that.
The story is finished. Tears were shed when posting the last chapter. There will be more Billy, Steve and Emma in the future 💜💜💜
::::::::::
Billy hadn't missed Hawkins a bit since he and Steve had moved to San Francisco almost eight years ago. Now he had been driving the rental car towards it all the way from Indianapolis where they had flown to with Steve. Even though this time he had chosen to go there himself, when the welcome sign of the city was finally ahead, he had thought for a moment that he'd just turn the car around. The city held so many bad memories that he actually had to remind himself that they were there for a celebration, not for opening all old wounds.
"Steve, we're here," he said nudging Steve's shoulder.
Steve woke up groaning and stretched his neck while fixing his position in the seat.
Billy glanced at him. "You got something there, babe," he said chuckling and pointed to his own chin. "Drool."
Steve wiped his chin yawning. He looked at the quiet early morning scenery passing by as they approached their destination. "Nothing's changed."
"It's so strange to be back here," Billy said and opened the window for he finally was able to smoke without having to worry about waking Steve up with it.
"Some houses were apparently actually painted few years after we left, can you believe? Oh, and they built a new spire to the church some years ago. Talk about development!"
Billy laughed a hearty laugh, and Steve couldn't help but to grin. He loved to hear Billy laugh. When he had started to laugh more freely, after he had started to understand that all feelings were OK to show, Steve had learned that Billy's laughter came all the way from his belly, and it always bubbled in the air for a gorgeous moment. Steve tried to make him laugh as often as possible.
"When I laugh at your worse material I really must be tired," Billy said glancing at Steve, smiling, and taking a drag of the smoke.
"Mom said everything is ready in our old room, so you'll get at least few hours of sleep before we have to be at Nancy's."
"Are they gone again?" Billy asked when he heard the flat tone on Steve's voice.
"Yeah. What else is new? At least we have the house to ourselves."
"I thought they were supposed to be home."
"This is one of those things that never change in Hawkins: them being unreliable."
Some time later Billy parked the car on the Harrington's driveway. He stepped out and looked around while Steve took their bags from the trunk. "I didn't remember how quiet it can be here. No wonder the neighbors were pissed off every time I left here with the Camaro around this time."
"Yeah, it was always a drag for my parents to try to handle it,” Steve said smiling, and walked to the door, opening it.
They went directly to their old room, the one above the garage. It too, along with the whole house, looked like it hadn't changed a bit.
"Does nothing really ever change here?" Billy asked.
"I don't think so. In good and in bad," Steve replied and set their bags on the bed. "Do you want something to eat? I'm starving."
"I'll have another smoke and hit the bed," Billy replied lighting a cigarette. He opened the window and sat down on the floor below it.
Steve looked at him from the door and had a déjà vu. It was the day when he brought Billy and his meager belongings to the room for the first time. Billy's arm had been still in a cast after it had been operated. He had still had some bruises left from Neil's very last beating, the one he did jail time for, and he had looked worn from being in the hospital and having to shower there without his beloved hair products and whatnots. He had sat right there, on the very same spot where he was now sitting, and smoking his very first smoke finally away from Neil's reach. Now, too, he looked a bit weary and tired. But everything else was different. The long blonde hair bleached by the sun fell over his shoulders and partly covering his face, and his blue eyes examined the nails on the hand that had been operated, now as good as new. The black Metallica t-shirt hugged his torso in a way that made Steve have all kinds of indecent thoughts. This Billy wasn’t anymore the same fragile boy who he had been back then. He wasn’t healed for sure, but he was getting better. What he definitely was, was a lot happier. And Steve loved him more than anything.
Billy caught Steve looking at him from the door. Steve had the goofy grin that meant that he was thinking probably with his crotch rather than his pretty head. Billy pulled his hair away from his face with his hand and smiled licking his lower lip. Steve woke up from whatever reverie he had been in, grinning, and Billy winked at him. "I thought you were starving, as in need of sustenance, not starving the other way."
Steve shook his head chuckling and started towards the kitchen. It felt good to have Billy with him. He felt that Billy had missed so much over the years when he hadn't joined him, the kids' graduation parties and Nancy's wedding. Billy just had never wanted to come with him, and he never forced Billy to do anything he didn't want to. Steve couldn't blame him. The good memories Billy had of Hawkins were far and between.
Billy wasn't sure if he'd manage to sleep at all. He hadn't dared to tell Steve the real reason why he had wanted to come this time with him.
The last few years he had been volunteering in giving surfing lessons to kids in foster care. He could see the impact he had on those kids, the difference his time and undivided attention did, even when it was just twice a month. After careful consideration he had decided that he wanted to give more. He wanted to give his time and undivided attention to someone who didn't have anyone - full time. And he didn’t want just one. Though it wasn’t as simple as that though, not to them or him. For them – as a gay couple, adoption would be difficult. For him - he was terrified of how he would manage being a dad. He had no skills in how to nurture another life the best way possible. All he had to draw from was something he didn’t want anyone else to go through. But he had Steve, who was mother-like like no one else he’d ever met. No matter how he put it, Steve was the reason he had been able to heal, and he was forever grateful for it. Steve always made sure he was doing well, and Billy tried to return it as much as he could. In which he sucked at times because of his temper and messed up experiences, but he was getting better at it. With Steve he just maybe could pull it through. But it was still just a dream that he had barely dared to confess to himself. So, here he was, back in Hawkins, because Nancy’s baby’s christening was the closest thing he could imagine having a real idea how it might feel, to have a child, and if it really was what he wanted.
When he finally got to bed, sleep remained thin throughout the five hours he managed to stay in, and he mostly stared at the ceiling. Steve had his arm around him most of the time, which was comforting. Unlike him though, Steve slept.
Finally Billy decided to get up. Instead of a smoke, he took his running gear from his bag and went for a run. The day was sunny and it was getting warmer as the summer was right around the corner. Billy ran through the familiar streets and past all the houses that he, Steve and all the rest of the gang had spent so much time during the extra year it had taken for him to graduate. Now things were different. Almost all of the kids were somewhere else studying, including Max. But he really hoped that he’d meet at least some of them today.
#harringrove#billy hargrove#steve harrington#harringrove fanfiction#billy hargrove redemption#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things#is she for real#Finney13 writes
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When I Run Away (You're Who I Run To): Chapter 22
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Word Count (Chapter): 2,349
Yaz woke up the next morning feeling unexpectedly good, all things considered. It took her a moment to pinpoint exactly why— but she was fairly sure it had something to do with the two people wrapped completely around her, both still asleep. Penny’s hair was fluffing up in Yaz’s face, and Yaz lifted her chin so she wouldn’t sneeze; and Rose’s face seemed to be buried in Yaz’s hair, with no consideration for whether or not she would be able to breathe. Yaz vaguely considered getting up, but it wasn’t a serious thought; she had all day to pace and worry, but right now she felt comfortable and safe, and that wasn’t something she could take for granted.
She must have dozed off again, because when she woke up, it was to Penny still asleep and Rose gently shaking her shoulder.
“Your sister’s on the phone.”
Yaz rolled over, pulling herself carefully out of Penny’s arms, and fell back to the pillow with a groan. “I was comfortable.”
“D’you want to talk to her or not?” Rose held out Yaz’s phone, and Yaz took it with a sigh.
“Hiya.”
“Yaz, where are you?” Sonya asked at the other end of the line. “Dad’s making enough breakfast to feed, like, six armies, and we’ve only got three extra people here, four if you count Ryan, and Nadira’s too small to eat her share. We need you.”
“Er— all right,” Yaz said, rubbing her eyes. “All of us?”
She could practically hear Sonya’s eye roll. “Of course all of you. D’you know Dad won’t shut up about something Penny said to him about his whole trash conspiracy yesterday?” She paused. “Actually, I should warn you. The flat’s full of trash. Awful timing, if you ask me.”
“Why—” Yaz shook her head. “Never mind. I don’t think I want to know.”
“You can ask him yourself, anyway,” Sonya replied. “When you get here.”
“Fine.” Yaz stretched, trying not to disturb Penny— although Penny seemed to be stirring, her eyes blinking open. “We’ll see you soon.”
“You’d better.” The line went dead, and Yaz dropped her phone on the bed.
“Any news?” Rose asked.
“Yeah,” Yaz said. “My dad’s making us all breakfast.” She glanced at Penny, who was pushing herself up on an elbow. “Morning.”
