#this fic will eventually be up on ao3... i just want to finish it first
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kdnfb's Ten Years of Fanfiction Mania
Featuring: Unmasked
Summary: Written under an Anonymous pseudonym ~M~ to fill the following prompt ~ Historical Katniss and Peeta hate each other. They attend a masquerade ball and for some reason end up kissing each other. Sparks fly everywhere. Katniss tries to find the man behind the mask but Peeta knows it was Katniss though he doesnt say anything. They end up bethrothed even if they 'despise' each other. How they fall in love is up to u and how katniss figured out it was peeta is up to u
Rating: E for explicit sexual content, explicit language, implied/referenced rape/nonconsensual (not everlark), implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced suicide, implied/referenced miscarriage, discussions of illness, war, and injury in a historical setting, ptsd, minor character death. They worst of these tags happens offscreen and is merely discussed and dealt with rather than shown here.
A/N: ~Unmasked~ is my longest fic in terms of word count (around 234k), although Outside Chance and Spellbound are not too far behind and are both incomplete. Unmasked started as something meant to be fun and cathartic, then turned into a ridiculously long and self indulgent fic that I still, to this day, have no idea if the anonymous person who submitted the prompt to @everlarkficexchange even read, let alone whether or not they liked it. But I love what I produced for this fic.
Why write it anonymously and only reveal myself later? A couple reasons. 1) Historical is not my wheel house. At least not writing it. I am a shameless consumer of historical romances. I did some research for this fic but not nearly the level I would've liked to have done. Eventually, I said screw it, it's about the vibes not the accuracy. 2) I had a pile of unfinished wips when I started this, to include Outside Chance and Spellbound (both of which are still unfinished hmmmmm) and I really didn't want a lot of questions about when I was going to get back to those while I was working on this because 3) I'd just gone through a small slice of writerly hell to the point that I seriously considered deleting my entire tumblr and all of my fanfic. Details are not important right now, the result is. That's probably the closest I've ever come to calling myself done with fandom.
Then this prompt posted to EFE and wouldn't leave me alone. Eventually, I decided that if I was going to write it, I wanted to write it with as little pressure as possible. So I chose to write and post it as ~M~ until it was finished. Plus, I thought it might make it fun for people other than me if there was a bit of mystery behind it. And I don't regret doing that.
Writing behind a mask allowed me to be as long winded and self-indulgent as I wanted to without worrying about how tight the storyline was or how accurate the historical details were, or wondering if I'd be walking into my tumblr and a barrage of the kind of messages I'd come to dread receiving. The only thing I worried about, really was if the amount and kind of smut I included gave me away prematurely lmao.
While this was my first real foray into the realm of historical fics, I am hoping it's not the last. I've got too many ideas and half started pieces to back out of it now. But those, like this one, will probably remain untethered to a specific real place, and a specific time, mainly because I just don't have that kind of time for research if I'm not getting paid to do it lol. They will be works of love if not works of accuracy.
Unmasked on AO3
#ten years of fanfiction mania#unmasked#unmasked nonsense#i meant to post this like three weeks ago#ooops
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We see a lot of chubby Steve/weight gain post-high school but I think it would be interesting to see some fics where he’s still in school. Maybe he has to give up sports due to the concussions or something?
You're right and you should say it!! I have a bit of that in my love spell no go AU, before Starcourt happens and Steve goes full trauma-fueled must be able to protect everyone I know mode.
So... might not be what you were hoping for but I wrote an almost 3k addition to that fic, during the part where Steve is still at Hawkins High. Swim is over for the year (and Steve avoids his pool now), and while he's still on the basketball team he's also smoking weed (helps with the nightmares, getting enough sleep, better mood, etc.) and snacking more. He's in the starter belly stage but has no complaints.
Part 1, (YOU ARE HERE), part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11 of the love spell no go au
The weed he bought from Munson is a godsend, and Steve wonders why he hadn’t thought of it before… only to remember that Nancy wouldn’t have approved. (Although she’s not a priss, exactly, she had barely even touched alcohol since the night Barb died. Until Halloween.) But he can sleep through the lonely nights now, which is worth even that hurtful pang of realization—that maybe, Nancy hadn’t been very good for him.
(Sure, she had helped him study. And his grades had improved. But sometimes, too, she would smile and say, “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” It had been cute at first, before Barb, when the smile had still been real.)
Whenever he thinks about that, or feels particularly lonely, he digs into his stash for a quick smoke out his bedroom window—never by the pool, not anymore. He gets into the habit of snacking after, even if it’s while doing his homework, because even when he’s a little bit stoned it’s somehow easier to focus on shit when he’s doing something else at the same time, and chewing works.
(Nancy hadn’t liked it when he’d fiddled with his pencil or a rubber band or a Rubix cube or anything while she’d quizzed him with flashcards, even though he’d tried to tell her it helped. She’d fussed at him about it until he’d just… stopped.)
Other times, he zones out in front of the tv while working his way through a sandwich or a bag of chips or a sleeve of Oreos. Or takeout, a lot of the time, because his culinary skills pretty much stop at sandwiches, up to and including scrambling an egg for a breakfast sandwich. But a man cannot live on scrambled eggs alone, he’s learned that the hard way, so pizza or burgers or pasta in cardboard containers it is.
It’s not just the munchies. After a while Steve gets into the habit of just… eating. It's not like his parents are around to notice, and Dustin and the other kids he babysits sometimes (for all that Mike protests that they aren’t babies and don’t need a sitter; what they do consistently need, however, is rides) don't care as long as he springs for enough that they can have some too. No one at school would dare say it to his face, and somehow it still doesn't manage to fully tank his slightly flagging reputation, but Steve is definitely starting to put on weight. He doesn’t care.
He starts going to parties again half for a change of scenery, half for a change of food options. Pizza still makes a frequent appearance, but there’s popcorn and flavors of chips that he doesn’t usually buy and various kinds of snack mixes. (His favorites are anything that include M&Ms.) Sometimes, there are even cupcakes or cookies. He doesn’t dance, doesn’t even drink all that much and sticks to just beer when he does, never the punch. Most of the kids who come to these parties are there for the booze and the makeout opportunities, but he turns up to people-watch, bopping his head in time with the music if it's a song he likes, and park himself by whatever food the party has to offer. Sometimes Steve buys from Eddie if he's there, offers to share joints with him that Eddie, still wary, turns down. When the food runs out, Steve leaves.
Tonight, though, Tammy Thompson just will not leave him alone and he’s at a loss for what to do about it. She’s been talking his ear off about wanting to move to Nashville and become a country singer the entire time he’s been working on this extra large pepperoni and sausage with black olives—not his first choice, but it’s still hot enough for the cheese to stretch whenever he picks up the next slice, warm tomato sauce and grease dripping down the front of his polo more often than he can always catch with a napkin.
“Did you want some?” he asks at some point, to be polite and hopefully indicate that he doesn’t care that she’s trying to tell him something.
He can tell immediately that it doesn’t work, because Tammy lights up from simply being addressed, even though her answer is, “Oh, no thank you, I’m a vegetarian.”
“Right,” Steve mumbles, and crams nearly half of his next slice of meat-laden pizza in his mouth. Maybe if he talks with his mouth full. “More for me, then.”
The words come out muffled, but she still beams and offers to grab him something to drink, jumping up and scampering off before Steve even has a chance to respond. He sighs, downs the rest of the beer he’s been nursing, and takes the new one she brings him without saying thank you. Between the next pieces of pizza he pops it open, chugs it, and belches; she puts a hand on his arm.
For a moment, at that, Steve feels a faint stirring of interest. He likes his food, did even before dropping swimming and picking up weed, and well before it started to show. Now that it has, he feels comfortable in his softer body. Good. And maybe… maybe he could handle dating someone who doesn’t mind how much he likes it. He imagines Tammy running her immaculately painted nails over his skin, places he’s noticed have been getting more sensitive lately, and suppresses a shiver.
“Could you pass me that bowl of M&Ms over there?” he asks, testing the waters. Yeah, he could probably reach it if he stretched, but he’s starting to fill up and doesn’t feel like putting the extra pressure on his stomach. He sits back a little in his chair instead, shifting to get comfortable and laying a hand on his belly where it bows out over the waistband of his jeans. “Sorry, just, you know. Big appetite lately.”
“Oh, that’s okay, I don’t mind,” Tammy says with a giggle as she fetches the bowl for him. “Besides, you’re an athlete! I’m sure you’ll work it off in no time on the court.”
And yeah, no, that vague interest curdles immediately. As far as Steve is concerned, the only parts of himself he wants to get rid of are all in his head—the heartbroken parts, the nightmare and trauma parts, the desperately lonely and needy parts. But he’s not so lonely that he’ll hook up with a girl who’s willing in spite of how he looks, because what else could she possibly be interested in? His personality?
He barely even has one. King Steve has always been bullshit, Nancy was right about that much.
Through the crowd, he spots curly hair and a flash of dark leather—Eddie. Good, he’d been hoping to buy more tonight, and this is as good an excuse to exit this conversation as any.
Steve grabs a handful of M&Ms to shove in his mouth and flips the lid of the pizza box closed, handing the bowl back to Tammy and taking the box with him when he stands. “Well, enjoy the rest of the party,” he blurts. “I’ve gotta go see a guy about some drugs. Bye!”
As he makes his escape, some girl that he thinks he might have class with or something just about shoulder-checks him, but he’s solid enough that she ends up stumbling from the impact instead. The glare she gives him could peel paint… which is actually kind of refreshing, after enduring Tammy’s simpering for the better part of an hour.
To Eddie’s perpetual frustration, now that Steve Harrington has started buying weed from him he can never seem to be free of the guy. Case in point: the “Hey, Munson, wait up!” that follows him to the backyard of tonight’s house party slash business venture.
He waits until he’s down the patio steps before whipping around, prepared to glare and snap an impatient what do you want, Harrington, but ends up staring at a pizza box that’s being shoved in his face.
“Pizza?” Steve says.
Eddie blinks at the box, then at the boy holding it. “This isn’t your party. Doesn’t that mean it’s not your pizza to offer?”
“It might as well be, I’ve eaten most of it,” Steve replies. “No one seemed to notice, that makes it fair game.”
Once, Eddie had been selling at a party and been bitched out for touching a single cookie, because those were for guests. He wants to scowl, but then his gaze flicks down to the partly open box and sees that there aren’t many slices left, eyes fixing on the evidence dripped down the front of Steve’s shirt and the way it’s… tight, across his middle. “You ate all but three slices of an entire extra large?”
He’s not sure what answer he expects to get. Maybe something like Of course not, dickhead, or maybe just, What, like it’s hard? But all Steve says is, “Yep.” And keeps looking at him with those sweet hazel eyes that seem bight and not too clouded by alcohol.
Still, Eddie is wary. “Okay… You first.”
Steve just shrugs and pulls out a slice, taking a bite before Eddie snatches it out of his hand. “Hey!”
“Just making sure it wasn’t poisoned first, sweetheart,” Eddie retorts, sneering for the excuse to call a pretty boy sweetheart in semi-public, butterflies stirring in his stomach at getting away with it. “Don’t worry, the rest is all yours.”
“Who’s tried to poison you?” Steve asks in a perplexed tone, folding the last two slices together to make a pizza sandwich and tossing the empty box onto the deck. Still following Eddie, because of course this is Eddie’s life. Love spell was a spectacular failure, but he’s still got the boy of his dreams following him around like a lost duckling because he’s got drugs. Fucking fantastic.
And Eddie doesn’t want to get into the whole thing—those rumors from when Eddie had been in seventh grade and Steve had been in sixth, for all that they’re both in the same grade now, about some kid who’d been sent to the ER from a bad reaction to itching powder. There were variations where it had gotten in his eyes and nearly blinded him, or on his food and made his throat swell shut, or in his underwear and turned his dick so red his balls fell off. In reality, he had only gone to the nurse with a bad rash and hadn’t even been allowed to go home, but it left a goddamn impression.
He doesn’t want to get into it, not if Steve either doesn’t remember the rumors or hasn’t connected them to his present day self, so he just rolls his eyes and says, “Are you looking to buy or what?”
Steve immediately brightens a bit, like a golden retriever spotting someone holding a tennis ball. “Yeah, I smoked the last I had before coming here but it’s already worn off I think.” And takes a big bite of his two pizza slices.
So Eddie leads him to a darker nook around the side of the house for the deal, trying not to stare at the way Steve’s cheeks bow out while he chews, like a damn chipmunk. It’s cute. He’s kind of angry that it’s cute, that there’s still a part of him that lights up when Steve looks happy, satisfied, content—and right now all of those boxes are checked.
“Want to smoke a little now?” Steve offers, once he’s paid and taken the baggie one handed, popped the rest of the food in his mouth, licked his fingers clean, and pulled out a pack of rolling papers. And Eddie pauses too long before answering, long enough that Steve takes the lack of refusal as a yes.
Which Eddie should correct, because he usually says no to that sort of thing, especially when he’s at parties specifically to sell. He’s turned Steve down before, even; it’s like the guy has a whole thing about offering whenever he plans on lighting up asap. Eddie knows better to fall into that trap.
But it’s a nice night. The weather is mild for spring, business has been good, and Steve licks his lips to get the last traces of pizza sauce before his tongue darts out to wet the paper and finish rolling the joint. Nice and tight, like the denim hugging Steve’s ass and thighs tighter recently. So Eddie sticks around, breaks his rule and tries to keep his face clear of any evidence that he is fixated on the few degrees of separation between smoking and kissing, heart hammering the entire time. He tells himself it’s a one time only thing, but knows he might be lying. Recognizes how addictive this could be.
“Thanks for being here,” Steve says after passing the joint back and forth a few times, his eyes glazed and drooping. “Really needed this tonight.”