“Good morning,” Penny said, her words slurring together just a little. Her hair was all over the place, and Yaz resisted the instinct to reach out and smooth it down. “Did you say breakfast?”
“Yeah.” Yaz nudged Penny. “Get dressed and we can go.”
“Might have to grab something off the hotel breakfast first,” Penny said, already lifting her shirt over her head. “Blood sugar, and all that. And I’ve got medication. Promise I'll still eat whatever your dad’s got.”
“You know,” Yaz said, leaning back against Rose, “you might actually like my dad’s cooking. Similar palates.”
“Brilliant.” Penny had pulled on a long-sleeved undershirt and was now buttoning a short-sleeved buttonup over it. “Can't wait.” She glanced back at Yaz. “Are you getting dressed?”
Yaz groaned, turning her head against Rose’s chest. “Don't want to.”
“It's not that bad,” Rose cajoled, pushing gently at Yaz.
“Fine.” Yaz forced herself to slide off Rose’s lap and put her feet on the ground by her suitcase, bending over to sort through the clothes.
An hour later, Yaz, Rose, and Penny were at Park Hill, knocking on the door. Yaz's dad opened it with a grin, pulling all three of them into a hug.
“Dad!” Yaz protested, pulling away, and he let go. Next to Yaz, Penny stumbled.
“Sorry!” Yaz's dad suddenly looked horrified. “Didn't think— just wanted you to feel welcome.”
“Nah, that's all right,” Penny said brightly. “Worse reasons to get a bit wobbly, aren't there?”
“Suppose there are.” Yaz's dad stepped back. “Anyway, come in! Plenty of food.”
He wasn't kidding. He'd practically filled the kitchen counter with plates of eggs, rice, yogurt, pancakes, fruit, all of which had been picked at, but was nowhere near gone.
“How do you even do all this?” Yaz asked, shaking her head. She stepped around a trash bag— so Sonya hadn't been joking about that, then— and towards the counter. “Or fit it on this counter?”
“He was cooking for hours!” It was Nadira, who was sitting at the table with a mostly-empty plate.
“Just trying to help,” Yaz's dad said.
“It’s a great help,” Rose said, picking up a plate. She smiled at Yaz's dad. “Thanks.”
Yaz's dad puffed out his chest at the praise, and Yaz rolled her eyes affectionately as she reached for a plate. It was good, of course, that her family liked Rose, but Yaz always found it funny how easily pleased her dad was.
Yaz, Rose, and Penny filled plates and made their way over to the table, which was mostly empty. The Khans’ table could only fit four people, and even that was a bit of a squeeze, but the only one still eating now was Nadira, who was small enough that when Yaz, Rose, and Penny sat down, it didn’t feel cramped.
“I like your dad’s cooking,” Penny said to Yaz, shoving half a pancake into her mouth. She’d dumped salt on it, of course, in a move that Yaz knew better than to question.
“Tell him that,” Yaz said. She looked over to the kitchen, where her dad was now washing up. “Hey, Dad, Penny likes your cooking.”
He turned around, beaming. “Thanks!”
“That’s got you in his good books for the next hundred years,” Yaz said to Penny, not bothering to lower her voice.
“I heard that,” her dad called.
“Whatever,” she called back. “Where’s Mum?”
“Already at the hospital. With her sisters.”
“I’m going later,” Nadira said.
“Suppose I am too,” Yaz replied, giving Nadira as much of a smile as she could. To her dad, she added, “What about Sonya?”
“Went for a run,” her dad said. “She’ll be back soon.”
“Make the most of the peace while we have it,” Yaz muttered.
Rose laughed. “C’mon, she’s not that bad.”
Yaz raised her eyebrows. “D’you remember the first time you met her?”
“She wasn’t bad then, either!” Rose protested.
“Really?” Yaz asked, jabbing a bit of egg with her fork. “‘Cause I remember her sitting down and asking who you were, and why you were here, and what you were doing with me in London—”
“That was years ago,” Rose said. “She’s mellowed.”
“Yeah, ‘cause she couldn’t get to you.” Yaz glanced at Penny. “Really, I should give you a warning.”
“About what? Your sister?” Penny shoved a spoonful of blueberries in her mouth. “I can handle sisters. Been living with Donna for years, haven’t I?”
“You’ll see when she comes in here,” Yaz said.
“Don’t see what the fuss is,” Penny replied. “She was perfectly nice yesterday.”
“Yeah, but now we’re on her home turf.” Yaz shook her head. “Love her— don’t tell her I said that— but she has a history when it comes to my friends.”
Penny shrugged. “It’s still better than being bored at home.”
“You know, that's a good point,” Rose said. “We should come bug your sister every week.”
Yaz gave her a look. “Don't even joke.”
Rose just grinned back at her. Yaz flicked a bit of rice in her direction.
“Oi, eat your breakfast.”
By the time Sonya actually came back, Yaz was in the kitchen helping with the washing up, Rose and Penny having been roped into playing some kind of complicated make believe game with Nadira. The door opened, then slammed shut, and then Yaz heard Sonya’s footsteps disappearing down the hall.
Yaz dried off the last dish and went to sit with Penny on the sofa. The second she sat down, Penny yelped.
“Yaz, you can’t sit there! That’s the wall of my tower.” She gestured at the seat. “See?”
“Oh.” Yaz stood up and craned her neck until she saw the string that had been draped across the cushion. “Sorry. Er— can I sit somewhere else?”
Penny thought for a second. She moved over, pressing up against the arm of the sofa, and Yaz followed, carefully straightening the string.
“So,” she said. “Why are we in a tower?”
“I’m in a tower because I’m the princess,” Penny explained. “I don’t know what you’re doing here.”
Yaz looked at her and laughed. She had another string around her head, drooping towards her ear, and she was leaning back with her arms flung everywhere. In her T-shirt and jeans, she made for a very rakish princess, looking very much like she’d rather play in the dirt than— do whatever princesses did.
“Maybe I’m rescuing you,” she said. “Not that I think you need rescuing, mind.”
“No, Rose is rescuing me,” Penny said. “And Nadira. They’ve gone off to figure out their plan.” She paused. “‘Course, I suppose there’s room for someone else to steal me away. Or kidnap me. Could add for more excitement later.”
“Oh, yeah?” Yaz grinned.
“Or,” Penny added, “I could be a dragon in disguise, and you could be the real princess, and I’ve hidden you away somewhere, except you’ve escaped, and now you’re back in the tower—”
“You going to explain all this to Nadira and Rose when they get back?” Yaz asked.
Penny shrugged. “Don’t see why not.”
“All right, then. What do I do?”
“Get me with a sword or something?” Penny tried.
Yaz looked around, trying to visualize the “tower” around her. “D’you have a sword in here?”
“I don’t know,” Penny said. “You’re the real princess, aren’t you?”
“How dangerous are you?” Yaz asked. “As a dragon, I mean?”
“Oh, extremely.” Penny bared her teeth at Yaz. Yaz couldn’t help but laugh, and Penny broke character to grin in return.
“All right, then,” Yaz said. She straightened up, holding her head high. “Get out of my tower, you— foul beast.”
“Foul, am I?” Penny pouted.
Yaz nudged her. “Play along, won’t you?”
“Oh. Right.” Penny bared her teeth again. She reared back, and that was when Rose and Nadira came back in— or, more accurately, charged.
“We’re here to save you!” Nadira yelled, and then stopped short. “Why are there two of you?”
“Help!” Yaz called out. “The dragon is getting me!”
“Oh, no!” Rose ran towards Yaz. Penny gave an impressive growl, but Rose forged onward, stopping at the coffee table. “Nadira!” she called. “What will we do?”
“We have to climb the tower,” Nadira said. She clambered onto the coffee table and jumped from there onto Penny, who roared at her. Rose wisely stepped around the table with exaggerated climbing motions and jumped onto Yaz's lap, her legs bumping into Penny’s.
“How's this helping in the rescue?” Yaz asked, laughing.
“I don't know,” Rose said. “Not much space in the tower, is there? Got to sit somewhere.” She grinned at Yaz, and Yaz shook her head.
“If you say so.” On instinct, she wrapped her arms around Rose, and Rose’s grin grew.
“Oi, you're still under attack here!” Penny launched herself at Yaz and Rose, sending all four of them crashing to the couch in a pile.
Nadira wriggled out of it quickly, shouting, “Don't worry! I'll rescue you!” She began to mime like she was swinging a sword, and Penny reacted as if she'd been hit, her elbow jabbing into Yaz as she flung her limbs everywhere. Finally, she went limp, her tongue lolling out, her body a comfortable weight on top of Yaz and Rose. Nadira started tugging at her arm, still determined in her rescue.
“What are you doing?” It was Sonya’s voice. Yaz craned her neck from where she was pressed into the cushions, trying to see: Sonya, her hair damp, was standing over them.
“We’re playing castle,” Nadira explained. “Rose and I were trying to rescue Penny, but then she was a dragon, and then we were trying to rescue Yaz, and then I killed Penny with my sword.”
“You could join,” Yaz added, the usual layer of snark in her tone. “Be a moat monster or something.”
“You know I’m always the princess.” Sonya tossed her wet hair. A few droplets of water landed on Yaz’s face. “Anyway, if you’re done with the make-believe, Mum says Nani’s ready for visitors.”
“Why does no one tell me these things?” Yaz grumbled. She pushed herself up to a sitting position, twisting to face Sonya; Rose and Penny shifted to sit on either side of her. “Are you taking the bus?”
“Mum’s got the car.”
Yaz nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Tell me when you’re ready.”
“You’re assuming I want you along,” Sonya replied.
Yaz rolled her eyes. “Tell me when you’re ready,” she repeated.
“I’ll be a second,” Sonya said, pushing away from the couch. “Gives you time to finish your rescue, or whatever.” She disappeared back into the hall.
“Am I still dead?” Penny asked, looking around.
“You’re a ghost,” Nadira decided.
“Am I?” Penny looked positively delighted. “Brilliant. Do I get to float around?”
Nadira thought for a moment. “Yes,” she said. “And it means I get to rescue Yaz!” She grabbed Yaz’s arm.
Rose scrambled forward. “Oi, I thought I was doing the rescuing.” She winked at Yaz, and Yaz suppressed a blush.
Nadira rolled her eyes at her. “We’re a team.”
“Oh, all right, then.” Rose took Yaz’s other arm, and the three of them stood with great ceremony. As Rose and Nadira led Yaz away, Penny started up her dragon roar in a high, eerie register.
“Okay, I'm ready.” Sonya had entered the room again. Yaz turned around.
“Okay,” she said. “Let me get my shoes.” She looked at Rose and Penny. “You two all right here?”
“Never better,” Penny said.
“Says the one who's died and come back a ghost,” Rose teased. Her hand was still on Yaz's arm, and she let it travel down to give her hand a quick squeeze. More seriously, she added, “We’ll be all right.”
Yaz nodded. “See you tonight?”
“‘Course.”
Yaz let go of Roses’s hand and headed for the door.
#doctor who#my fic#fanfiction#when i run away (you're who i run to)#thirteenth doctor#rose tyler#yasmin khan#thirteenrose#thirteen x rose#doctorrose#thasmin#thirteen x yaz#yaz x rose#thirteen x yaz x rose#human au#fluff#slow burn#friends to lovers#polyamory#emotional repression#found family#disabled character#trans character#autistic characters#coming out#roommates#pre-relationship#developing relationship#chaptered
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beau wakes up calm.
it’s a feeling so pervasive that she’s almost unsettled by it. their lives aren’t calm right now, between eiselcross and vess de rogna and now these eyes that keep popping up all over her and caleb. any calm she feels is usually immediately overshadowed by guilt for feeling it.
but beau can’t find it in her to feel guilty right now, not when the tower is quiet and there is a large, warm arm thrown protectively over her stomach. not when beau can feel the tickle of hot air at the back of her neck as yasha breathes, steady and restful in a way she doesn’t get to be when she’s awake. beau considers learning magic just so she can stop time and give yasha all the rest she deserves.
for now, she slowly rolls onto her back, taking care not to jostle yasha or slip out from under her secure embrace. she rolls over and doesn’t open her eyes until she’s on her back, the mirror directly above her, waiting.
it’s a sex mirror. of course it’s that, because caleb said as much when he told her about it, and god, does she owe him a week’s worth of uninterrupted research or whatever nerdy thing he wants in return. it’s a sex mirror and she and yasha have checked that off their list already, at least for the first time. second, fourth, something--they have definitely checked that off their list for a quantifiable number of times, it’s just that beau doesn’t quite know the number.
it’s a sex mirror but it’s also not because it’s more, because beau opens her eyes and can see the two of them as they are now--wrapped together, heavy and sticky in the illusory sunlight, sheets draped carelessly across their legs. they look good together. it isn’t the first time beau’s thought that, and with any luck (and a lot of hard work), it won’t be the last. but this is the first time that beau’s had the chance to really sink into that feeling, to see the reality of it and commit it to memory.
beau takes her time looking, glances over her own familiar body and the way it melts against one she can’t wait to know better. she should be a little cold perhaps, given that the sheets don’t go any higher than her hips and she hasn’t been wearing clothes for a good couple of hours. but yasha is so very there, so wide and curled around her in a way that seeks comfort as much as gives it. she’s on her side, the parts of her that aren’t touching beau sprawled greedily across the expanse of the bed. beau could spend hours looking at this reflection of them, of yasha and the curve of her muscles; the way her skin actually seems to create a glare in the early morning light. it’s so bright normally, even brighter now for the nearness of beau. time is fleeting and the tower will disappear soon and so beau is greedy--she looks at the angle of yasha’s legs, the way she twitches her toes on the one foot that hangs over the edge of the bed. beau looks at yasha’s back, the slope and strength of it; she remembers how solid and warm it felt under her fingers just a few hours ago. beau has known how sturdy yasha is since they met--has lusted over it since then, to be honest--but to feel it within her grasp, to be pressed against it and to have it soften and yield at her touch…
beau would learn magic to give yasha the peace she needs. she would learn art to memorialize this moment and the way they look together.
she watches yasha sleep, clocks the way her nose is pressed into the crook of beau’s neck. she almost cries at the drape of yasha’s arm across her chest--a few inches down and she’d have a handful of boob. as it is, beau’s heart is beating a rhythm right into yasha’s palm.
beau turns her head away from yasha and clears her throat. “hey.” she clears it again when it becomes clear just how ragged it’s gotten. “dachsies, can you hear me? or do i have to yell.” she waits, straining to listen for the soft clink of a tiny bell or two. “frumpkin?” she tries again.
there is a faint ‘mrrp’ and the door to her bedroom opens slightly, just wide enough for a lithe fey cat to slip through. she can’t see frumpkin as he enters the room, but he’s there all of a sudden, jumping noiselessly and weightlessly on top of the bed.
he stares at her expectantly and beau wishes very much that caleb isn’t snooping, too.
frumpkin walks forward and sits next to her, the not-quite-fur of his tail swishing against her side. beau can’t help reaching out with the hand that isn’t trapped by yasha’s body and giving him a few scratches under his chin. he preens, closes his eyes tilts up to give her a better angle, and settles right back into his serious face when she pulls away.
“can you get the hot tub going again,” beau murmurs, “with some nice shampoos and shit? and maybe start working on a few dozen pancakes; i’m sure the others are gonna barge in here soon. make sure there’s a stack of spider ones for me and yash.”
frumpkin chirps again, butts his head against her chest as he jumps off the bed. beau reaches out to affectionately grab his tail, chuckling as it slips through her hands.
yasha is awake when beau turns back to look at her.
“hello,” yasha whispers. “good morning.” beau cuts her off with a kiss. “i love you.”
beau smiles at that, rolls over and presses herself firmly into yasha. she repositions yasha’s arm to wrap around her back, laughs when yasha drifts downward and squeezes her ass. beau kisses her again and again, slow and firm, catching any inch of lips or neck that she might have missed before. her hands roam without any destination, traipsing over the plane of yasha’s stomach, tickling at the dimples in her shoulders underneath which her wings sprout. beau knows how sensitive those spots are now, and she presses her fingers against them, syncs that up with another determined kiss. she doesn’t miss the way yasha’s tongue stutters against her own, the brief loss of contact she sacrifices to gasp, just a little.
yasha’s nails turn inwards and dig into beau’s hips, and beau returns the favor.
beau reaches upward and grips yasha’s chin, marveling at the fact that her thumb seems to fit perfectly over the line of black beneath yasha’s lip. she pulls away and tickles the skin there, can’t resist one more kiss, especially when it elicits that special, breathy kind of laugh from yasha.
she makes sure yasha’s eyes are open and looking at her before she speaks.
“i love you, too,” beau says, her voice deeper and hoarser than usual, even for the morning. “last night was...i won’t ever forget it, yash.”