“That’s what I’m here for, man,” Eddie replies. He’s leaning against the side of the house practically shoulder to shoulder with his crush, and the high washing over him is really taking the edge off the jagged yearning in his chest. Like, he still wants, but he’s happy just floating in the present moment, content with the indirect sharing of spit. And this is… This is okay.
Surprisingly okay.
It throws Eddie for a loop because it’s at odds with the whole King Steve image. The whole puppet master persona that isn’t a bully, but can with a few words cut someone down socially to where the bullies could reach them, if they so wish. Popular kids at Hawkins High walk around with their noses in the air like they’ve never smelled a fart and refuse to start now, but this is the guy they turn around and start brown-nosing. King Steve isn’t nice, he’s used to being waited on. Kings do not say thank you to the court jester for simply carrying out his profession.
Just Steve, though, is different. Just Steve is chill and finished most of an entire huge pizza while mostly sober, is filling out his clothes even better these days in Eddie’s opinion, and currently looks the most at peace he’s ever seen a person. No walls, no guard… Just Steve.
Okay, that one split joint had gone straight to his head, god damn.
“Well, I’m gonna take off,” Eddie announces, and can’t tell if he’s said it too loud or not. He pushes off the wall with a shake of his head. “You snagged pretty much the last of my inventory, so I’ll just get out of here before someone starts handing out the torches and pitchforks.”
Steve chuckles. “Like any of those guys in there know how to make a torch,” he scoffs. He manages to say it in a way that almost makes Eddie lean in. Makes him feel like he’s been let in on some sort of inside joke, like they could but those losers couldn’t.
Which is—Okay, so Eddie does in theory know how to make a torch, he’d looked into it for one of his earliest homebrew campaigns, but Steve Harringnton? The very idea of Steve whipping off his shirt, tying it to a branch, soaking the end in something flammable, and lighting it up is something out of fantasy. Out of specific fantasies that he has had. It snaps Eddie out of the hazy bubble of they that Steve had somehow created with just a few words, and holy shit. Was that one of the side effects of his wonky spell, or was that Just Steve?
“Yeah, sure,” Eddie scoffs back, putting more distance between them even though he does want to lean in, dammit, but he wants Steve to want it too. Even though it’s on the tip of his tongue to ask the guy if he has a ride home, or if he wants to swing by the mom and pop ice cream place on Main for desert or something; Eddie has been practicing swallowing down urges like that since he’d hit adolescence. “Find me next time you need to top up your stash, Harrington.”
He walks away fast enough that if Steve responds he doesn’t hear it, heading for the back gate that he’d left the house for in the first place. His van is parked strategically nearby for a quick getaway, just in case the party got out of hand and a neighbor called the cops.
And if his dreams that night feature a completely relaxed Steve Harrington chewing on never ending slices of pizza and that blissful look of peace on his face, his lips shiny with spit and grease, it’s not like Eddie is ever going to tell anyone.
Tag list (comment to be added): @hotluncheddie @8em-em-em8 @anaibis @connected-dots @lawrencebshoggoth
#love spell no go au#wg steddie#chubby steve harrington#eddie munson#mentions of past stancy#tammy thompson#i have nothing against tammy but she is very much pursuing steve because of the love spell more than anything else#pre-relationship steddie#this fic will eventually be up on ao3... i just want to finish it first
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Last Sentence Tag Game
Rules: Write the latest line from your wip (or post where you last left off in your art) and tag as many people as there are words in the line. Make a new post, don’t reblog.
Thanks to @existentialscientist for the tag! This is more than a line (felt odd not to have the previous paragraph for context) and not technically from the most recent thing I've poked at, but I need to motivate myself to work on this one again.
Padme steps carefully around the little speederbike parked just inside the entrance and then finds herself effectively in the middle of the apartment two seconds later. Ahsoka’s apartment is… small. Smaller than Padme’s closet. The single main room is furnished with a bed, a tiny kitchenette, and a door that presumably leads to a refresher.
“Do you want any—well, uh, water? I don’t have tea, sorry.”
– from Defiance, a Star Wars fix-it longfic that's been simmering in my WIPs for almost 2 years so far and is nowhere near finished
No pressure, of course, but I'll tag @squirrelwriter and @good-beans! And I know it's a cop-out, but if you're reading this and want to share something, consider yourself tagged as well :P
#Not a terribly exciting excerpt but it's the most recently added#And of all the WIPs I have this is the one I'm most determined to finish#...Eventually#A few chapters are complete but I want to get the whole thing at least fully drafted before posting#Maybe I'd be more motivated if I started putting them up but I KNOW my update schedule would be horrendously irregular#And I like being able to go back and edit early chapters at my leisure#...Perhaps if I'm really feeling it someday I'll put the first chapter up here and then start posting on AO3 when the thing is largely done#Also I'm slowly trying to post a bit more rather than simply dropping off finished art/fic and fading into the ether for weeks/months#I think this is the first time I've responded to being tagged in a tag game#Though I appreciate the previous couple times I have!#I'm just. Shy. I guess. Kind of? Maybe self-conscious is more accurate#And I'm also good at saying I'll do something later and then not doing that Cx#Patchy Writes#Patchy Babbles#Tag Games
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wonder what will happen first. me finishing the (first) teshes fic and publishing it, or tapas reaching That Chapter.
#just thinking about the fact that ao3 sorts fics by date updated by default#and i dont have any gen fics queued up#imagine youre a new reader. you just read the Most chapter ever which turns the entire story upside down#you go to ao3 for some solace#firstly the fact that theres less fics than you can count on one hand is pretty sad#and then you read the tags for the first fic on the list and go. huh. was this always this kind of story?#new kind of whiplash!!!#i feel a little bad for any potentail new lurkers bc im bringing an unhinged multishipper delusional energy to#a fandom with no fancontent#congrats your fandom gets one unhinged fan who yaps#apologies they talk only about their non-canon rare pair#anyway tapas will take an estimated 7 month to reach there#cracks knuckles we'll see#but also genuinely idk when this will get done bc the outline + 10% written is um. 10k words.#actually maybe i should prioritise a reed pov fic 🤔 i want to punch new readers in the solar plexus actually#like in a leaning into canon kind of way not in a hey i found a new blender to put tesilid in kind of way#also the fact that i have a total of 6 teshes fics that i absolutely intend to finish#vs my 2.5 gen fics that hv alr been published#if no new writer comes into the fandom then eventually two thirds of the fandom tag will be a non canon rairpair send help#ailette doesnt even exist in the teshesverse dear god
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Not Without You
Pairing: Lucien Flores x f!reader (nickname: Poppy)
Word Count: 2800+
Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!
Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Notes: Listen. I saw that clip of him making out in The Uninvited. That's it. That's the explanation. This is not betad. This one is for the sluts.
**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!
❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)
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**Reader is not described
Main Masterlist
Lucien Masterlist
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I get out of my car, staring up at the ridiculous mansion in front of me. The sound of the ocean, just out of sight behind the giant home, is soft and gentle in my ears, calming me. Giving me a little mental boost before I sigh, smoothing down my dress. I make my way to the front door, weaving between a few cars that were parked out front. Expensive cars.
It's not that I'm jealous of my childhood friend. Emilia deserves to be happy and she's happy that she married money. Some fancy producer out here in LA that fell for her big eyes and bright smile the second he saw her.
But that doesn't mean I wanted to come to one of her dinner parties, having to schmooze and pretend to be interested in what everyone has to say. I've been here before, met the people, fucked the party boy actor that eventually broke me, and yet here I am, unable to say no to Emilia.
I raise my hand to knock, dreading what the evening will bring but the door flies open before my knuckles touch anything. Emilia stands before me, a few rollers still in her hair, stress all over her body.
"Poppy, you're early! Thank GOD!" She pulls me inside and hugs me, the door closing heavy behind me.
"I always come early because you need me," I smile as she chuckles, lightly punching my arm. "What can I do to help?"
"You're angel, I swear! Can you make sure the table settings are right? There's extra silverware in the-"
"I know, Emilia. Everything like normal?" I'd been to so many of her parties, I know exactly what the set up is.
She nods, her smile growing wider. "Keep it simple and classy. You know me!"
I nod. "So what kind of party is this one? Another schmooze for Mr.?"
She waves her hand. "Yeah something like that. He's meeting with a bunch of actors for some upcoming project. He's hand selected them."
"Cool."
Emilia thanks me again before running off to finish getting ready. I pause for a moment, looking around trying to remember where the dining room is. I head down the hall and into what I think is the dining room. It turns out I remembered correctly, my eyes roaming over the table and making small adjustments to the settings already there. I end up pulling out more silverware, fixing them to Emilia's standards. I hate that I know this stuff, but I've saved her ass more times than I can count at these things so it helps to know what to expect.
As I work, my mind goes back to all the parties past. The ones she brought me to when she first started dating the producer several years ago. She had been so nervous, as if the producer wasn't already head over heels for her. That's where I met-
No. Not going down that road again. I can't do that to myself.
I shake my head and finish the settings, adding some minor touches to the decorations and finally lighting the candles. A knock at the door brings me out of my head and I walk over to answer it. An older gentleman stands there, putting out a cigarette with his shoe. He introduces himself as the director. What an ego.
Several people arrive after him, a mix of actors and a screenwriter. They all mingle in the sitting room for a few minutes before Emilia and the producer make their way in, everyone doing introductions.
The producer claps his hands together, looking around. "We're still missing one, but I doubt he'd mind us getting started. Who's hungry?"
Everyone gives their approval but as they move towards the dining room, a knock raps on the front door.
"That should be him. Guess I tried to start too soon!" Polite laughter at the producer as Emilia moves to answer the door, a quick glance in my direction before she disappears down the hall. The producer is telling some little story about a prior movie he was involved in, one I've heard a zillion times. But his story is short and he motions behind me.
"Just in time! We were about to eat. Welcome, Lucien."
My back stiffens. The room starts to spin my chest heaving. He didn't say Lucien. Did he? Maybe it was another Lucien. It couldn't be my Lucien? No. He's not my Lucien. He made that very clear when he wanted to continue partying and I wanted to settle down.
"Perfect! I'm starving."
Fuck. There was no mistaking that voice, the one that sets my skin ablaze, makes warmth pool between my thighs, the one that told me he needed to focus on his career and couldn't be with me. Not in the way I wanted him.
A small hand on my elbow squeezes me and I know it's Emilia, gently guiding me towards the dining room.
"I'm sorry, Poppy. He invited him and I didn't make the connection until the last minute."
"You couldn't have given me a heads up?" I yank my arm from her grip and swallow hard. I can't let him see how he makes me feel. He doesn't deserve that. I turn, letting the others file past me until he stops in front of me.
"Poppy. I..I didn't know you'd be here."
I'm determined to show him how much better off I am, that he means nothing to me now. I look up into his eyes and all of my resolve goes completely out the window. Were his eyes always that big? That round? So soft? I want to yank him to me by the thin chain around his neck, press my lips to his and never let go.
Way to show him, Poppy.
"I didn't know you'd be here either."
A silence stretches between us, a heavy, loaded silence. His eyes soften the longer he looks at me and is that regret I see? No. I'm projecting. But then he offers me his arm, taking me completely by surprise.
"We can be adults. Shall we?"
Don't do it. Don't take his arm, Poppy. Don't do it, don't do it, don't-
My fingers close on his offered up arm. "I'm sure this is a great opportunity for you."
Fuck, he's still warm. His skin smooth where my fingers touch him. Way to go, Poppy.
He escorts me into the dining room and I feel Emilia's eyes glued to us. He pulls out my chair and I sit, him scooting the chair in behind me before walking around the table, looking for his name card. Which was conveniently placed directly across from mine.
The producer clears his throat after everyone sits and starts making some speech about the project, about handpicking everyone here, blah blah blah. I zone out, trying to use my peripheral to steal glances at him. It's been several years since that night we split, the yelling match that had devolved into quite possibly the hottest sex I'd ever had. No, don't think about that. I need a better look so I turn my head to take a drink and chance a glance at him, only to find him already looking at me, still with the soft eyes. I nearly choke on my drink, managing to swallow it and clear my throat.
He finishes his speech and everyone claps politely, starting to eat and talk amongst themselves. I sit, deciding to choose silence while eating but then Lucien looks directly at me.
"So, what do you think?"
"Uh what?"
Fuck him with those big, stupid eyes.
He gestures towards the producer with his fork. "The project."
"Oh. Well I'm not involved so," I shrug. "I'm just here for Emilia."
He chuckles. "How many rollers were in her hair this time?"
I laugh, my body betraying me. "Four."
"But seriously. A good project?"
"I think..I think it's an honor he hand picked you. I'm not sure what the project itself is, but I'm sure it would be great for your career."
His eyes study my face as I take a bite of my food. "It's not always about the career though."
Anger surges up through me. "Isn't it?"
"How are we doing over here?" Emilia had walked up, cutting off whatever Lucien was about to say to defend himself.
"Great, Em. I'm just going to get something from the kitchen." I set my napkin on the table and push my chair back, Emilia giving me the smallest squeeze to my arm before I turn and head into the kitchen, the door closing behind me and effectively cutting off the sounds of the dinner party.
I lean over the kitchen island, my hands splayed out over the cool marble, trying to calm myself down. I hear the door open, the chatter from the party momentarily loud again before the door swings shut and it's quiet again.
"Em, I'm fine. Really. He just...caught me by surprise. I can hold it in."
"What if I don't want you to hold it in?"
My head snaps up, meeting his gaze, embarrassment making my skin heat up. "Oh. I thought you were Emilia."
Lucien takes a few steps towards me, the light glinting off the thing chain around his neck. "You didn't answer my question."
I stand up straight, crossing my arms. "We've done this dance before, Lucien. It didn't end well."
He smirks and I want to slap him. "I think it ended just fine. In the doorway, on the floor, in the front yard. I had to move my neighbors were too jealous."
My body betrays me with a small smile at the memory but then I reign it in. "I'm still not paying for that end table."