“me either.”
“might have been the best night of my life.”
“not if i have anything to say about it,” yasha winks. “i wish we didn’t have to leave.”
“yeah,” beau sighs--breathes, really, and she falls a little more in love with the way yasha doesn’t turn her face away from what is definitely a bad case of morning breath. “we’ve still got some time before we have to, though. the dogs are setting up the hot tub right now.”
yasha laughs, deep and rumbly and beau feels it in her chest. “before all of you i never would have understood that sentence.”
“right?”
“mhm. it is--a very fun thing to think about.”
yasha gently lifts a strand of hair from beau’s face and tucks it behind her ear. beau watches the entire time, so entranced by the size and safety of yasha’s hands, so determined to follow their path with a kiss, that she misses yasha’s other hand coming up to rest behind her legs, and beau lets out a very uncool yelp as yasha lifts her from the bed.
yasha drags them across the mattress, stands and gets herself situated, and it isn’t until they’re halfway to the floating pad that beau clocks exactly how she’s being carried.
yasha’s arms are confident beneath her shoulders and legs, and beau has looped her arms around yasha’s neck instinctually, and tears start to well up in this moment of realization.
“yasha…”
yasha stops walking, leans down and kisses her, and it isn’t because they’re naked that beau is glad no one can see them right now.
beau flutters through her feelings and rests her head against yasha’s chest, silently, as they float gently down to the hot tub.
everything seems more muted in the daytime--the lionesses aren’t as imposing, the slides aren’t as tempting. but the steam and smells are just as inviting, and beau lets herself be carried into the water, settling into the warmth as yasha reaches for the soaps.
they both slip under the water; beau shakes her head and scratches at her scalp while she lingers, getting out the last of her restless energy. she pops back above the surface and drifts over to yasha, who has settled into the corner, her arms resting elegantly atop the stone edges. beau drops into yasha’s lap without a word, humming, content, as yasha’s arms slip back into the water and wrap around her body. yasha snakes her legs over the parts of beau that her arms can’t reach until beau is completely covered, completely enveloped in her love.
beau has always been attracted to women who could break her--big, strong women whose bigness and strength almost always equated to a good, long time in the bedroom. and yasha has that in spades--probably invented it--but it sure is fuckin’ something else to know that breaking is only half of it, that the flip side is that beau can be fully contained and sheltered in yasha’s arms. bigness is a comfort as much as it is a challenge. yasha uses her size to hold and cherish just as much as she uses it to fight.
beau sinks down so that her nose is just above the surface of the water, and tries her very best to pretend she isn’t crying. the effort is abandoned when she gets out of her head and realizes yasha is very carefully and very thoughtfully soaping up her hair with thick, gentle fingers.
beau sits up a bit and spits some water from her lips. “how come you’re so good at that?”
yasha takes a moment to think, tilts beau’s head back so she can rinse the shampoo out. “zuala and i didn’t have as much time together as i wanted,” she answers, “but we made sure to treasure every moment we were allowed.” she rubs her hands together, presumably spreading conditioner over them; beau can hear the slickness of it echo through the air. “i am able to follow a god because i had a wife once,” she says, quiet and matter-of-fact, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
god.
“well, fuck.” beau closes her eyes and tries to relax her shoulders as yasha’s hands knead through her hair again. “did you--i mean, i don’t want to overstep but--it was like this? all the time?”
yasha is quiet again, patient with her feelings and beau and the combination of the two. she slows her ministrations and rests her hands on the sides of beau’s face, her thumbs tickling at beau’s ears.
“the only similarity between the love i feel for zuala and the love i feel for you is that it is coming from me,” yasha finally says. “it was like this, yes--and it wasn’t like this at all. it was different because it was her. the whole world was different because it was her, you know?”
beau nods. “hope so,” she replies. “trying to, at least.”
yasha squeezes her cheeks, presses a kiss to the top of her soapy head. she gently pushes beau underwater and scrubs her hair clean with a little more force this time. beau lays back and watches, smiles as yasha scoops a hand underwater and brushes it over her lips.
beau sits back up feeling more refreshed and loved than she ever has in her whole life.
she swirls around to face yasha, lets the water guide her back to yasha’s lap. beau hooks her legs around yasha’s torso, lets the water hold her up as she drapes yasha’s hair over her shoulders.
“your braids could use a little touch-up,” she murmurs.
yasha, so sensitive and careful about her hair, simply nods and watches as beau lets it out, making tidy piles with the ties and ribbons on the ledge. yasha’s hair billows out once the last bunch is free; in the water, she looks beautiful and serene.
beau rests her hands on either side of yasha’s face, swipes her thumbs under yasha’s eyes as they kiss. “thank you,” she says, softly, “for loving me.”
yasha sighs and kisses her again. “you make it easy, beau. you don’t have to thank me.”
“i do,” beau insists. “for now, i do.”
she directs yasha away from the wall, takes her place in the shampoo corner. it’s a little different this time--beau can’t surround yasha quite as fully, and she has to wrap her legs around yasha and float to get a good angle to wash her hair. but yasha doesn’t complain, and she rests her arms on beau’s thighs and slides her hands over her legs, soothing and present. the water never cools off and the dogs are somewhere else, and for a few quiet moments, nothing in the world exists except this tub in this tower, hidden in a smelly, dirty tavern.
/
they’re clean and laughing in the kitchen by the time the rest of the party trickles in. beau can hear jester and veth speaking at cartoonishly loud volumes, announcing themselves just in case beau and yasha are doing anything worth being interrupted.
beau smiles, grabs a spider-less bite of pancake, and squeezes yasha’s hand.
“oh, here they are,” caduceus says as they file in. he takes a deep breath and smiles at the spread of food. “what a feast.”
he disappears, probably to make some tea, and beau looks at yasha for just a moment longer before the energy is too much to ignore.
she turns and almost bursts out laughing at the sight of everyone, lined up in front of the table, watching the two of them intently. veth’s eyes are as big as saucers and jester’s are shimmering, her hands clamped over her mouth. next to her, fjord is blushing and even caleb is sporting a smile, reluctant though it may look.
“hey,” beau says. she smiles casually and she means it.
“you’re so cute!!” jester shouts, flinging her hands away from her face. “oh my god, you guys, you have to tell me everything; i’m so happy for you even though we had to sleep in that super stinky room. please tell me it was worth it.”
beau laughs, winks as she tickles yasha’s hand. “totally worth it, jes,” she promises. she gets up from the table, kisses yasha’s knuckles as she does, and gestures for jester to take her seat. “talk to yasha for a sec, okay? i left you some spider-cakes.”
beau is too focused on grabbing caleb to notice the way jester scrunches her nose.
she doesn’t catch fjord’s eye as she leads caleb out of the room and she definitely doesn’t look anywhere near veth. she just drags her cranky wizard to a corner out of eyesight of any window in the kitchen and crosses her arms.
“if you’re about to tell me everything,” caleb says, “please don’t be offended when i say that i would be happier not to hear it.”
“what? no, gross. i mean, not gross-gross, but because--you, gross, right?” beau clears her throat, gently punches caleb’s shoulder to center herself. “i don’t...wanna tell you stuff. i just wanted to do this away from everyone else.”
caleb narrows his eyes. “do what?”
beau steps forward and hugs him. there’s no hesitation or coaching this time, just a strong press of her arms, and she stays there as long as it takes for him to hug back and mean it.
“thank you,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “this was….very special to me.”
“of course,” caleb mutters. “you need only ask, beauregard.”
“yeah, you say that, but it’s like--i know it, now.” to her horror, beau sniffles.
“i am glad you had a good time.”
“the best.”
“you smell very nice. thank you for bathing before hugging me.”
“i got you, dude.”
“can you let go of me now?”
“yeah, sure.” beau steps back and gives him one last shoulder squeeze.
caleb nods and squeezes back. he snaps his fingers and frumpkin is there, leaping onto his shoulder as they walk back toward the kitchen,
#critical role#beauyasha#beauregard lionett#yasha nydoorin#this is??? soft and gay and so much???#idk you guys i had a lot of feelings and this is what happened#i'll post it on ao3 later but for now i must eat something#long post#tumblr fic#cr: regular nein
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Hey folks! Took a bit for me to get back around to this; I got a new job and then a rarepair week hit, but I'm back!
The interest check survey got 46 responses, and 36 of those were people indicating they would be interested in participating.
I'm going to answer a few of the questions I got in the final section, and I'll make a post with general information later today.