He's closer now. When did he move closer? Almost close enough to touch. His voice is low and raspy. "I'd destroy every end table on this planet if it meant having you under me again."
Fuck. Me.
I turn away from him, not giving him the pleasure of seeing what he does to me. "Flattering. But you made it very clear I was not number one in your life."
"I was stupid. I guess I needed to prove to you, to myself, that I could actually do this acting thing."
Finally composing myself, I turn to face him. "And how'd that work out for you?"
His eyebrows furrow together. "Have you not seen any of my films?"
I had. I had seen them all. I know I shouldn't have, that it wasn't helping me get over him. But Lucien has this pull, this hold on me I've never been able to fully shake.
"Some. But I'm asking your opinion. Off camera."
His jaw ticks a moment before he takes a swig from the glass I only just realized he was holding. "It brought me here."
I scoff. "Yeah, the producer hand picking you is actually a very high honor. I'd be-"
"No, you misunderstand." He shakes his head and sets his glass down on the counter. "I lied earlier."
It was my turn to furrow my eyebrows. "When? You've lied to me a lot."
"Earlier, when I said I didn't know you'd be here. I knew, well...more like hoped you'd be here. Knew it was a long shot but the only way you'd talk to me again."
My heart was racing, nearly bouncing out of my chest as he takes another few steps right into my personal bubble, my lower back against the counter. "I already told you I'm not replacing that end table."
He's right in front of me, the warmth from his body radiating onto mine. "I was a fool, Poppy. I..I love you."
I've waited years to hear him say those words to me again, to hear him actually mean them. To hear them not sandwiched between things like "but I have to focus on my career".
His lips are so close to mine, his breath fanning over my face.
"You broke my heart, Lucien."
"I know. I'm sorry. Let me put it back together."
"Lucien, I-" but he cuts me off with the softest touch of his lips I've ever felt, a whole slew of emotions flooding my body, including the one pooling between my legs.
"I can't do this without you, Poppy."
"Do this?"
"Life. I don't want to do it without you."
Fuck.
I grip that chain around his neck and pull him to me, our lips crashing together, his body pressing into mine. But then the counter scrapes across my spine and I jolt, breaking the kiss to gasp in pain. Lucien steps back, offering me his hand.
"Let's go somewhere where we won't break the furniture."
I shouldn't take his hand. I can still back out. But a small voice in the back of my head believes that he means it. That he wants a life with me, wants what I wanted all those years ago. And right now, I'm letting that voice win. I take his hand and he smiles, that smile that makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world. He guides me out the back door, past the pool, past the changing tents between the pool and the beach, and down the walkway alongside the neighbors cement wall that leads down to the beach.
He spins me and I laugh, tasting the salty ocean air on my tongue. I back up towards the wall and he follows me, lowering himself to my level. His large hands wrap around my hips, gliding down to cup my ass, and I moan into his kiss, my hand gripping his shirt to pull him closer to me. He kisses me, his tongue sliding into my mouth like it had so many times before. One hand still firmly on my ass, the other slides up my side, cupping my face so tenderly, full of love. He pulls back slightly and looks at me, like he's shocked I'm really here. That he's really kissing me.
"I love you, Poppy. I never should have let you go."
"Then don't let me go. I've always been yours."
He kisses me again, his hips pressing into mine and I can feel him hard, my cunt desperately throbbing, begging to feel him inside me again. Somewhere in my haze of desire, I hear myself begging, whispering pleas in his ear to take me, that I need him inside me before I die. His hands slide my dress up my thighs, reaching under and ripping my underwear in two, tucking them into his pocket. He had ruined so many good pairs of my underwear that way, but I honestly couldn't care less. My fingers fumble with his zipper, but I manage to get it down, reaching in to grip him, a sharp intake of breath when my fingers close around him, pumping him a few times. His hands slide under my ass, lifting me up as he presses me against the wall. He slides into me and the world stops moving, colors are brighter, and I finally feel right, like I'm actually here on this planet. Every thrust of his hips brings him deeper into me, holding me here, holding me to him. His breath comes out in short pants, desperate pleas of love and apologies between our moans as he fucks me against the wall.
And then the light blooming inside me breaks, my head pushing back, my nails digging into his skin, my entire body tingling as pleasure radiates out from where we connect. Lucien follows suit, moaning my name as he spills himself inside of me, pushing as deep as he can. We stay like that for a moment, trying to catch our breaths.
"I want to stay inside of you but my legs are fucking shaking."
I laugh and he yelps, quickly trying to pull out of me as my laughter contracts my body around him. He sets me on the ground and zips his pants as I smoothe out my dress, my laughter slowly fading. I look at him and he looks back at me, his eyes still soft and gentle. He tucks some hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek again.
"I wasn't kidding, Poppy. I was fucking stupied before. I need you next to me. When we're together, I feel...right. like I belong here. I don't think I can face this life without you."
I know it's a possibility this will end the same way it did before, but something in his eyes is different this time. He's had time to think, time to experience life without someone with him. Without me. He's grown, matured - well, matured some at least. But do I want to open my heart back up to him? Knowing that he could shatter it again at any moment?
"I'm still not replacing that end table."
He smiles and it lights up my entire world. "That's ok. I have plenty more furniture we can ruin with our love."
-------
General Taglist:
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#lucien flores x reader#lucien flores x you#lucien flores x f!reader#lucien flores x female reader#lucien flores#the uninvited#the uninvited ff#the uninvited fanfiction#the uninvited fanfic#lucien flores fanfic#lucien flores fic#Lucien Floires ff#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal character ff#pedro pascal characters
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Starting My Sagau Writing Journey
Ok Im wanting to dip my toes into the Sagau writing scene and I wanted to put out about 3 ideas I have and plan on writing. Each idea will be outlined below and people are welcome to take inspiration off of them just make sure to tag me in the writing. There will also be a poll at the end where you can vote for which one you want to see first. When I finish writing each chapter they will be put up on AO3.
Shimeji AU:
For those who don't know, Shimeji is a browser extension that spawns a chibi version of a character onto your browser. This character can then move around and climb on the borders of your web page and just be a cute little distraction (I know this might sound like malware but its not I've had a Venti and a Lumine Shimegi for a while now and haven't experienced anything that can imply they are malware)
This would be more of a drabble and less of a full fic.
Basically the characters in genshin become aware through their Shimeji and then begin acting up in your browser when you're out of the game (when you're in game you're fine).
If you leave your web browser opened when you leave your computer you will come back to it being on a weird page
Like Venti looking at a wine website
Diluc somehow ending up on a streaming service watching Batman
Yae Miko finding your writing
I'll likely start off with characters from Mondstadt and go down the list for each region.
Kidnapped by the Harbingers (not the final title):
Exactly as it sounds, in the middle of the night you are taken from your college dorm (or room I likely won't specify) to Teyvat after the harbingers find a way into our world.
Haven't decided which harbinger will be sent (leaning towards Childe because I feel like it would fit best and he'd be down for that type of experiment).
Most of it will take place in a separate castle from Zapolyarny Palace.
If you want to know my specific location I have in mind their is a visual novel called Dottore And The Spy where you become Dottores apprentice (highly suggest this visual novel) but its main story takes place in a castle in the middle of a frozen wasteland away from civilization where both Pantalon and Dottore live. This will be the main location for the story.
I'll also be adding in Capitano as another permanent resident of this castle because I want to write about a big strong man who is the emotional intelligence of the three main harbingers present.
The other harbingers and the Tsaritsa will appear but they will be much more understated in their role.
I want this fanfic to go into the mental load that being locked away from the world has on a person's psyche.
Readers' powers will slowly awaken, making it harder for the Harbingers to keep us a secret from Teyvat and specifically Celestia.
This won't be a full blown yandere fic with the harbingers, they will be slightly possessive but it is more about your safety since Celestia doesn't like you.
Celestia will be the ultimate enemy over all but the story will not be focused on shooting down Celestia from the sky as readers powers will not ever reach the strength needed to face Celestia alone.
Harbingers plan will not have changed; they are still working to take down Celestia.
This will be taking place after Sumeru (so no Scara or La Signora and their will be less clones)
The story will also include
Getting to know and bond with your castle staff like maids or ladies in waiting (I know these are typically only given to female presenting reader but I want to write about gossip and forming friendships so this is what I'm going with)
Quality time with each harbinger
Impressing Dottore with your basic levels of knowledge on Astronomy (since Teyvats sky is fake)
Eventually a runaway arch
Lots of tears and mental breakdowns, but don’t worry there will be comfort as well
Shenanigans
Possibly NSFW after reader finally convinces everyone to stop calling them “your grace”
To Make a Haven (Title might change):
Imposter (but reader is the real deal) AU
Reader gets killed once by a mob of NPCs
I want it specifically to be NPCs so the reader still has emotional attachment to the playable characters
Reader seeks out a safe and secluded place
Teyvat awakens to readers distress and opens up a hidden area of the map to the reader that can only be accessed through very specific means.
Reader eventually starts bringing in Hilichurls to what for now im going to be calling “the Grove”
Reader will begin messing around and experimenting with her powers and finds a way to somewhat heal the hilichurls
This isn't a full fix it will be like layering a curse on top of a curse in order to negate some of the effects of the original curse
The hilicurls will not return to being human they will become something else (human like but not human)
This fic will contain way more original characters
Reader will be more spiteful in this fic but less in like a “make everyone suffer” way and more like “lets shake up the system and make everything more challenging for people because they tried to kill me”
This fic will span over a larger span of time in world with the reader building a full city in the hidden area Teyvat made for them.
Well those are my three ideas! after this poll is done I'm hoping to get the first chapter out with that week, but I'm a college student and it been a while since I have written fanfiction so i make no promises.
#sagau#genshin sagau#fatui sagau#fatui harbingers#fatui x reader#genshin impact fatui#self aware genshin#sagau x reader#sagau cult au#genshin impact sagau#sagau impostor au#yandere sagau
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Run Rabbit Part 2
You, Joel and Tommy settle into your situation. A continuation of Run Rabbit Part 1, found on Tumblr here.
PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS. Written as part of the @romana-after-dark Dead Dove December event (but posted late because it's impossible for me to make a deadline at the moment apparently.)
Relationship: Joel Miller x Female Reader X Tommy Miller
Warnings: DUBCON (reader is a captive, participation might be enthusiastic but consent is dubious under the circumstances.) Raider!Joel; Raider!Tommy; Captive reader; Canon-typical violence; graphic depictions of violence; graphic depictions of injury; attempted SA (not by Joel or Tommy); Dom/Sub dynamic but not an established relationship; Dom-ish Joel; Brat tamer-ish Joel; Sub-ish reader; DDDNE; M/F/M threesome; unprotected P in V sex; Anal sex; Oral sex; No use of Y/N; Minors DNI 18+ Only. This part is filthy, OK? There are two dicks. They're put to good use. The end.
Length: 17.9k (If I knew what the fuck my problem is, I'd tell you, I swear.)
AO3 | Fic Masterlist | Full Masterlist | Previous Part
You were oddly relieved when Joel and Vince came back the next afternoon. Tommy heard them coming, one ear cocked toward the door when the front step creaked, and he turned back to you quickly.
“They ask, you’ve been tied up til a few hours ago,” he said. “All my idea to untie you, OK?”
“OK,” you said, frowning a little but not arguing with someone else taking the heat. You didn’t want to piss off Joel. He seemed to run this whole operation and you wanted to stay on his good side. At least until you could get the fuck away from here.
But he wasn’t upset that Tommy had untied you. He seemed to expect it. Even though he did bind your wrists again almost the second he was in the door.
“Here,” he said once you were tied again, digging in his pack. He pulled out a few bottles of shampoo and conditioner and body wash and hand lotion, setting them on the table in front of you. “Thought you could use that. Might make you more comfortable.”
You frowned, picking up the shampoo as best you could with your tied hands. You looked at the bottle for a moment, as though it was going to reveal something to you somehow.
“Why do you care if I’m comfortable?” You asked eventually.
Joel shrugged.
“Don’t need you to be uncomfortable. Need you to keep us alive. Don’t have to be miserable while you do it.”
The books kept you busy for a few days, the men sticking close to home for a while. Joel had come back with a nasty cut on his leg that you needed to treat after a few days of him trying to tough it out. He unbound your hands for that and Tommy brightened a bit when he did only to deflate when Joel tied you up once his leg was stitched up. About a week after they got back, the men hauled in water from the rain barrels outside, layers of ice forming on the top. They warmed some up over the fire and partially filled the bathtub, Tommy untying you as they did.
“Gotta be quick,” Joel said. “Don’t trust you to not take off on us but we’re movin’ tomorrow, may as well get clean while you can.”
“Moving where?” You asked as Tommy gently pulled the last of the rope from your wrists. You stretched and rotated your joints before you absently traced the indentations in your skin.
“Not for you to worry about,” Joel said. “Just you and me to start. Vince and Tommy have some shit to finish up down this way first. You’ll be slower to travel with.”
“I’d be faster if you untied me and I could keep my balance.”
Joel scoffed.
“It’d be faster if you got with the program, little girl. You’re mine now, not gonna just let you take the fuck off no matter how hard you try.”
You glared at him but followed him to the small bathroom when he guided you there.
“I’ll be right outside this door,” he said. “Don’t think about tryin’ anything.”
“Yeah, because I’ll just climb out through a pipe,” you muttered, closing the door behind you. They’d put a lantern in the room so you weren’t in the dark, at least.
You got undressed, folding your clothes and setting them on the toilet that was now totally useless as anything besides a chair or a shelf. The fabric was stiff with dirt and sweat and signs of life after you’d lived in it for weeks and you doubted it would ever be clean again.
The water was warm when you lowered yourself into it, barely coming up over your hips and the tops of your thighs, but enough to get clean. You scrubbed every inch of yourself and washed your hair twice, the water gradually shifting to a sickly gray. You didn’t mind. You felt clean for the first time in well over a month. The last time you’d had a bath, it had been warm enough to jump in a river without freezing half to death. You tried not to think about how long that had been.
But, when you got out, you realized that you didn’t have clean clothes in the bathroom with you and you weren’t about to put on the old ones now that you were clean.
“Shit,” you muttered to yourself.
“Tryin’ to cause trouble in there?” Joel asked from the other side of the door, making you jump.
“No,” you rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. “I just didn’t think to grab clean clothes before coming in here and my old ones are disgusting.”
“Oh,” Joel said, voice oddly gentle. “Um… just… one minute.”
“Can’t go far,” you muttered, trying to dry yourself as best as you could with the scrap of towel that they’d left you in the bathroom while trying not to freeze.
To his credit, Joel was quick.
“Got my eyes closed,” he said. “Open the door.”
You clenched your jaw a little but obeyed, trying to hide your body behind the the door as best you could. Joel held jeans, a flannel, underwear, a bra and socks out to you in a haphazard pile in one hand, covering his eyes with the other. You snorted.
“What.”
“Nothing,” you said, taking the clothes as best you could. “Thank you.”
“Yup.”
You went to close the door but jumped and shrieked instead. Perched on the edge of the tub was large mouse - or was it a rat? - trying to work its way down into the water without sliding in. You jumped onto the sink on instinct, half of the clothes tumbling to the floor while you clutched the rest to your chest as Joel came bursting in.
“What!” He asked, looking around for some kind of threat in the tight space.
“Rat!” You yelled, pointing at the thing on the stained porcelain. “There, on the tub!”
“Shit,” he grabbed the bucket next to the tub and moved for it but it saw him coming and took off, darting between his legs and into the main part of the house where it was met with a sickening thud.
“Got it!” Tommy called and you watched as the tension left Joel’s shoulders.
Your body relaxed, too, even though you flinched a little at the thought that you’d been living here with that thing for who knows how long.
“You alright?” Joel asked, looking at you. His eyes trailed down over you before coming back to your face and you remembered, suddenly, that you were naked, just a pile of fabric on your lap and held to your chest to hide the parts you’d want to protect the most.
“Fine,” you said, clutching the clothes tighter to yourself, your heart beating faster than you wanted when you realized just how close Joel was to you. “Just… surprised me, is all.”
“Right,” he said, eyes dropping to your chest again before quickly coming back up. “Get dressed. Be quick.”
He stalked out, slamming the door behind him, your heart still thudding against your ribs.
You got dressed quickly, too jumpy to properly savor the feeling of clean clothes on your clean body. When you emerged from the bathroom, Joel was nowhere to be found. You frowned a little at that as Tommy came back inside, hauling more water to warm over the fire.
“He stepped out,” he said. “Don’t gotta tie you up quite yet.”
“Right,” you said, folding yourself into a corner of the couch. Vince watched you from his place at the small table, finger idly tracing over the blade of the knife he was sharpening. You narrowed your eyes. “Can I help you?”
“No,” he sat back a little further in his chair. “Just clean up good.”
He adjusted his pants and you tried to ignore the sickening feeling in your stomach when his eyes stayed on you as he did.
Tommy finished refilling the tub and glanced out the window where it was starting to get dark before he looked back to you.
“Why don’t we call it a night early,” he said. “C’mon.”
You looked at him skeptically for a moment.
“If you’re not in here for him to tie up…” Tommy trailed off.
“Bed time it is.”
You followed him deeper into the cabin, no more hint of fear there when you were alone with Tommy. He’d had every opportunity to hurt you. He hadn’t done it. You weren’t sure if you were just desperate for someone to be attached to or if you’d have always come to trust Tommy. But that didn’t much matter. You had what you had.
“Gotta promise not to take off on me,” he said, his voice low as he sat cross legged on the bed, grabbing the deck of cards from the bedside table. He started to shuffle. “He really won’t let me get away with goin’ easy on you if we gotta go run you down again.”
“Why do you listen to him?” You asked, keeping your voice quiet, too. “You’re brothers, right? Just talk to him… or take over.”
He scoffed.
“Did take over for a bit,” he said. “Right after the outbreak. Did the best I could, little rabbit, but… didn’t go well. Miracle either of us are alive. But he wasn’t in any shape to figure shit out so that left me…”
“What happened?” You frowned as Tommy started to deal. “Was he injured? Is that why he wants a nurse around so bad?”
Tommy was quiet for a moment, staring intently at his cards, a hard look on his face.
“He… he was hurt in the outbreak,” Tommy said eventually. “Still got some of the scars from it. He wasn’t able to make decisions for a while. Had to carry him for a bit, make sure he stayed breathing. I… I’m not cut out for that. Especially not with Joel. It’s better that he leads, trust me.”
You looked at your hand, not able to picture Joel as anything but what he was. Cold and calculating and always in control. Picturing him hurt and weak made your chest get tight. You weren’t sure why.
“Game’s Gin Rummy,” Tommy said, clearing his throat. “Usual stakes.”
When you could hear Joel talking to Vince in low tones in the living room, Tommy folded his hand and gestured to the bed before lying down. You took your spot next to him, hands folded over your stomach.
“Can’t I go with you instead?” You asked quietly, head turned to see him.
He looked over at you before for a moment before turning his eyes back to the ceiling, settling down into the pillow.
“No,” he whispered. “Joel has his reasons. Just… Behave yourself. He’s not gonna hurt you. I know he seems scary but he wouldn’t hurt a woman if he doesn’t have to. Don’t push him.”
When Joel came in, you pretended to be asleep. You felt his eyes on you, heard the grinding of his teeth and, eventually, the creak of the floorboards as he settled in to sleep.
The two of you got started early, your hands bound in front of you almost as soon as you were awake.
“Not gonna get away with so much without my brother around,” Joel muttered as he wound the rope around you. “Don’t try and push your luck, little girl.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you muttered, your attitude tempered by your meek tone. You were about to be alone in the woods with this man for who knows how long. You didn’t want to push him too far.
Tommy and Vince were outside when you left, getting ready to go do whatever it was they were going to do. You didn’t want to know. Tommy watched as you disappeared into the woods with his brother and you looked back over your shoulder at him, not ready to let go of the comfort you found in his soft, brown eyes.
“Shouldn’t get so attached, little girl,” Joel said after you’d been walking long enough that you were sure you were out of earshot.
“Attached to what?” You frowned, glancing back at him, breath rising in front of you.
“My brother,” he said. “Watch where you’re walkin’.”
You obeyed, looking ahead.
“What makes you think I’m attached?” You asked.
“Sure seem to spend a lot of time together if you’re not,” he said.
“What, you jealous?” You asked before you could stop yourself. You snapped your jaw shut after the words were out. You had to get your mouth under control. It got you in enough trouble before the world ended let alone when you were on the wrong side of a raider’s rifle.
Joel snorted.
“Just know Tommy,” he said. “Never found a broken thing he didn’t want to save and he just doesn’t know when to keep his fucking distance. Night of the outbreak I was bailin’ him out of jail because he beat up a guy who was roughin’ up a waitress. It’s a habit he needs to break if he’s gonna live through this shit. You’re just another symptom of his problem.”
That made your stomach clench. Part of you had thought - or maybe just hoped - that you meant something to Tommy. It bothered you that you didn’t. It bothered you more that it mattered. You shouldn’t care, beyond the fact that his affection for you might help you stay alive.
But, with Zach gone - Zach, who likely hadn’t cared all that much for you, either, given how he handed you over to these men so easily - you had no one besides Tommy. You’d never had no one before. Being so utterly alone was horrifying in a way that even cordyceps weren’t. You weren’t sure you could handle it.
“What makes you think I’m something he’d need to save?” You asked instead.
“Little girl…”
“Woman.”
“Little girl,” he said again. “All alone after traveling with some guy who was willing to trade her pain for his life? What about that don’t need savin’, desperate to know what I fuckin’ missed.”
“What’s wrong with a little attachment?” You asked instead of answering. “What, do you not have friends? No wife or girlfriend?”
“Attachment gets you fuckin’ killed, that’s what’s wrong with attachment,” he snapped, voice more bitter than you were used to hearing, enough that you looked back at him. His face was hard but his eyes were more raw than you’d ever seen them, the pain sharp and harsh and full. You stopped and faced him, searching those eyes for a moment. It was easier to see the resemblance with Tommy now that he wasn’t so closed off and guarded, the moment of weakness bringing his latent humanity to the surface.
“What happened to you?” You asked quietly, brows drawn together as you traced the planes of his face with your eyes. You’d never really looked at him before, not like this. There had always been a hardness to him that made you look away, like he was dangerous to even look at too closely. It reminded you, now that you thought about it, of something you’d read once about Chernobyl. How the nuclear material from the reactor was so radioactive it melted film and destroyed robots that tried to investigate, let alone what it did to mortal bodies. So poisonous nothing could survive being close enough to really look.
But, in this moment, he wasn’t that. He was just a man who had seen and felt and been taken apart too much. There were scars on his otherwise smooth skin, the most prominent at his nose and temple and you had the strangest urge to reach out and run your fingers over them, to cradle his face and trace your thumbs over the rise of his cheekbones and tell him to close his eyes for a while, to let it all go for a while.
You weren’t really thinking when you raised your bound hands to touch his skin but he didn’t let you get that far, snatching your wrists out of the air and ripping you harshly to him, making you yelp and stumble.
“I am not your fucking business,” he snarled. “And you’ll keep your goddamn hands to yourself unless I tell you otherwise.”
He shoved you back and you almost tripped over a root but you managed to stay standing, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.
“Move,” he ordered. “Eyes on the fuckin’ trail.”
You looked at him for another second, the cold cruelty of him back in his eyes. You sniffed but obeyed, turning and following the trail.
You didn’t say anything else until you stopped for lunch, in a valley that hadn’t gotten snow yet. He pushed you down onto a log and stood over you, broad and domineering.
“I go take a piss, you’ll stay put, right?” He asked. “Or do I need to do that right in front of you to keep you from fucking around?”
“I’ll stay put,” you muttered, not looking at him.
He went into the trees and you sat on the log, staring into space. For some reason, you felt - for the first time - that this was going to be your life now. That you’d always be with Joel and Tommy and Vince and that you’d be at their mercy forever, a tool in their arsenal of pain as they took whatever they wanted from what they called their territory. You’d be trapped and never have a chance at a semblance of a life again.
The tears came even though you didn’t want them to, spilling over and feeling hot on your cheeks against the cold air. You heard Joel start to return through the brush and you tried to will yourself to stop fucking crying but you couldn’t manage it, your body mourning the loss of any kind of life you’d hoped to have.
“The fuck is your problem?” Joel asked as you sniffled and dried your eyes on your sleeve as best you could with your bound hands.
“What do you think?” You snapped, voice wobbly and wet. “This is my life now, isn’t it? Until the day I die - which will probably happen when you get bored with me or decide I’m more trouble than I’m worth and shoot me for it - I’m just some… some… some thing that you haul places and use when you need and I’ll never have another friend or have anyone care about me ever again and I think you can fucking deal with me being upset about that since you’re the one doing it, OK? Just leave me alone.”
You pulled your knees to your chest as best you could from your place on the log and tried to bury your face there, anything to keep Joel from seeing your pain.
A few moments later, you felt the log shift below you and Joel nudged you gently.
“C’mon,” he said, voice oddly soft. “Need to eat something. Got a ways to go yet today.”
You sniffed.
“Not hungry.”
Joel was quiet for a moment.
“We can wait a bit,” he said eventually. “Making better time than I expected.”
You ignored him, still trying to force yourself to stop crying.
“Not gonna kill you,” he said.
“What?” You pulled your head from where you’d buried it, sniffling a bit.
“Not gonna kill you,” he said again. You frowned at him. “Just… you said you thought you were gonna die when I got bored with you or… I’m not gonna kill you. Well, you try to kill me or Tommy I might. Or you get bit. Or take off on us. But… short of that, not planning to kill you.”
“Great,” you sniffed. “Lemme know when plans change I guess…”
Joel huffed a small laugh.
“Not gonna change,” he said. “S’not that I really like killing people. Got better hobbies than that. And I try to avoid killing people who don’t deserve it and people I don’t have to kill. You don’t deserve it so I’m not going to kill you unless I have to, it’s simple as that.”
You looked at him for a moment, your tears slowing.
“Why do you do it then?” You asked. “The stealing and the hurting and the killing? If you don’t like it…”
Joel looked at you, his eyes searching yours again, a hint of the openness that was in them before.
“I’m not losing my little brother,” he said eventually. “So I’m going to do whatever I need to do to make sure he stays alive. Right now, that means hurtin’ and killin’ more than I really want. S’OK. I’ll pay that price, long as he stays alive.”
You watched him, eyes trailing over those scars again.
“You really think that’s the best way?” You asked softly. “All that killing? All that hurt? It’s got to hurt you, too, do you really think…”
“Better than the alternative,” he cut you off. “Shit like handing ourselves over to FEDRA for them to lock up in a fuckin’ QZ or being sitting ducks for other people willin’ to hurt and kill first. Better this way, little girl. Trust me on that. Keeps him alive, that’s the important thing. That’s why you’re here. Something happens, it’s not a death sentence. All that matters.”
You nodded slowly and sniffed a little. Joel reached forward, his hands still seeming so big, and gently brushed his thumbs below your eyes, drying your tears.
“You’re alright,” he said softly, holding your cheek in his palm. “S’not so bad. You’re mine now. Take care of what’s mine.”
You just looked at him, his eyes on yours for a moment, before he cleared his throat and pulled out the bag of jerky, holding it out to you. You tried to reach your bound hands inside but the opening was too small and you made a frustrated noise when he laughed a little.
“Hold on, I got it.”
He pulled a piece out and held it out to you. But when you went to take it, he pulled it away and you frowned as he put it just inches away from your lips.