Questions and concerns presented in the interest check survey:
Does the work have to be posted on tumblr or can it be posted somewhere else?
I will be making an AO3 collection, so people will be able to post there as well. If you do not have a tumblr, I will reblog here to the event blog.
some hesitation about poly just from the number of threesome fics in fandom already - obianidala, bailbrehaobi, codexwan, etc. not entirely sure there's any solution for that, however, and it would be good to see less straight (hah) triad works
While Star Wars does have a relatively high amount of threesomes, I would argue that they are not actually polyamory, as often as not, just a threesome. It's also a fairly small fraction of the overall whole; Star Wars is just so big that even that small fraction feels like a lot.
I intend to keep the polyamory prompt.
Just general interest about the details of the event- dates, additional rules, etc. I like the overall concept but don’t particularly want to end up in a fandom war by accident (just a general Star Wars fandom observation, not an accusation of those proposing the event)
I will be addressing this later today! The primary rules will be no bashing, tag appropriately, and keep the prompts and theme in mind when writing.
I probably won't be able to do much creating until like may cause grad school is eating my brain
We are currently looking at late June.
day 3 might be better phrased as bisexual or bicurious?
Nope! Day three “it may be M/F, but that doesn’t make it straight” is meant to touch on all those 'straight couples' that get flack at pride parades, even though:
One or both is bi or pan
One or both is trans
One or both is ace/aro
Any variation that is not cishet, honestly
If I adjust phrasing, it will be to “it may be M/F, but that doesn’t make it cishet”
I'm gay but don't really relate to the other categories so I'm not sure how I'd participate without taking away the voices of others or creating for an experience that is not my own.
Create away! You don't need to be writing about the dark and heavy vagaries of a queer existence; a sketch of a character waving a pride flag counts!
If you do want to work on something that is heavy or more complicated, there are plenty of queer people in fandom. You can probably find someone willing to help you brainstorm or look it over for major red flags.
With the event centered around queer characters - and I assume mostly being participated in by queer creators - I think it would be a good idea to have it in the event rules that aphobia/transphobia/etc must be tagged in fics. I'd also like to know if it's canon-only or if OCs would be allowed too, since that wasn't mentioned in the post. Either way, the idea sounds great and I'd love to participate.
Noted! Proper tagging etiquette is a big deal to me, and while I will allow wiggle room (e.g. if a person thinks it may bloat their tags to include everything, they can go with 'see author's note for warnings' and I will consider it due diligence), including proper warnings is a big deal.
I hadn't thought about OCs yet, but my instinct is that they can be included.
“Ace and aro spectrums” rather than “ace and aro spectrum (singular)” would be better since they are separate identities that don’t always overlap.
A good point! I'll adjust, going forward.
You had me at an ace day 🥺 also idk if I'd be able to participate in writing (deadlines for other projects in abroad for the first two weeks in June) but i would DEFINITELY consume content!!
As mentioned a little further up, we are now looking at late June.
This is an extremely weird thing to put in this box, but my friend sent the post about this challenge to me all pissy because "I don't know why poly people would be on here ahead of regular gay men and lesbians", and it made me, a genderfluid bi ace person, almost blind with rage. Thank you for making a space that specifically opens doors to identities that are less inherently known and understood in real life.
Absolutely baffling take from your friend, considering the theme is 'the queers we don't talk about,' so the entire point is to talk about stuff that is... not 'regular' gay men and lesbians. That. That's a bit of a red flag, oof.
I'm glad you're excited!
#star wars#the clone wars#star wars prequels#star wars rebels#star wars legends#star wars sequels#star wars original trilogy#star wars events#star wars event weeks#queer
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Black Cat For Luck (2)
Fandom: Sander Sides
General Warnings: None
Potential Warnings: Mentions of being eaten/Animals dying, panic
Characters: Virgil, Patton, Remy
Relationships: Platonic
Pronouns:
Virgil - Spook/Spookself
Patton - Fae/Faem
Remy - He/She/They
Summary:
Virgil is currently facing a very annoying issue; spook pissed off some old friends badly enough to end up with a curse. One that turns Virgil into a cat at night fall. It was an inconvenience, sure, but Virgil was managing it. That is, until a certain werewolf that's been rumoured to enjoy cat meat comes along...
[Halloween Exchange Fic :)]
This is an entry for @ts-halloween-exchange, where I funnily enough ended up writing for a good friend of mine, @tiny-peter-rabbit
Super stoked about posting, it was intended to be much longer of a fic, but I'm very bad at keeping on top of things, so it is becoming it's own series/au
Shout out to @stemroses for being a lovely beta.
Read on AO3 [here]
part one [here]
The spell was to wear off exactly twelve hours after it began; and so Virgil had until nine twenty-five am to get out of there - preferably alive. Unfortunately, Patton had decided to swaddle spook up after one too many, quite literal, hissy fits. It was undeniably warm and cosy, if not inconvenient, and the sleep Virgil had was better than any spook could remember.
That's why when Virgil was woken up, at seven am, scooped up by massive arms - spook felt extremely justified in the loud, drawn out meow spook let out. Patton simply laughed, gentle fingers caressing the bridge of the kitten's nose.
"Oh, I know kiddo, it's no fun getting woke up, but I have to go to work now. Got some little kiddos to look after."
Virgil scanned Patton's body, noting the colourful cardigan with little Teddy bears stitched on, and the lanyard around fae's neck - it was for a nursery Virgil vaguely remembers from the bus ride to work, full of random badges; be pronoun badge from last time, animal charity pins, and a few cute phrases.
Patton must be a nursery assistant, or some variant, and what a weird contrast to a person that clearly eats pets.
And what was Patton going to do with Virgil while fae went to work? Lock spook up in a crate? Force into a horrific feeding machine? Stick Virgil in an air fryer for an after work snack?
Once again, Patton completely threw Virgil for a loop, instead of anything horrible happening, Patton gently unrolled spooks tiny body from the purrito and placed spook in front of another bowl of creamy porridge.
"Here, kiddo, a nice breakfast! You eat that up nicely and I'll sort your little room out ~"
Room? Virgil lapped at the cream as spook mused, wondering what Patton could have in store, as the werewolf worked diligently in the living room area. Pillows and blankets were collected - as well as some training pads. Then, Patton used some plastic fencing to create a box shape around the area, assembling it in a little play pen. Shucks, was this all for Virgil? Who knew livestock would be so well cared for. The pen was fairly well sized, taking up most of the living room, probably meant for a whole litter.
Not very hungry, Virgil made spooks way over, just as Patton was planting hot water bottles and rice heating packs under the blankets and meowed for attention - Patton tended to talk a lot, even if Virgil wasn't expected to be able to answer, so hopefully spook could receive some information from prompting.
"Aww, hey kitty, come to check out your cool new room? It's just for when I go to work, something tells me you're a curious little cutie, but I'd really like you to explore when I'm around in case you get hurt. You've got everything you need, blankets, a place to go potty, a little pot of water, and toys - oh, you haven't eaten much. It's okay! I'll put it in here so you can eat it later." Gentle hands lifted Virgil up, and spook was becoming concerningly accustomed to the treatment, placing the black kit in the pen. "There we go, lovely. I'll be back to check up on my lunch break, I'll need to weigh you properly, check in with a vet, hmm. Where's my book, I should write this down…I also need to go to the craft store…"
Patton wandered off, presumably to find said book. Left alone, Virgil mused idly on Patton's reaction if fae came home, and spook hadn't been able to find a way out. What would Patton do if fae found a whole ass human waiting fae? Probably freak out.
"Okay, there we go, now I've got to go." Patton announced, strolling back into the room with a cute raincoat and travel mug. "I'll see you later, kitty. Be good."
Patton messed with the TV for a moment, and a channel named 'cat TV' came on. It was mostly videos of mice, birds, and other prey animals, with some nice music in the background - though Patton lowered the volume to a very modest four bars. Virgil could still hear it very well, but it was impossible for any neighbours to hear and complain.
The door shut, and after a moment, locked.
Well, Virgil mused, all I can do is wait to turn back. It's half eight now, apparently, so I've got an hour.
The wait was honestly rather tedious, Virgil didn't have much to do other than watch the boring television and stare at spook's surroundings. Patton's house was rather cheerfully designed, framed photos of presumed family members, and little ornaments of all sorts of cute animals. It was likely the only thing keeping Virgil's anxiety at bay.