“Open.”
You kept your eyes locked on his as you obeyed and he put the salty meat on your tongue slowly, pressing it down into the muscle. You waited until he took his hand back to close your mouth and you chewed, holding his gaze as you did. He got out another piece of jerky, holding it in his thick fingers until you swallowed. He held it up like he did before and you let your mouth fall open so he could feed it to you, his movements disorientingly delicate for a man so large.
He fed you that way until you had your fill of the jerky and he pulled out an apple and a knife, pressing the blade into the crisp flesh of it and cutting a slender wedge. He brought the first piece to your lips, the fruit balancing on his thumb and the harsh metal.
“Open,” he said, something low and gravely in his voice. You obeyed and he put the apple on your tongue, the juice of it brushing your lips and making you lick them as he pulled the knife away. He cut a slice off of his own and you watched as his mouth slipped dangerously close to the sharpened edge. He kept his eyes on you as he brought the knife back to the apple and cut into it again and you opened your mouth for him to put the slice inside, the blade that had just been against his lips brushing your own.
When it was gone, you just looked at him for a moment, watching as his thumb ran over the blade, wiping away all signs of the fruit on the knife before putting it away.
“Come on,” he said, getting up and grabbing a handful of fabric at the nape of your neck as though you were a disobedient kitten, hefting you to your feet. “Want to clear at least 10 more miles before we stop for the night.”
“Where are we going?” You asked as he picked up the overstuffed pack that was carrying all your supplies and his. “Why couldn’t we just stay where we were?”
“Not a great place to ride out winter,” he said. “Other spot’s closer to things we’ll need but far enough away that we shouldn’t run into much trouble. Stayed there last winter, too. Worked well enough.”
“And you’re, what, just hoping no one’s taken it since you left?” You asked as he nudged you forward. You looked back over your shoulder at him as he shrugged.
“Just take it back if they did,” he said. “Shouldn’t get there ’til tomorrow night, anyway. Expect Tommy and Vince round midday the day after. Watch where you’re goin’, can’t have you breaking your fuckin’ leg out here…”
“Tomorrow?” You frowned before looking straight ahead. “Where are we stopping tonight?”
“Somewhere that looks good,” he said. “We’ll be sleeping rough.”
“Do we have the gear for that?” You asked looking back at him to see him glare at you before you looked forward again. “It’s cold…”
“Thought you were some outdoorsy thing, little girl,” he said. “Can’t handle a little cold?”
You hated being cold. You didn’t say that.
“More worried about you,” you replied. “You drop dead on me out here, makes my life a whole lot harder. Have to try to cut myself out of these damn ropes…”
“Not dropping dead on you,” he said. “Keep goin’, don’t waste your energy talking to me…”
You rolled your eyes a little but pressed on, putting one foot in front of the other and trying to ignore the imposing man at your back.
Joel called for a stop hours later at a small indentation in a cliffside that was protected from wind. He set out the bed rolls and fed you again, just like he had at lunch, each piece of food going from his hands to your lips.
“Can’t we have a fire?” You asked, trying not to shiver as the sun set. Joel looked at you, incredulous. “What?”
“Why do you think we can’t have a fucking fire?” He asked, brows raised.
You sighed.
“I guess it might attract people…”
“It would attract people,” he corrected you. “With Tommy and Vince around I wouldn’t give a shit but you? You’re a liability. Don’t much want to deal with trying to keep us both alive on my own. No fire.”
You tucked your hands between your thighs and shivered a little. Joel raised his brows at you.
“What?” You snapped. “I’m cold. It’s cold. Sue me.”
“Don’t think suin’ you would do much good nowadays.”
“Shut up.”
He snorted and laughed a little.
“Hold on,” he said, getting up and dragging his sleeping bag over next to yours before settling on top of it, sitting close to you. He held his arm out and you frowned. “Come on. Best way to get warm is to get close. Won’t bite and you’ll live, promise.”
You glared at him but tucked yourself against his side all the same. He was right, it was warmer there. Joel seemed to just emanate heat, even through his thick suede coat. He even smelled warm, like cedar and sharp spice and crisp apple. You wedged your hands between your thigh and his and Joel frowned.
“The hell are you that cold?” He muttered. “Feel like ice even through my damn jeans…”
He pulled off the glove on the hand that wasn’t on your arm with his teeth and enveloped your hands in his much larger one. He pulled them to his mouth and breathed into your tight fingers, the heat of his breath seeping into your skin.
“Don’t think we got more gloves but we can put some socks on your hands or somethin’ tomorrow,” he said. “No good to me if you lose your fuckin’ fingers.”
“I could put them in my pockets if you just untied me,” you said, an almost teasing edge to your voice.
“No good to me if you take off, either,” he said. You could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Can’t trust you yet.
“You think I can trust you?” You asked, looking up at him as best you could from your position tucked against his side.
“No,” he said. “But I don’t need you to. You don’t get a choice here, little girl, I do. Don’t matter if you trust me.”
“It’d be easier if I did,” you said quietly.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Imagine so.”
You drifted off there, tucked against his side, and when you woke up, you were curled into his warm body, his arm securely around your middle, sleeping bag around you both. His breath was warm against your skin, his nose buried in your hair, his broad chest firm at your back. You weren’t sure what to do and were trying to figure out when he stirred, groaning a little as he adjusted his arm before sitting up.
“Gotta get you better cold weather gear,” he muttered. “Don’t know how the fuck you survived last winter…”
“Stayed to the south,” you replied. “Which you should do, too, by the way…”
“Lot more competition to the south,” he said. “Don’t feel like havin’ a big crew. Works better to stay up this way with just us.”
“Probably fine when you’re a furnace,” you muttered.
“Get moving,” he nudged you. “You’ll be warmer when you’re walking.”
You rolled your eyes but obeyed, getting out of the way enough that Joel could get up and pull you to your feet. He put socks over your bound hands and you tried not to laugh.
He sighed.
“What now?”
“Most fucked up sock puppets…” You wriggled your hand into the right position as best you could to give it a mouth and he rolled his eyes.
“Should never have told you I’m not planning on killin’ you unless you make me,” he muttered. “Just be insufferable now.”
You smirked a little as you walked and you felt like you made decent time that morning. Joel fed you again when you stopped for lunch, tracing his thumb over the plush swell of your lower lip to wipe away a drop of juice from the apple, but you didn’t talk like you had the day before. Beyond the intimacy of him feeding you, his eyes lingering on your lips and throat, he was distant, teeth grinding and looking off into the trees when he wasn’t watching you.
It was mid-afternoon when you heard it, the haggard pants and inhuman gargle of infected.
“Joel,” you whispered, whipping back to look at him. He grabbed your shoulder and all but threw you behind him, his rifle raised. You pressed tight against his back. “Joel, I don’t have a gun, I can’t…”
“Hush,” he said, hardly glancing back at you. “Told you, you’re mine and I protect what’s mine. You’ll be OK.”
You winced and tried not to cry, pressing your forehead into Joel’s back. He was warm. Solid. Safe. You had to trust that he was going to take care of you, you didn’t have another choice.
There was a snarl at your left and Joel turned so fast it made your head spin, his left leg coming back and catching against yours, forcing you to move with him so you were still protected by his large, broad body as he faced the infected head on.
The crack of the gun made you flinch and you tried to focus on the feel of Joel as you moved with him as he backed up, staying where his legs guided you, keeping you tucked safely against him as he fired round after round, the snarling getting louder and closer until, suddenly, you felt the harsh grasp of a hand on your elbow. It ripped you back into a body that was more like your own - about the same height, none of the almost inhuman broadness of the man in front of you - and the thing snarled.
“Joel!” You shrieked, trying your best to rip yourself away from it as it pulled your arms toward its mouth so hard it almost dislocated your shoulder. “Joel, please!”
The infected sank its teeth into your arm but didn’t penetrate the thick coat as you tried to rip yourself free. For a moment, you thought you had, the pressure from its jaw letting up. But it just roared, gripping you tighter and pulling you closer, searching for skin it could reach.
For a moment, as you watched what used to be a human woman stretch her open mouth toward your throat, you were almost surprised that this was how it was going to end for you.
It shouldn’t be a surprise. It was the apocalypse, after all. It should make sense that the thing that made the world end took you out, too. But it had felt all but impossible for so long. Like you’d survived so much, worked so hard, pushed for so long that it wasn’t coming for you anymore. Like, eventually, things were going to slot into place and you were going to have a semblance of a life the the reality you now called home. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. You weren’t supposed to end like this.
The butt of Joel’s rifle snapped you out of your own head, the stock coming down hard on the woman’s head and she shrieked, shoving you aside so that you fell flat on your back, and shifting her attention to Joel. He thrust her back and quickly snapped his gun around, shooting her in the head. She dropped where she stood and Joel lowered the gun ever so slightly, breathing heavy, surveying the woods around you both for any impending threats. After a moment, he slung the rifle on his back and all but ran to you, dropping to one knee at your side, his brown eyes wide as they ranged over you again and again.
“Hey,” he said once he’d looked you over, his gaze locking on yours. “You’re OK. Take a deep breath for me, you’re OK, I’ve got you, you’re OK…”
You realized then that your breaths were coming in short, harsh gasps, that your whole body was shaking. Joel pulled off a glove and took your face almost harshly in his hand.
“Look at me,” he said, giving you a rough shake as he did. “Just me. Infected are gone, there were just six of them and I got ‘em all. You’re OK, not bit. Neither am I. It’s OK. Just you and me. I’ve got you, just focus on me.”
You nodded in his grip, tears stinging your eyes, but you couldn’t seem to calm your breathing down. You just weren’t getting enough air and your body couldn’t calm down enough to slow your breaths. Your head spun and your bound hands found Joel’s bicep, fingertips digging into the muscle and the thickness of his coat. Something made a nearby bush rustle and your eyes darted, wide and frantic, not able to turn your head in Joel’s grip.
“Hey!” His voice was sharper, your eyes shooting to him again, afraid you’d pissed him off now. But he didn’t look mad, he looked worried. His eyes were still wide and they were warm and you had the passing thought that, maybe, dying wouldn’t be as bad if you got to look in those eyes when you went. “There you go, keep lookin’ at me, I’ve got you.” The hand that wasn’t clutched onto your head, fingertips clutching into your hair and skull, went to your chest. His palm pressed over your breasts, near your sternum, fingers splaying wide over your skin. “Gonna get you to breathe deep, just stick with me, OK? Out first…” He pressed down with firm, even pressure and you emptied your lungs. Just as your panic was going to kick into high gear, his hand relaxed. “And in, pull that air down low, OK? Focus on it, focus on me, follow my hand with your chest, you’re OK.”
You did your best to obey, pulling air into you and trying desperately to fill the empty spaces inside yourself, your chest chasing the heat of his callused palm.
“Out now,” he said, his voice so calm, adding pressure to his hand again and pushing the air from your lungs until they were empty. “Good, doing good, in this time.”
You nodded and breathed deep, chasing his palm, and started feeling calmer then. Your heart wasn’t beating quite so fast, the feeling that you were suffocating inside your skin fading.
“Feeling better?” He asked, his grip on you loosening. You just nodded. “Gonna help you sit up now…” He pulled you up, one of his large hands in the middle of your back, the other on your bound hands. “Take another deep breath for me.”
You obeyed and he carefully guided you so that your back was against a tree.
“Catch your breath,” he said. “We’ll take a few minutes, then move on. This time of year, shouldn’t be a much infected around here. Don’t think we’ve got more comin’.”
You nodded and breathed slow and deep, closing your eyes, concentrating on the prickle of the cold air in your lungs and then the warm fog of it rising in front of you.
“Think you’re ready to move?” Joel asked after a few minutes. You opened your eyes. He was still there, right next to you, watching you closely with those soft brown eyes.
“Yeah,” you said, voice shaky. “I’m… I’ve never been that close to one before, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have panicked…”
“S’OK,” Joel said. “They’re… well, they’re fuckin’ scary. It’s alright.”
You watched him for a moment and frowned a little.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” You asked quietly.
His brows knitted together, frowning back.
“Only as mean as you make me be, little girl. Never wanted to hurt you. Just wanted to keep you and I’ll be as mean as I need to keep you.”
He stood up and took your elbow, pulling you to your feet.
“Should get moving,” he said. “Got a miles to go yet and we don’t know what we’re walking into when we get there. Let’s go.”
You stayed close to Joel the rest of the hike, never going more than a minute or two without looking back over your shoulder to make sure he was still close even though you could hear him at your back.
It was nightfall when you reached the cabin that Joel had mentioned. The setting was idyllic, you could see why he’d want to set up long term. There were no obvious paths leading to the cabin that you could see, Joel routing you off an apparent dead end to the trail around through the brush and over a stream to get to it. The land around it was dense with trees to the point that it was hard to even see the cabin until you were at the right angle. The woodpile on the front porch was low and the windows were dark. Joel tucked you into a bush at the edge of the clearing made for what had once been a drive for the cabin.
“Stay put,” he said. “Don’t make me run you down.”
He didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he crept closer to the cabin, moving slowly and quietly up to the front door with his gun at the ready. He checked something at the hinge of the door and relaxed a little when he did, slinging his rifle onto his back and coming back for you in the brush.
“No one’s been here since we left in April,” he said, helping you through the rougher parts of the ground. “Should be safe. Left some firewood last time, enough to last us a few days at least…”
“We can have a fire?” Your face lit up.
Joel smiled a little.
“We can have a fire,” he said. “Can’t let you fuckin’ freeze to death, you’re useless if you’re dead.”
“Or frostbitten,” you said. “Also useless if I’m frostbitten.” You could almost hear him roll his eyes.
Joel built a fire and you sat in front of it, warming your hands at the flames and luxuriating in the heat as he went about setting up other parts of the cabin. You just checked to make sure you knew where he was every minute or two, being far from him making your stomach churn and your thoughts race. If Joel was far away, anything could happen and you’d be helpless to stop it. Without Joel, you’d be one of those things by now. Without Joel, you weren’t safe.
It was a ludicrous thought, some part of you knew that. He was the reason you were out here to begin with. He was the reason you were so spectacularly useless in a fight right now (not that you’d ever been particularly good at brawling.)
But he had protected you like no one else had. He’d protected you from Vince’s threats when you’d run away and he had every reason to just let the other man kill you. He’d put himself between you and half a dozen infected when he could have just let them have you while he picked them off. He took care of you, he looked out for you. You wouldn’t need nearly as much of either if he’d just left you with Zach but Zach had been fine trading you away to protect himself. Who knows how long you’d have lasted with him. And, while your survival skills were fine before the apocalypse, they were the kind that let you survive in the wilderness for a few weeks. They weren’t the kind that taught you how to fight monsters both human and inhuman. Joel might have literally tied you down but him and Tommy were the safest you could imagine being right now.
The thought made you dig your nails into your palms and you tried not to focus on it as you stared at the flames as they chewed at the wood in the fireplace. But you weren’t able to ignore it for long, not when you realized you hadn’t heard or seen Joel in several minutes.
“Joel?” You asked the darkness of the cabin. There was no response.
You got up and crept toward the back of the structure, toward the rooms you hadn’t been in yet. But you couldn’t bring yourself to open any of the doors.
“Joel?” You whispered. You gave him a second to reply and then headed for the front door.
Night had fully fallen and you could only see what was illuminated by the glow of the fire through the window, the tree cover too dense to let in much light from the moon. Did you dare leave the porch? You weren’t trying to run away but Joel didn’t know that. One of the exceptions to the “not going to kill you” thing was you running. But what if he got hurt? What if infected showed up at the cabin?
What if you were alone?
“Joel?”
“Thought you were cold?” His voice appeared from the side of the porch, making you jump. He walked around to the steps, water bottles in hand.
“You were gone a while,” you said, indignant.
Joel scoffed.
“I was gone all of five minutes.”
“It was longer than that.”
“Well, I had to clear out the water pump, hadn’t been used in a bit,” he said. “Got it goin’ good, well’s still set…” He trailed off and considered you for a second, brows raised. “Were you worried, little girl?”
It was your turn to scoff.
“No,” you rolled your eyes and looked toward the glow of the fire inside. “I just…”
“You were worried,” he smirked. “Don’t worry, not gonna let the monsters get ya. Head inside.”
“Only monster I’m worried about here is you,” you snapped. You regretted it almost as soon as you said it. Joel’s cocky smile sank enough that the dimple on his cheek disappeared and some of the softness left his eyes.
“Get inside,” he said. “Before I give you somethin’ to worry about.”
You sat by the fire, trying to check on what Joel was doing without showing that you were watching him. Eventually, he came and grabbed your elbow, pulling you sharply to your feet with a small yelp.
“We’ll figure out sleeping arrangements once Tommy and Vince get here,” he said. “For now, we’re bunking together. Don’t trust you to behave otherwise.”
He didn’t give you a chance to argue as he dragged you along behind him to one of the back rooms you’d been too afraid to open before. There was a king bed inside, made up with plush looking blankets and sheets. Joel helped you get your boots off but otherwise, you climbed in bed fully clothed on the side away from the door. He lay down, his back to you. You were pretty sure his arms were crossed and his back look tense.
“Joel?” You said softly.
“Hm.”
“When they get here,” you said, still whispering even though there was no one else to hear you. “Please don’t make me sleep with Vince. Please. I’ll do whatever you want but…”
“Not gonna make you share with him,” he cut you off, looking back over his shoulder toward you for a moment before looking straight ahead again. “It’ll be me or Tommy, not him.”
“OK.”
You were quiet for a few minutes but you were pretty sure Joel was still awake when you spoke again.
“Joel?”
He sighed.
“Hm.”
“Can I sleep closer?” You asked softly. He half rolled to try to look at you in the dark. “I just… I’m cold. You’re warm.”
He sighed again but rolled onto his back and held his arm out.
“C’mere.”
You scooted closer until your head was against his chest and he put his arm loosely around you. You took a deep breath and sighed contentedly, not able to help it.
“Surprised you’d want to be this close to a monster,” he said. He meant it to be wry, you could tell that, but there was a twinge on the last word that gave him away.
“Well,” you said, adjusting your tied wrists as best you could. “Maybe… Monsters aren’t all bad. And some are warm. So.”
He sighed.
“Go to sleep.”
Just as you were about to drift off, you felt his arm tighten around your shoulders, pulling you in closer.
Tommy and Vince made it the next day with more supplies than they’d left the last place with. But, while Tommy had made it in one piece, Vince wasn’t so lucky. His arm had been dislocated and he’d taken a knife to the arm. Joel untied you and you needed Joel and Tommy’s help to position Vince to pop his arm back into place. You made him a sling and treated the wound on his arm, doing your best to keep it from getting infected before stitching it closed.
You weren’t sure how bad the injury really was without the proper diagnostic tools but it seemed like Vince was making it out to be more than it was. You kept checking for signs of infection because he seemed to be constant pain, enough that Tommy and Joel were doing the bulk of the work to set up the cabin to ride out the winter. You helped where you could but Joel insisted on binding your hands again once Vince was patched up and you’d gotten cleaned up from the trip, so your skills were limited.
The four of you had been at the cabin for more than a week when you noticed a shift. You still weren’t party to the discussions the men had, the three of them sending you behind closed doors while they conducted business, but you were certain that Joel and Tommy were getting ready to leave again.
When you went to bed with Tommy that night, he confirmed your suspicions and your stomach dropped.
“Can I come?” You asked. He looked at you for a moment, brows raised. “I won’t be much good at patching you up from afar…”
“Hard to travel with you when we gotta keep you tied up,” he said, going back to gathering extra socks.
“I’ll be good,” you said quickly. “I’ll do whatever you want, just bring me…”
“Why do you want to come along so bad, Rabbit?” He asked. “Didn’t think you’d much want to be there when we raid groups…”
“I don’t care,” you said quickly, even though the thought of watching them kill someone the way they’d killed Zach made your stomach turn. “I’ll behave, just don’t leave me here with…”
Tommy’s head whipped around, his eyes narrowed.
“Vince do somethin’ to you?” He asked. “He say something?”
“No,” you shook your head, clenching your jaw. “Well, nothing big but I just… I have a bad feeling about him. I don’t trust him.”
“And you trust me and Joel?” He asked, skeptical.
“Not really,” you replied. “But… more than him.”
“He knows not to touch you,” Tommy said. “We’ll only be gone a few days, week at most. We know a place only about a day from here where we can reliably find what we need. Shouldn’t take too long…”
Your eyes went wide. A week. A week with just Vince. That was so much longer than you’d realized it would be. How were you supposed to avoid him for a week?
“Can’t you stay and Joel goes with Vince?” You pleaded. “Or you and Vince go and leave Joel here? Just…”
“Can’t,” Tommy said. “He’s still hurt and we’re low on supplies, we need to go now and we can’t risk bringin’ him. You really that afraid of him?”
You tightened your jaw for a moment before nodding once.
Tommy sighed.
“Well, he’s hurt. Don’t think he’s gonna do much to you when he can’t use one arm. You’ll be OK. Next run we’ll figure out somethin’ else, OK?”
You dug your nails into your palms.
“Yeah,” you said. “OK.”
Joel and Tommy left the next morning. You stood on the porch and watched their path long after they’d made it out of sight before sighing and going back inside.
“Just you and me now,” he smirked from his position on the couch. “You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?”
You didn’t answer. You just looked at him for a moment before heading back to the room you stayed in every night with Joel or Tommy and curled up in the middle of the big bed, the binds on your wrists feeling worse than they had in weeks.
For the first two days, it was fine. Mostly. You generally avoided Vince, the man humming Run Rabbit anytime you were within earshot, making your whole body tense. Instead, you were just hanging out in the bedroom and sleeping or reading or just staring at the grain of the wood walls wondering if this was just what your life would be now. What if something happened and Joel and Tommy didn’t come back? What if Vince just left you here, tied up, forever?
What if you were alone?
The third day, you started getting suspicious of Vince’s claimed injury. Given what you knew, he should be doing much better at this point but he’d kept claiming he was in too much pain to even use his arm. It wasn’t impossible, of course, and it was hard to see what kind of intervention he would need in a cabin without the proper tools, so you were hoping that more time did the trick. But when you emerged from the bedroom that afternoon to use the bathroom, you found him in the kitchen, both arms stretched to reach something on a top shelf. You frowned and stood there, waiting for him to notice you. When he turned around, he jumped before smirking, putting his arm back in its sling.
“Aren’t you a sneaky thing?” He asked, prowling over and standing just inches away from you. “See something you like?”
“Arm looks like it’s doing better,” you replied, nodding to it. “Want me to look it over?”
“Still hurts like a bitch,” he replied. “Just needed two hands so I lived with it for a minute. That OK with you, Florence Nightingale?”
You shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter to me if you fuck up your arm,” you replied. “Be my guest.”
You ducked around him to go to the outhouse but his hand closed around your arm, yanking you back into him with a small yelp.
“Think you’d be more invested,” he said, his face close to yours. “Only useful as because you can patch people up. Think the Millers will be so keen to keep you around if you can’t even do that right?”
“Right,” you said. “Maybe I should be worse at it so they let me go.”
“You really think they’d let you go?” He laughed. “You stupid girl. They’d kill you. Not gonna just let you wander around knowing where they like to hide out and what they have. You stop being useful, you’re dead. Just hope they let me have some fun with you first.”
You wanted to throw Joel’s words back in his face, that he said he wasn’t going to kill you, not unless you made him. But you weren’t sure how much you could trust any of it. It felt like you could believe what Joel told you but he was keeping you tied up in a cabin in the woods. How much could you trust anything he said?
Instead, you just pulled your arm away.
“I have to pee.”
He laughed once.
“Don’t go far,” he said. “Hate to have to run you down out there…”
He started humming Run Rabbit again.
The next afternoon, you knew he was lying about the arm.
You emerged from the bedroom to find something to eat and found him sitting at the small table, bag of jerky and a bottle of whiskey in front of him, sling hanging off the back of the chair.
“Good to see my medicinal skills are up to snuff,” you said derisively, going for the cabinet you knew held the jerky. “Guess I’ll live to bother you another day.”
“Know what?” He snapped, shoving back from the table and stomping over to you, closing the gap between you in just two steps. “Think I’m getting tired of your smart fucking mouth…”
You realized suddenly just how big Vince was. He was shorter than Joel so you didn’t notice it most of the time but, when he had you pressed back against the counter as you shrank back from him, you were suddenly very aware that he was large, more broad than he was expressly tall. Definitely big enough to do serious damage if he set his mind to it. His hand whipped forward and latched onto your jaw, his fingertips digging into your cheek, grip so tight you were worried he was going to dislocate it.
“Sorry,” you said quickly. “I’m sorry, I’ll…”
“Think I’m about done dealing with your shit,” he growled, the smell of liquor harsh on his breath. “Think it’s about time I got my due.”
He pulled you around, hand still on your jaw, and shoved you back, making you stumble over a chair. You scrambled back from him, looking quickly back over your shoulder, trying desperately to keep from falling.
“You don’t want to do this,” you said, looking back to him. “You really don’t want to piss off Joel and Tommy like that, please…”
He laughed once, darkly.
“You think they want you to themselves that bad?” He asked, prowling closer. “Nah, I don’t think they’ll much care. Besides, maybe I’ll just have my fun with you then kill you. Tell ‘em you took off. You already tried it once…”
“No,” you shook your head, trying to ignore how your throat clenched tight as he drew near. “No, you don’t…”
“Think I do,” he said as you backed into the couch. He was only about a foot away from you. Your eyes darted toward the door and you made the call, ducking below his groping arm and running for it.
He grabbed at you but you dodged it, all but ripping the door off its hinges as you ran out into the cold afternoon air. Dusk was on the horizon and you were going to be stuck running from him in the dark with your hands tied but it was better than the alternative.
You heard the gunshot a split second before you felt it, the force of the bullet sending you sprawling forward as you screamed in pain. There was a second of shock, of disbelief, as you lay face down in the dirt. You felt the warm wetness of your blood before you felt the sharp pain of a hole being blown through your body. You rolled onto your uninjured side and tried to assess it as best you could, not really able to reach the wound because of how your hands were tied. It was on the right side of your body, so far to the side that you thought it might have missed most major organs and just caught skin and muscle and fat. But you couldn’t be sure.
You tried to shove yourself up, side screaming in pain, the wound pulling, the muscle ragged, but Vince was on you too fast. He shoved you onto your back and kicked your legs apart before kneeling between them.
“No!” You shrieked, trying to scramble back from him but he grabbed you harshly at your waist, his fingers digging into your open wound and making you scream in pain.
“You’re mine now,” he panted over you. “This’ll be a lot easier on you if you just cooperate…”
You tried to shove him back but couldn’t get leverage, not with your hands bound. A strangled sob slipped from you as you tried to wrest yourself away but it didn’t work, Vince just slamming you down into the dirt before punching you across the face. The blow made your brain rattle in your skull and you lay there, blinking in shock for a moment as he started to fumble with your pants.
“Help!” You screamed, voice thick and wet. “Joel, Tommy!”
“Shut up,” he seethed over you, trying to force your pants down over your hips. You ignored him, still screaming, legs kicking uselessly. He punched you again and you went still and quiet, head swimming. “Shut up you stupid fuckin’ girl. Take what I give you and you’ll fuckin’ like it.”
“Joel!” You shrieked. “Tommy!”
It was desperate, you knew that. They said they’d be gone close to a week, it had just been days. This was it.