Eventually the time came, a short tingle of magic energy and Virgil was growing like spook was in wonderland. Spook's foot jerked out during the growth, knocking the kitten pen over with the force. Oops. Virgil tried to stand much too early, quickly falling onto spook's ass. At least the fluffy carpet stopped it stinging so much.
"Right, right." Virgil mumbled, a little hysterical. "How to get out… Uh."
Rather dumbly, Virgil fiddled with the door, finding that it was rather predictably locked. Fuck.
"Fuck." it came out as a whine, as Virgil frantically searched for a second set of keys. None were found, and Virgil's panic increased.
Well, if there was something that helped Virgil through highschool, it was one very important mantra - in lieu of any door you can always jump out a window.
"This is crazy, this is crazy." Spook mumbled, skipping over to the window. It was already open slightly to let in fresh air, not worried about criminals climbing in at such a height. Virgil couldn't relate, spook couldn't remember the last time a window was left open in spook's apartment.
Shakily, Virgil stepped out of the window, onto the fire escape - accidentally knocking over a potted succulent, and frantically trying to get it perfect looking once more. Hopefully werewolves didn't have the supernatural deduction skills that vampires seemed to have, Remy could practically smell when Virgil borrowed his charger, before they even checked.
"Oh. I am so high up."
Virgil's hands were rather sweaty, trying to clamber up the grimey ladders to spook's floor. It was shaky, clicking ominously, and Virgil reminded spookself to double check the building's safety regulations again. If spook got through this, first.
One floor.
Two floors.
"Fuck, fuck, I can't do this. I'm gonna fall off." Virgil whined, shaking spook's head frantically. After a moment, Virgil sighed dramatically and continued the climb, because there was truly no other option.
Three floors, and there we are! The fire escape, attached to Remy's room. The vampire used it as a balcony, their Starbucks reusable cup and a small outside chair, perfect to chill on outside, before recklessly launching themselves off, transforming into a bat mid fall. Virgil hated to watch it, but it did make spook wonder if the transforming was just as uncomfortable for Remy, or if it was different since the process was natural.
Regardless, Virgil bit spook's tongue, gently knocking on the window. Remy would be asleep by now, and Virgil felt sort of bad for waking them up. Oh well.
No answer, which was odd, Remy was such a light and sporadic sleeper. Virgil knocked again, a bit more force.
Again, no one answered, so Virgil knocked once more, until eventually spook heard the click of the window being unlocked.
Before Virgil could think to open it spookself, the window was flying open, curtains pulled back dramatically. Remy was standing in their pyjamas, metal bat in their hands, eyes glowing red and fangs drawn. Virgil yelped and fell back, a terrifying moment of falling before spook hit the support railing painfully.
Owch.
"What the FUCK?" Remy yelled, dropping the bat and leaning forward to help Virgil up. "Why are you being creepy as shit rapping on my window??"
Dazed, Virgil accepted the help, absently rubbing spooks back at the sore spots. Without any comment, Virgil stepped inside, letting Remy shut the windows and curtains again.
"So? What was that all about, you creepy creep?" Remy tutted, rubbing at their eyes as the glow burned out.
"Huh? Oh. That. I'm sorry, Remy. Um, I had to climb up."
"Climb up? Shit, where have you been? I thought you'd gone out with friends when you weren't in your room. Are you wasted?"
"What friends?" Virgil responded, feeling a little clearer.
"Valid. But still, I was almost worried."
"Sorry about that too, but I did spend the night with someone else - not in that way, stop smiling! But they live a few floors down and um, accidently locked me in? So I had to escape."
Remy threw their head back and laughed, while Virgil burst into a bright red blush, just knowing that Remy had all sorts of dirty thoughts.
"Fuck, Virge, that's taking the walk of shame to a whole other level!" Remy's amusement trailed off into little giggles that Virgil couldn't help but be fond of, watching the vampire drop back onto their bed, patting the spot next to them enticingly.
"Come, give me all the deets! Look, you can even have a pillow if your ass is sore!"
"My ass isn't sore." Virgil sighed, pushing spooks bangs back.
"Ohh, I see, someone else has limped off to work?"
"Ugh." Virgil tutted, feeling way too ace for this conversation. "Stop being gross, I'm going to get some cereal and start working."
Remy gasped in offence, sitting up. "Uh, no! I wanna know what happened, I'm your roomie, I neeeeeeed to know!"
"There's nothing exciting to tell, now go to sleep, Remy. I can tell how tired you are."
Remy pouted, so Virgil gave in and sweetened the deal.
"Fine. I'll tell you when you're up. But! You are getting at least six hours of sleep before then."
Remy sighed dramatically and flopped back down, "You drive a hard bargain, you little squirt."
"And I'll donate a bag for you."
"You have yourself a deal, mortal." Remy agreed, in an overly dramatic 'Dracula' voice. Virgil rolled spooks eyes affectionately.
"Night, Remy."
Remy smacked their lips loudly, rolling over.
"Night, Virge."
#sanders sides#thomas sanders#tss#tss fanfic#tss fanfiction#virgil sanders#ts virgil#sanders sides virgil#cat virgil#virgil turns into a cat#kitten#patton#patton sanders#tss patton#tss virgil#werewolf patton#patton is a werewolf#a friendly wolf#that loves cats#remy#tss remy#sanders sides sleep#sleep sanders#remy sleep#remy is a vampire#vampires#werewolves#monsters#fanfic#fanfiction
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Chapter 6 - An Explanation Is In Order
Title: The Quantum Cat
Collaborator(s): ibelieveinturtles
Square (letter, number, and prompt): SWB: G1 - Humour
Pairing/Main Ship: N/A
Rating: T for swearing
Major tags: Sam Wilson, Goose the Cat, The Multiverse, The Quantum Tunnel, Not Endgame compliant, Everybody Lives (Eventually), Sam to the rescue
Warnings/Triggers: a little swearing here and there
Summary: Back on home soil, Sam and Ian bring Nick up to speed.
Word Count: Ch 6 - 547
A/N: This is *mostly* unbeta'd but I hope to have it properly edited before I post it on AO3. I'll be posting all 7 chapters on Tumblr for as long as September 1st lasts around the world and on AO3 later. The reason it's going up on Sept 1st is because it is the only day that the Sam Wilson Bingo overlaps with Samtember :-)
Chapter 6
Staggering down from the Quantum Tunnel platform, Sam turned and held his hand out to help Fury down.
"What the hell makes you think I need your help?" Fury demanded, half falling down the stairs.
"Just trying to keep you in one piece, Sir." Satisfied that Fury was okay, Sam turned to Boothby.
"What's the news on Goose?"
"Still sleeping it off in the kitchen. Lieutenant Torres says it hasn't stirred-"
"She," Fury interjected. "Goose is female. And what's this got to do with my cat, anyway?"
Boothby coughed. "Er, were you aware that your cat probably isn't, in fact, a cat?"
Fury scowled. "Of course I know she's not a cat, but how do you know?"
"Wait - you don't know how you ended up at Hogwarts?" Sam asked.
Fury scowled harder. "No, I don't. One minute I was ordering a margarita at the bar, next thing I knew I was a goddamn ghost."
"Your Not-A-Cat ate something it shouldn't have and then it ate a lot of people, including you," Boothby said.
"Huh," said Fury, and it looked to Sam like he was turning something over in his mind. "I always did wonder what happened to the people she ate."
Sam boggled at Fury.
"Are you saying that this has happened before?"
"Only to bad guys. Only to bad guys! Wonder what set her off?"
"Show him the tape," Sam ordered.
"Shouldn't we secure Goose first?" Boothby asked.
"She'll be fine," Fury said, waving a hand in the air. "Show me what happened."
They showed him. He boggled, then looked a little contrite.
"I swear, she's never attacked people on our side before. I guess those hors d'oeuvres didn't agree with her."
"Mmmhmm," Sam said, wisely.
"Okay then." Fury heaved a huge sigh. "So have you guys got a plan? You must have a plan, right? You did come and get me, after all."
"That was the plan," Sam said.
"The first part of the plan," Boothby corrected him. "Now, you secure Goose, so she doesn't er, eat anyone else, and the Captain keeps retrieving lost souls."
Fury nodded. "Who are you going after next?
Boothby's face fell. "Haven't worked that out yet, sir. We're still getting organised."
"How'd you find me?" Fury asked.
"Friday was able to detect your cell phone, along with several others. She also spoke briefly with Mr. Stark but that line of communication has deteriorated beyond use."
"So, we've got a list of coordinates and a list of missing people, yes?"
Sam and Boothby nodded in unison.
"I think Friday was able to identify the people whose cell phones she found."
"Good. So pick one and go get 'em. I'm gonna go retrieve my cat and then I'm gonna get shit organised."
"S.W.O.R.D. is here," Sam said, belatedly realising that Fury probably wasn't aware of their sister organisation's presence.
The scowl returned to Fury’s face, scowlier than ever, then it relaxed. Slightly.
"Is Rambeau here?"
"Who?"
"Their director. You haven't met yet?"
"No, sir."
Fury nodded and headed for the exit. "In that case, I'm gonna retrieve Goose, then I'm gonna go put S.W.O.R.D. in their place. You two - keep rescuing people."
Before Sam could muster an objection, Fury disappeared through the door.
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First post, woohoo!
Anyway, have some A/B/O non-con on this fine Saturday morning.
Honey In Your Voice, Poison On Your Tongue
Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier
Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Rape, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Forced Orgasm, Painful Sex, Crying, Dark Geralf of Rivia, Alpha Geralt of Rivia, Omega Jaskier, Dark, The Author Regrets Everything, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Witcher Signs (The Witcher), Humiliation, Knotting, Come Inflation, Hurt No Comfort, Breeding Kink
The village is poor, even a blind man could see that. Geralt should just keep going, but as he leads Roach away from the notice board, he catches a scent on the air that makes his mouth water.
The scent of ripe omega.
A moment later, a boy races around the corner, eyes wide and hair wild, and when he spots Geralt just standing there, he runs faster - towards him. He skids to a halt before Geralt, gasping for breath.
His eyes are big and blue, his hair brown and windswept. That sweet scent Geralt smelled earlier pours off of him.
"You're the Witcher," the boy gasps, pointing out the obvious. He's not a boy, Geralt realises, he's an adult, but a male omega and therefore slight enough to be mistaken for a teenager at first glance. The top of his head just reaches Geralt's shoulders.
"I am," he says, and the boy steps closer. Roach tosses her head, annoyed by the fluttery nature of the omega.
"Please, it's my sister! Something took her, she went into the forest and was just gone, please, we need your help!" He's almost crying now, and he reaches for Geralt's hand.
"What are you going to pay me with."
The boy's face falls. "I... We don't..."
"If you don't have money, I can't help you."
The boy's face hardens then, and he takes a step back. "You mean you won't."
"Same difference." Geralt turns away, even if his body is pretty much screaming to grab the kid and mount him right there in the street. He just smells so fucking good.
"Please," the boy says as Geralt starts walking, "she's only six, she must be so scared. Please help us. I'll do anything."
At that, Geralt stops. Anything, the boy says. Geralt smiles to himself.
Find the rest on the AO3:
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Steam
Steam | One-Shot | 2.8K | General
Title: Steam
Fandom: The Mandolorian
Pairing: Din Djarin/ Reader
Rating: General
Word Count: 2.8K
Summary: The kid (and eventually Mando) get sick and you've got to get creative.
Cross posted from Ao3 here
A/N: This is just some teeth rotting fluff that came to me at 2am. Enjoy! Also can’t forget to thank @soyelfuegoquearde for keeping my head on straight and beta reading for me! Bless you!
You wake up with sleep still in your eyes to heavy breathing and small coughs coming from the kid’s silver sphere. Sitting up from your make-shift bed on the floor, you open the kid’s sphere to find him still asleep but fussing. He had picked something up a couple of days ago, and you were starting to get worried but not as worried as his dad. Mando would pace in the belly of the razor crest as you slowly rocked a fussing kid.
"Have you tried tea?"
"Yep."
"Broth?"
"Yep."
"Medicine?"
"Yep."
Still pacing, you can hear soft mumbling coming from his voice modulator.
"He could get worse... he needs a healer... but someone might tell... it could get back to... he wouldn't be safe... he needs to be safe... needs to be okay."
This was the first time you had ever seen Mando --- Panicked? You reach out and grab his forearm with your freehand, stopping him mid-stride.
"Mando, he'll be fine. Kids get sick, it happens, but he'll get better. Look how strong he is," You finish saying as you boop his tiny green nose.
You say this to reassure him, but deep down, to reassure yourself too. You know how strong the kid is, but he was still so small.
Over the course of a couple of days, you had tried everything, but nothing seemed to work. He was still coughing, his nose was plugged, and when you put your ear to his tiny chest you could hear it rattle. On the fifth day of this nonsense, you had almost had enough. The kid was sick and grumpy because he couldn't sleep; you obviously didn't blame the kid. You just wished you could make him feel better. But if taking care of one person wasn't hard enough, you suddenly had to take care of two. Mando was worried and grumpy; he hadn't slept much either and was barely eating; all of his energy was focused on the kid. You practically had to push him off the Razor Crest this morning to catch his bounty.
"But the kid!"
"But the kid, nothing. You've spent two days just staring at him. He’s going to be fine!"
"But what if he gets worse?"
"We've got coms. I'll call you."
He turns around and looks you in your eyes (you assume).
"I can't go. My head’s not in it."
You cross your arms, unwavering in your stance.
"It's a dumb, rich teenager who skipped bail. You could do this with your eyes closed."
His head falls. No one speaks, but his thoughts are loud enough you can hear. You place a hand on the cold beskar of his helmet, the heat of your hand almost penetrating through the metal to cup his cheek.
"He will be okay. I'll take good care of him."
Mando lifts his head, knowing that you'd do anything for that little womp rat.
"What if I tell you I'll give you updates every couple of hours?"
"Every 30 minutes."
"Every hour."
"Deal"
His shoulders are still weighed by his paternal concern but with the assurance that his son is safe in your care, he turns away from the Crest and heads off to find his bounty.
A couple of hours passed since Mando went on his hunt; you had fed and given the kid some medicine as well as done your promised check-ins. As you sit down on the floor, leaning against the wall of the razor crest, still slowly rocking the kid, you start to hum a song your mom used to sing to you when you were sick as a kid. Continuing to softly hum, your eyes suddenly burst open with a memory from when you were younger.
Quickly you move the kid from your arms into his sphere to change into a pair of shorts and take off your shirt with your breasts still wrapped underneath. With the kid now back in your arms you head to the fresher. As a kid, your mom would turn the shower to the hottest setting and would hold you while sitting on the floor, enveloped by the steam and wait for it to loosen everything in your chest. And you had the exact same plan for the kid.
Slowly the small fresher started to fill with warm steam, continuing to rock the kid who, honestly, hadn't left your arms much in the last five days. You feel him begin to settle and take normal breaths. You feel Incredibly relieved; all you wanted in the world right now was for this little one to get better. Finally feeling some peace, you leaned your head back and let the darkness envelop you.
You couldn't remember the last time you slept longer than 15 minutes. If somehow the kid was quiet and not struggling, you'd panic and wake up to check on him. But right now, you feel something cool radiating beside you and soft caresses on your face.
"Cyare"
Your eyes flutter open, the lights in the fresher are suddenly very bright, but your eyes start to focus on the beskar covered man squatting beside you.
"Mando," you say very groggily.
Still lightly caressing your face, Mando explains "You missed the last check-in. I was getting worried."
This makes your eyes open completely. "Oh my God, Mando! I'm so sorry, we were in here, and he was feeling better, and we both fell asle-"
Mando cuts off your babbling. "It's fine, I was already on my way back, I was just worried-" glancing at his son sleeping soundly in your arms "about the both of you."
You can feel the heat start to rise in your cheeks, hoping it can be explained away with the heat still captured in the tiny room, you look away.
"He's doing a lot better," You say, still not looking up at Mando.
"That's good."
Mando reaches down and caresses his son’s small cheek. Small cooing noises come out of his tiny lips, and he further snuggles into your chest. This makes you look up to Mando with a smile. He’s already looking back at you.
Mando breaks the stare "Here, let me take him, you..." gesturing to your body, which you realize is more uncovered than your employer had ever seen from you before. Instinctively you pull the child and your knees closer to your chest, unsure what you’re specifically trying to hide. "You... um... go to bed, you haven't slept since he got sick, and you’re exhausted from taking care ---"
Of the kid, you thought.
"Of the both of us."
Oh.
You try and put up a bit of a fight. "No, I'm feeling better; I swear, you just got back from a hunt anyways."