Vince’s hand latched around your throat, shoving you down into the earth. You tried to breathe around his fingers but you couldn’t manage it, his grip too tight. You clawed at his arms with your tied hands and tried to gulp in air, your vision starting to fade.
“Told you you should’ve cooperated,” he panted over you. “Should’ve fuckin’ listened…”
You could hardly see his face over you anymore, the world seeming far away, when the weight of him disappeared and you could breathe.
***
Tommy wasn’t thrilled about leaving you behind.
He hadn’t been thrilled about it before you talked to him. He’d been trusting Vince less and less over the last few weeks. He’d never been Tommy’s favorite person but he had decent enough skills, generally listened when Joel told him what to do and it was helpful to always outnumber pairs when hunting.
But ever since they’d taken you, Tommy was questioning whether keeping him around was smart.
Of course, he’d been conflicted about taking you from the beginning. He hadn’t gotten into this to take fucking captives, he’d gotten into this because it seemed like the only way to stay alive was to take. There wasn’t enough to go around so some people were going to have to go without. That’s just the way it worked. He just wanted to make sure the people going without weren’t him and Joel.
Survival of the fittest, after all.
But he understood why Joel had taken you. You had valuable skills, valuable enough that you were worth feeding and monitoring. It was worth it to go outside the norm for you. Even though he hated keeping you tied up. But he figured he’d wear Joel down on that eventually.
He didn’t like leaving you behind like this before you’d talked to him about Vince and all but begged him to bring you along. You had to really distrust Vince to want to come on a hunt like this. It made him uneasy.
So he was relieved when he and Joel had stumbled upon a small group of men traveling just two days after they’d left the cabin. It was a good haul, enough to set them up for a few months and get them through a stretch of winter. They’d need to head out again at some point - or just hunt and trap animals near the cabin if it looked like the ammo, fuel and battery supply would hold out - but they had some security for a while.
“I really think she’s gonna like some of what we got,” Tommy said as they were getting close to the cabin again. “Think the books are up her alley and they had medical supplies. Legit ones. That’ll make her happy.”
“Can’t get too attached,” Joel said, not for the first time. Tommy rolled his eyes. Joel glanced over at him. “I’m serious. It’s a risk. You’re gettin’ too involved with her and can’t afford you making stupid fuckin’ choices because you’re worried about her. She’s with us to make sure you keep breathing, not to be your fuckin’ friend.”
“Here to keep you breathing, too, right?” Tommy asked.
Joel was quiet for a moment.
“Right?” He said again.
“Sure,” Joel said. “Right.”
Tommy clenched his jaw but stared straight ahead.
He wasn’t sure if his brother was cautioning him because he was worried about Tommy or because he was worried about himself.
Tommy wasn’t a fucking idiot. He saw what was happening with Joel. He’d been there when Sarah died, saw the pain in his brother’s face as he held his daughter’s broken body. He’d clung to her until she went cold, on the ground where she’d died at first and then for hours as they tried to find a way out of Austin and away from the carnage of the outbreak. He carried her body until he couldn’t anymore, dropping to his knees on the east side of town with smoke in the distance.
Tommy had tried to find a way to bury her, even just a shallow grave, but infected put a stop to that. Tommy had to drag Joel away, screaming and fighting him the whole way.
He put a gun to his head that afternoon. It was a miracle he survived but, sometimes, Tommy wasn’t sure he really had. The Joel he knew, the Joel who he’d grown up with, the Joel who’d damn near raised him during his teenage years as their mother’s health declined, the Joel who lived for his daughter had died with her. In his place was the man he was now. Harsher, colder, and more like Tommy when he got mad than Tommy was really proud of.
But things had shifted with you. He’d bought Joel’s reasoning at first and, in hindsight, he thought it was because Joel believed it himself then. That you were too valuable to just let go, that you wouldn’t survive long on your own so keeping you was a kindness.
Now, though, Joel was attached. Tommy could see it, even if Joel couldn’t. He’d first noticed on a morning where Joel had been the one in bed with you. Tommy pulled a shirt on, you curled in on yourself in that way you did, and he caught Joel tucking the blankets in around your sleeping form. Tommy raised his brows at him and he just frowned.
“S’cold,” he said softly before ducking around Tommy and leaving the room.
It was the first sign he’d seen of Joel caring about anything outside of Tommy since Sarah died.
After that, it was obvious. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it before but, the second he knew to look for it, he saw signs of Joel caring everywhere. He stopped Vince from finishing the jerky he knew you liked best and set it aside for you. He made fires on nights Tommy knew he wouldn’t bother otherwise because you got cold. He saw you struggling to tie your boots with your bound hands and brushed your hands aside, kneeling at your feet to tie them for you. You complained the whole time, said that you were perfectly capable of tying your shoes if he’d just untie you. Joel just rolled his eyes, tucking your laces behind the tongue of the boot before getting to his feet again.
“You know,” Tommy said. “May not be the worst thing. Getting attached.”
Joel just huffed.
“Just mean, life’s better when you’ve got something to care about, right?” Tommy pressed on. “What’s the point of fightin’ this hard if you don’t?”
“Care about you,” Joel shrugged. “Seems like plenty to me. Just… Keep going for family.”
Tommy was quiet for a moment.
“She could be family,” he said, glancing Joel’s way.
Before Joel had a chance to object, the sound of your scream cut through the cold air. Tommy looked at Joel for barely a second before the men were running, shoving brush aside and leaping over obstacles as they went.
“Joel! Tommy!”
Tommy wasn’t sure where he found the energy after days on the road but he pushed himself faster at the sound of your voice. You were so afraid it sent a chill up his spine. It had to be infected, he couldn’t think of what else would inspire that kind of terror.
He broke through the tree line before Joel and it took him a moment to realize where you were, Vince on top of you on the ground. Tommy didn’t stop to think. He was hurting you, he was a threat, he needed to pay. Tommy tackled Vince, catching him completely off guard and rolling away from you. They landed with Vince on top but he was disoriented and Tommy quickly threw him to the ground before jumping on him, forcing his knee into the other man’s chest before punching him, hard, across the face again and again.
Vince scrambled, throwing his arms up, trying to protect his head from Tommy’s blows but it didn’t matter. He grabbed one arm and broke it, feeling the bones snap under his fingers.
“Tommy!” Vince sobbed. “Fuck, please! I can explain!”
“No,” Tommy shook his head, his fist raised. “Warned you, motherfucker. Shouldn’t have touched her.”
He ripped Vince’s unbroken arm away and started punching him again and again, the sick sense of satisfaction that took hold when he solved problems this way settling over him. There was something about using his body, taking control with force, that brought him a sense of peace. He knew what was coming next. He knew it could be the right thing, that he could protect who needed protecting, because he’d set the rules.
After what felt like no time at all, Vince was still below his fist, his face a mass of blood and displaced cartilage. He wasn’t breathing. Tommy panted, staring down at him for a moment. It seemed like he should feel bad for this, somehow. He’d lived alongside this man, survived the end of the world with him, for more than half a year. He should feel some sense of guilt or loss at killing him. But he didn’t. He only felt justified and a twisted sense of pride at the fact that he’d protected you, even if that meant killing for it.
For a moment, he was relieved, the knot in his stomach that had been there since he’d left with Joel days earlier easing.
Then, he heard it.
“Tommy!”
His blood went cold. Joel’s voice was pleading and desperate. He’d heard him like this once before, just once.
“Tommy, help me!”
He left Vince on the ground and ran to Joel. You were in his arms, staring down at your stomach, your breaths coming in shallow, pained paints. Joel had cut your ties, at least, and your hands were braced against him, your nails digging into him. There was red blossoming over you and Tommy stopped dead in his tracks.
“No,” he breathed.
Joel shook his head.
“Gotta help me,” he said. “I can’t… You gotta help me, please, Tommy. Please.”
You made a pained sound and winced, your whole face drawing tight in pain.
“I know,” Joel said, looking back down at you, tightening his hold on you. “I know, I know, it hurts, it’s gonna be OK, I’ve got you, it’s OK…”
“It’s not too bad,” you said, your voice pained. “Just… I think it missed the major stuff and I think the bullet went straight through, just have to get the bleeding under control and stop infection, that’s all, I just need…”
Your voice broke off and you panted, the agony clear on your face.
“It’s OK,” Joel said, clutching onto you as Tommy seemed to find control of his body again. “It’s OK, just tell us what to do, we’ve got you, it’s OK…”
“Need towels,” you winced. “Gauze. Alcohol to flush it… don’t think the water here would be good, even if we boiled it…”
“Got it,” Tommy said, running to the cabin and finding the collection of towels in one of the cabinets, gauze from your medical supplies, the highest proof liquor he could find in the stash at the house and ran back out to you.
“Have to get this out of the way,” you said, unbuttoning your shirt and shrugging out of it on your injured side, hissing in pain as you did. You gritted your teeth and spoke again. “Need one of the towels, put it on the wound - both sides since I think the bullet went through - and hold pressure. It needs to be a lot of pressure, have to stop the bleeding. It’s going to look like it hurts but that’s OK…”
Joel and Tommy maneuvered the towel around your wound and clamped down and you gasped in pain, one hand flying to Tommy’s shoulder, your fingers twisting in his shirt.
“I know, I know,” Joel sounded pained, too. “I know it hurts. It’s OK, you’re gonna be OK…”
You just nodded, staring up at him with wide eyes as you struggled to breathe through the pain.
Tommy tried not to think about the night more than a year ago when Joel had said the same things to his daughter as she bled out in his arms. He tried not to think about whether or not Joel could survive that happening again, especially so soon to the first person he’d shown any kind of care for since then. He tried not to think about whether or not he could survive it, either.
You, at least, stayed conscious and knew how to walk them through patching you up. This time when Joel got up from the bloodstained ground with a body in his arms, it was still breathing.
He carried you, delicately, into the cabin, your head on his shoulder and your eyes closed. They cleaned you up as best they could before Joel tucked you into bed, setting you on your uninjured side and pulling the blankets up around you. You flinched in your sleep and Joel brushed your hair back from your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone.
“C’mon,” Tommy whispered, jerking his head toward the door. “Should give her space.”
Joel nodded and followed Tommy to the kitchen.
“Drink?” Tommy asked, going for the cupboard with the liquor. Joel just nodded. Tommy poured them each a sizable glass before sitting across from him at the table. Joel took the cup but didn’t drink it. Instead, he set it on the table and turned it in his fingers, his jaw tight.
“You OK?” He asked eventually.
Joel sighed, staring at the liquor for another moment before meeting his brother’s eyes.
“I thought it was gonna be like her,” he said quietly. “She was bleeding like she was and in pain like she was and I thought…” his voice broke. “I can’t watch someone else I…”
He shook his head.
“Someone else you what?” Tommy asked when Joel was quiet for too long.
“Someone else I care about die like that,” he said, not looking at him.
Tommy nodded slowly.
“‘Bout time you figured it out,” he said.
Joel glared at him.
“Told you, attachment is dangerous. Saw why tonight, if I weren’t fuckin’ attached to her then…”
“Then you’d have let him rape her?” Tommy asked. “Kill her?”
“No,” Joel snapped and then sighed. “But.. I wouldn’t have been afraid. I… I was so afraid, Tommy. I haven’t been afraid like that since… I can’t do that again. I can’t.”
“You think I can?” Tommy asked, brows raised. “Jesus, Joel. You think I wasn’t fuckin’ terrified tonight? Think I broke a bone in my damn hand taking it out on that fuck…”
Joel sighed.
“Should let her go,” he stared out the window. “See if we can’t find a way to get her to a QZ or something…”
“Yeah, because those are so damn great,” Tommy scoffed.
“S’not safe out here,” Joel snapped. “And if we suddenly care about saving her, that puts us at risk…”
“Don’t you think she’s worth a little risk?” Tommy asked. “You really think you’re gonna be satisfied with just me for the rest of your life? Because, no offense brother, I’m not exactly thrilled with the idea of having just your ugly mug around for the rest of my days.”
“She doesn’t want to be here,” Joel said. “Remember that? The fact that she’s been literally tied to us? You really want someone who you’re forcing to be there?”
“Doesn’t have to stay that way,” Tommy said. “Lot’s happened…”
There was a creak and Tommy looked up, over Joel’s shoulder to see you emerging from the bedroom, a pained look on your face.
“What are you doing up?” He asked, leaving his drink and heading for you. “Need to use the bathroom or…”
You shook your head as Tommy took your hand and you leaned against him, your body warm and soft.
“He’s right,” Joel said, getting up, too. “You need to be resting…”
“I know,” you nodded, wincing. “I know I do, but… I… I woke up alone and I just… it was like I could feel him there and I couldn’t calm down and… Could you sleep in the bed with me? Please? I think… I think if you’re there I’ll feel safe and…”
“Course, little rabbit,” Tommy said gently. “Which one of us do you want?”
His stomach clenched at that question. He wanted the answer to be him. He wouldn’t get in the way if it was Joel, of course, but he wanted to be your source of peace and safety. He wanted to be who you turned to when you needed someone. You looked up at him, your eyes wide.
“Could it be both of you?” You asked sheepishly. “Please?”
Tommy looked to Joel who looked baffled for a moment before he answered for the both of them.
“Whatever you want,” he said. “C’mon, bed time.”
The walk to the bedroom was slow and Joel and Tommy both helped you into the middle of the bed. Joel went to sleep at your back, Tommy at your front.
“If we bump you or something and we hurt you, wake us up, OK?” Tommy said. You just nodded, curled up like a rabbit. He looked to Joel who just shrugged, the two of them climbing into bed with you. When Joel was in his place, you adjusted yourself back until you were pressed against him. Tommy lay down slowly, facing you and leaving as much space between you as he could. But you reached forward and tugged him closer, until his front was only a few inches from yours. Your smiled in the darkness.
“Thank you,” you said softly, closing your eyes and relaxing. “This feels better.”