"No, get some sleep. Let me take care of both of you... please"
That please melts your heart, he could have asked for anything and ended it with that please, and you would have given it to him, happily. Looking at the child once more, softly stroking one of his enormous ears, you hand him over to his dad. Even asleep, the little one knows what his father’s armour feels like and cuddles in closer. Mando stands up and reaches his free arm down to help you up; you take it happily.
As you stand in front of Mando, a yawn builds inside your chest, you try to cover it, but Mando cocks his head to the side, giving you a knowing look. You admit defeat with your hands and head over to the pile of blankets on the floor you call your bed. You pull a ratty old shirt that Mando had given you.
"I don't wear it anymore; you can have it."
Even though you washed it many times before, it still had his lingering smell; you tended to wear it to bed; it made you feel... safe. Before you finish reorganizing your nest of blankets, Mando speaks up.
"Take my bed. You deserve a better sleep than one on the floor."
Before you can protest, Mando cuts you off again.
"I won't be sleeping any time soon. He needs to eat and... I miss him"
Mando's occasional domesticity made you warm and slightly lightheaded. You’re not going to argue with a father about his kid, and he's right; you are exhausted. So without any further argument, you walk over, kiss the kid on the head, wish Mando goodnight and crawl into his bed.
Unsure with how much exact time had passed, but you know it had to have been many hours. Your body is heavy as you wake up, you could feel the lines of the pillowcase indented in your skin. You rub your face, hoping to get some circulation back. As you slowly crawl out of Mando's bed, you hear, singing? It is very soft and as you look around you find it’s coming from the fresher.
Nuhoy Verd'ika
Te me'suum'ika laam
Te Ka'ra dral
ca'nara gar vercopa
Hearing Mando’s deep voice sing this soft lullaby makes your heart soar. You tip-toe to the fresher door and open it just a smidge. Steam starts to escape; the kid must have started getting stuffy again. You see Mando curled over and rocking what you assume to be the kid, in pants but no shirt. Your eyes wander over his broad shoulders and back. He has many scars and some bruises. You imagine his body is littered with them... just begging to be kissed, but as your eyes wander up, you see hair. Beautiful brown messy locks but hair, Mando has his helmet off.
Nuhoy Verd'ika
Gar liser geroya nakar'tuur
akaanir nakar'tuur
parjir nakar'tuur
You panic and close the door. With your back pressed against the wall, your brain tries to comprehend what you saw. Mando couldn't have seen you, but if he did, you'd swear you hadn't seen anything. Well, you hadn't seen his face, so that wouldn't be a lie ...right? You would never want to be the reason Mando broke his creed. Sure, you always kind of wondered what your employer looked like, but his creed was much more important than your curiosity.
Nuhoy Verd'ika
gar aliit kar'taylir darasuum gar
Meh val chaaj'yc be'chaaj
kar'taylir darasuum kar'tayl nayc chaaj
Nuhoy Verd'ika
parjai shi olaror Verd'ika meg Nuhoy
As you hear a long pause, you think the song must be done, you realize you can't be found right outside the fresher, so you quietly bound over to your bed and start folding blankets, trying to look busy. Seconds later, Mando comes out still shirtless but with his helmet on. Thank Maker. Steam billowed out behind him like he was in one of your trashy holo-novels.
"Oh, you're up. How’d you sleep?"
"Good... really good."
Trying not to look at his chest, which you definitely fail at, and like you, he realizes how bare he is and instinctively pulls the child closer.
"Um, can you take him so I, um, can get dressed?"
"Yes! Absolutely!" Reaching your arms out. You do a little dance with Mando as he hands you the kid and tries to get past you to get his clothes, but you both are obviously flustered. Finally, Mando gets past you; you keep your back to him to give him some sort of privacy.
"He's feeling a lot better."
"Oh, thank Maker," you say as you rock the finally peaceful child.
"The steam. It really helped."
"Good, my mother used to do it with me when I was little, and we were running out of options," you say with a chuckle.
More quietly than before, "I don’t know what I'd do without you."
Your heart and stomach flutter, but with it sounding like it escaped Mando's internal monologue, you decide not to react.
-----
Days later, the kid got better like you knew he would, but man, you are happy for Mandos sake. What you weren't expecting was for poor indestructible Mando to catch it from the kid.
"Why aren't you sick?"
"I guess I'm just stronger," giving him a quick wink.
Over the course of a week, just like with the kid, you had to nurse Mando back to health. A week of forcing him to drink broth and tea and take his medicine, but just like with the kid, nothing seemed to help other than steam.
The first night Mando tried to do it alone, but he ended up passing out. So the next night you both got dressed in your lightest clothes, Mando, with his helmet still on he would lean against you, and you would shut off the lights. Anticipating the whooshing noise from Mandos helmet as he takes it off. The next five days, you both would spend a couple of hours sitting in the hot steam as he leaned against you and slept.
Your relationship began to slowly change. There were nights where you would sit in the cockpit and watch the stars go by telling stories. Sure you did most of the talking, but you could always tell Mando was listening, even with his helmet.
As you got more familiar it felt like Mando was always touching you. His hands, his body, constantly brushing up against you. When he reached for something, to get past you, just having a hand on you when you were in public. It felt like every chance he got he needed to be touching you. Slowly you started to get addicted to his small touches. You had no complaints you relished in the feeling of his gloves gliding across your body. Closing your eyes and enjoying the soft leather pads of his fingers or the cold beskar that covered his body.
Things dramatically changed between you two when Cobb offered you a job at the school.
“Come on Mando, don’t you think she’d make a great teacher for the little ones?”
“That’s not what I’m saying-”
“So, are you not giving her a recommendation?” Cobb elbows Mando teasingly.
“No, I-”
“Well, I haven’t said yes, but thank you for the offer Cobb, I’ll tell you my decision tomorrow.”
On your way back to the crest, Mando was quiet. Mando was always quiet, but this silence felt heavy. When you finally enter the Crest you've had enough.
“What’s wrong, Mando” catching his arm, making him turn around. His head was pointed at the ground.
“Are you going to leave?”
“What?”
“Are you going to leave? Leave the kid. Leave me.”
“Well, I-”
“Please don’t go.”
You place your hand on the side of his helmet. “I wasn’t going to leave. I care about the kid, you, too much. You guys… you guys are my family.”
There’s a long pause as your foreheads touch.
“Do you trust me?”
You only respond with a nod.
“Close your eyes...please.”
That please. You’d do anything for that please. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut.
You hear the recognizable whooshing of Mando taking off his helmet. It hits and rattles against the floor of the Crest.
You feel his soft breath before anything, his facial hair tickles your top lip, and his chapped lips press against your own. He starts to pull away, but you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It's an innocent kiss but as if Mando can feel the fire in your belly begin to grow he licks your bottom lip begging for entrance. Your mouths and tongues explore each other, but you both eventually pull away breathless.
“Wow, Mando, that was… wow.”
“Din”
“What?”
“My names Din”
-----
Now weeks after that Din and you had fallen into a pattern of domesticity. Intentional touches as you passed each other, sleeping together in his bed, even showering together in the dark. You couldn't be happier.
You were currently sitting on the ramp of the Crest watching the kid chase a butterfly around. Every time the kid got close, you’d clap and encourage him (but you also hoped it would scare the butterfly). Secretly you cheered on the butterfly, knowing the kid probably wanted to eat it.
“Hello, Cyare” Din says as he sits behind you and wraps his arms around your torso.
“Hello Mando,” Remembering only to say his name in private.
He rests his chin on your shoulder. Both of you sitting in the comfortable silence watching the little one run around. Your thoughts begin to wander.
“You called me that when the kid was sick; what does it mean?”
“Beloved”
“Beloved?”
“Yes, beloved.”
“But you said that before we were…”
“Together? Yes. You and that little one-” pointing his gloved hand at the kid who doesn't seem to be getting tired of this butterfly. “-Are my aliit. My Family. I will always protect you. This is the way.”
Leaning back you cuddle into his shoulder, and his arms softly tighten around you. You look at the kid and feel Dins heartbeat against you, and you know you're safe. “This is the way.”
-----
Translation For The Song.
Sleep little warrior
The moon is up
The stars are bright
It's time for you to dream
Sleep little warrior
You can play tomorrow
Fight tomorrow
Win tomorrow
Sleep, little warrior
Your family loves you
Even if they’re far away
Because love knows no distance
So sleep, little warrior
Because victory only comes to little warrior who sleep
#the mandolorian#the mandolorian x reader#din djarin#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#grogu#mandalorian and grogu#alix original post
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