“We’ve got you,” Joel said, his voice rough. “Take care of you.”
Tommy wasn’t sure you heard him. He was pretty sure you were already asleep.
***
Joel didn’t tie you up again.
You were expecting him to, once you started becoming more mobile again. He didn’t mention it, didn’t even tell you to behave and not go running off. You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t care if you left or he could tell that you weren’t going to try to escape them now.
Things were different after Vince. Joel and Tommy had gone from being the best parts of a bad situation to the people you needed to feel safe. You had to ask them every night, for the first week, if they would sleep in the bed with you. They never said no, alternating between who was at your back and your front. You just liked being between their large, firm, warm bodies, enveloped by their heat and their strength. Nothing could hurt you when you were between them, nothing. That much you knew.
The two men took care of you while you recovered. Joel kept the fire going in the living room and would carry you to it in the morning. Tommy read to you for a change and you drifted in and out of consciousness on the couch to the soothing timbre of his voice. They helped you change your bandages and brought you water and soothed you when you woke up afraid.
It took a few weeks before Joel said he wanted to go hunting.
“Animals,” he clarified when you tensed. “Not people.”
“Can I come?” You asked quietly. Tommy was at your back that night, Joel at your front. Tommy held you a little tighter.
“Don’t know if you’re up for it quite yet,” Joel replied, brushing your hair back from your forehead.
“I’m ready,” you said quickly. “I can keep up, I…”
“Ain’t worried about you keepin’ up,” Joel said. “Worried about you gettin’ hurt. I’ll go…”
He must have seen at least some sign of the disappointment on your face in the dark. He sighed.
“What, little girl?”
“I don’t want to be here alone,” you said softly. “I know Vince is dead but…”
“I’m staying behind, too,” Tommy said. “Not going to leave you by yourself.”
“But…”
You went quiet.
“But what?” Joel asked.
“But you shouldn’t be out there on your own, either,” you said quietly. “It’s safer if Tommy goes, too, and…”
“Not doing anything very dangerous,” Joel said. “I’ll be back before you know it. It’s OK.”
You nodded, even though you didn’t really believe him.
He left the next day and you spent the whole damn day worrying. Tommy tried to distract you, playing poker and asking you to read to him, but your eyes kept going back to look at the door, waiting for Joel to walk through it and prove that he was alive and well.
When he returned just after dusk that evening, you jumped up from your chair at the dining room table and flung yourself at him, your arms going around his neck as you pressed your body against his.
“What’s all this about?” Joel laughed a little, catching you out of the air.
“I was worried,” you said, voice muffled by his shirt. “I’m glad you’re home.”
He was still for a moment before he held you close.
“Me too.”
That night, you made Joel sleep at your front and you pressed yourself against him, your leg hitching up over his hip. His breathing stuttered but you didn’t move. Tommy kept his distance at your back before you half turned, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him against your back.
“Need you both,” you yawned, body finally relaxing after being tense all day. “Please, need to feel you both.”
Tommy hesitantly enveloped you, curving his legs around yours, his arm gently going around your waist. You smiled, drifting off surrounded by the men who protected you.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise when you started waking up feeling wet.
The first time, you damn near panicked, Joel and Tommy still asleep around you. You couldn’t remember any dreams that would have made you react that way, it didn’t seem like something that happened just before you went to sleep. But you were wet.
It wasn’t until Tommy pressed against you in the kitchen, reaching something on a shelf over your head, that you realized what it was.
You were turned on by them. By Joel and Tommy both. They were large, they were strong, they were handsome. Their bodies were warm and firm when they held you at night and you started wondering what they’d taste like, what they’d feel like as they slipped inside of you and put all that wetness to use.
But more than that, they were safe. For the first time since the apocalypse had really begun, you felt secure. Yes, they might have taken you against your will but they’d taken care of you the way no one else ever had. They were safe and good to you and handsome and strong. You wanted them.
More than wanted. Needed. Needed to feel them closer, needed them inside of you. Needed them so close that no one could take you away from them.
One night, about two months after the incident with Vince, snow was piling high outside. Joel and Tommy had spent the day chopping wood, making sure there was enough stashed to ride out a storm. The three of you sat down to dinner, pulling one of the last of the rabbits Joel had trapped a few weeks earlier from your makeshift freezer of snow outside and roasting it over the fire, knowing you’d be stuck with jerky for a while going forward. You had a glass of whiskey with them, not enough to get you drunk but just enough to loosen you up. Enough to make you focus more on what you wanted. Enough for you to forget exactly why what you wanted was probably a bad idea.
Joel was at your front in bed that night, your ass pressed back against Tommy as your chest was pressed against Joel.
“Think the snow is going to be too crazy?” You asked quietly as Tommy’s thumb traced your lowest rib.
“We’ll dig out if it is,” Joel shrugged. “We’ve got enough supplies to last us ’til spring. Ain’t too worried.”
“Just gonna have a lot of time to kill,” Tommy said. You could hear the smile in his voice. “Might actually read one of those books of yours, little rabbit, instead of listen to you read ‘em.”
The cabin creaked in the wind and you pressed yourself closer to Joel, your hand going back to Tommy to pull him closer, too. You nuzzled into Joel’s chest, the hairs there tickling the tip of your nose, and breathed deep. Even at the end of the world, he smelled good. Rugged, with a hint of sweat, like the wood he’d chopped and smoke from the fire he’d built. You wanted to be closer to him. You wanted to feel him. You wanted - needed - to taste him.
So you did.
You brushed your lips against his chest and you felt his breath hitch as you kissed him there. You let your mouth linger on his skin before you pulled back ever so slightly and licked your lips, tasting the salt of him on your own skin with a small, needy moan.
“Little girl,” he said, voice strained.
“Yes?” You asked softly, looking up at him.
“Don’t think you know what you’re doin’,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Yes I do.”
“You’re askin’ for trouble is what you’re doin’,” he said. “So why don’t you…”
“I know what I want,” you whispered.
“Yeah?” Joel asked. “And what’s that?”
“You,” you said. You felt Tommy start to pull away from your back but you grabbed him and held him to you. “Both of you.”
Tommy tensed behind you and you kept ahold of him so he wouldn’t pull away.
“Please,” you breathed. “If you want me…”
“Don’t gotta be worried about that,” Tommy said, a hand slipping around your waist and curling up toward your breasts. “But… well, we talked about it and…”
His voice trailed off.
“And what?” You frowned, looking between the two of them.
“We decided that it’s best of neither of us act on that,” Joel said. “Too much risk of someone gettin’ hurt out here as it is, don’t need to add jealousy to the mix…”
“Who said anything about jealousy?” You asked. “I want both of you. I want to feel and taste and experience both of you, please. Feels like I’ve wanted it so long it almost hurts, I promise I won’t ask you to choose between me and each other, I want you both, I want you both so bad and…”
Your voice cracked, desperation both pathetic and obvious and you were having a hard time caring.
“Who are we to deny a lady what she wants?” Tommy asked quietly.
Joel was quiet for a moment.
“You sure about this?” He asked.
“Think I can handle sharing,” Tommy said. “Worth the risk if I can get just a little bit of her…”
Your heart fluttered at that.
“Good,” Joel said, voice low and rough. “But wasn’t quite so worried about you, brother.”
“I’m sure,” you said, damn near panting now. “Please…”
“Then why don’t you be a good girl,” Joel said, adjusting so he could nudge you down onto your back. “And let us have you.”
Joel started pulling at the buttons of your shirt, opening you up slowly to him as Tommy slid down your body to your panties. He pulled them down and opened your legs to him as Joel reached over to the nightstand and flicked on a flashlight, angling it away from the bed so there was just enough light to see each other by.
“Fuck,” he said as he pulled your shirt fully open, exposing your bare chest to him. He reached one large, callused hand forward and cupped your breast, cradling the weight of it in his palm before curling a thumb over your nipple and brushing over you, making you moan. “So fuckin’ pretty. No idea how bad I wanted to see you like this…”
“Even better here,” Tommy said from his place between your thighs. He ran his thumb over your slit, adding pressure when he reached your clit. You sucked in a breath in shock as you squirmed a little below him. “She’s got the prettiest damn pussy I’ve ever seen.”
“Think she tastes as good as she looks?” Joel asked.
“Gonna find out,” Tommy said, leaning forward, his tongue following the same path as his thumb had found just a moment earlier. He gently teased your clit with the tip of his tongue before pressing it between your lower lips, slipping down until he found your tight, wet hole. He dipped his tongue inside you there and he moaned, thrusting shallowly in and out as he toyed with your clit with his thumb. “Tastes so damn good, Joel. So fuckin’ good, like sunshine and honeysuckle and the best damn candy you ever tasted…”
“Bet she does,” Joel said, bending and putting his lips on your bared breasts. He held you gently in his hands at first before he sucked your nipple gently into his mouth. He moaned with it and you did, too, as he sucked you for a moment trailing kisses to your other breast and doing the same there. Tommy watched, almost awed for a moment, before going back to your dripping heat. You moaned when his tongue slid inside you again, your back arching. You felt Joel smile against your chest.
“Think she likes that,” he said. “Keep doin’ it.”
“Planning on it,” Tommy panted from between your legs before diving back into you. His tongue spread you open as his fingers worked your clit and you rocked your hips against his face, any sense of shame you had long gone.
Joel kissed up your chest to your throat, the brush of his lips and the scratch of his beard making you shiver and gush a little onto Tommy’s tongue as he ate you. He moaned as you did and Joel kissed up your jaw toward your lips but stopped just short of kissing you. You whimpered.
“Not yet, little girl,” he breathed, reaching to cup your breast. “Want you to kiss him first, after you fuckin’ soak him with your come. Want to taste you on your tongue when I kiss you the first time. Think you can do that for me? Think you can come all over his fucking face?”
You nodded, not fully able to form words. Tommy increased his pace and added a finger to where his tongue was working inside you, spreading you open wider, finding the soft places inside you to pet and press.
“Doin’ so good for me,” Joel said, sounding a little breathless and needy. “So, so good for me. Want you to give into it, baby. Want you to give in to me n’him. Give in and come, give yourself to us, you can do it, come on baby, come on…”
He pressed his lips to your throat just as Tommy added pressure to your clit and his finger was deep inside you and you started to come, crying out with the force of it as your walls fluttered around him. One of your hands flew to Joel’s thigh, digging into him with sharp desperation, while the other went to Tommy’s curls, twisting and tangling in them as you worked yourself against his face.
“There she is,” Joel breathed and you opened your eyes to find him watching you intently, pupils blown and face lined with want. “Good girl, comin’ so hard for us. Just let it all go, baby. Give it all to us, we want all of you, all your pleasure, just give it all to us, come on…”
Tommy ate you through your orgasm until you went limp. Tommy sat up, breathless, looking down at your exposed body for a moment before taking his place on the other side of you from Joel. Your half dazed eyes traced over his face and saw traces of your slick on his lips.
“Here baby,” he said, gently cupping your face and tilting your head toward his. He pressed his mouth to yours and you weren’t sure where the taste of you ended and the taste of him began as his tongue swept into your mouth. After a moment, he pulled back ever so slightly, just enough to look in your eyes for a second before pressing his lips gently to yours once more. When he pulled back again, he just watched as Joel turned your head toward his and kissed you, too.
It was soft and delicate at first but, as soon as his tongue pressed into your mouth, he became desperate, kissing you hard and deep, moaning as he did. Even though you just came, you could feel yourself getting hot and tight again.
He pulled away eventually, looking across you to Tommy.
“She does taste good,” He said.
“Told you.”
Joel laughed once before cupping your breast again, looking you up and down.
“We overwhelmed you yet, little girl?” He asked. “Need us to stop so we don’t break you?”
“No,” you panted, looking between them. “And… I think I’d be OK breaking for you.”
“Fuck,” Tommy hissed, sliding a hand down your body to the apex of your thighs to just cup your pussy. “Think she can take both of us at once? Don’t think I can wait my turn…”
“I bet she can,” Joel said, looking down at you. “You ever taken two cocks at once?” You swallowed hard and shook your head. “Think you can be our good girl and tell us if it gets to be too much?” You nodded. “Good.”
Joel took you by the waist and pulled you tight to his front before he rolled onto his back, taking you with him with a sharp little squeak. You could feel the thick of his cock through his sweatpants and you ground yourself down on it, moaning as you did. Tommy got out of bed for a moment, just long enough to take his sweatpants and underwear off and leaving him naked in front of you.
Your eyes went wide at his cock. Thick and long with just the right amount of curve, he worked just the head of himself, smirking a little at your expression.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Take real good care of you when we make it fit. Besides, not mine you gotta worry about.”
Your eyes got wider, looking down in shock at Joel, who laughed.
“We’ll make sure you’re good and ready, baby,” he said, pulling you up his body just enough that you were no longer half sitting on his cock. He reached low and shoved down his sweatpants before he kicked them off the rest of the way and you tried to get a look at it.
Joel had another idea.
“Here,” he nudged you so you were sitting up, your bare, dripping pussy on his stomach. “Get a feel for me, baby.”
He lifted you just enough that, when he set you down again, your core was against the root of him. You gasped at the feel of him against you, so long and thick that it made your head spin.
“Fuck,” you panted, your hands going to his chest as you started to grind down against his length. He groaned.
“That’s it, baby,” he said. “Such a good girl, get me all nice and slick with you. Think you can make yourself come on my cock before I’m even inside you?”
You just nodded, working your hips harder and faster against him. Joel moaned.
“Good fucking girl,” he said, his large hands finding your thighs, fingertips sinking into the flesh of them. “Want you to suck his cock while you do. Gotta get him all wet to go in that little asshole of yours. Think you can do that for us?”
You just nodded and sat up from Joel a little more as Tommy crawled toward you on the bed, working his dripping length as he did. Your mouth dropped open and you took him into it, sucking and licking his head before starting down the shaft, moving slow as you looked up at him through your eyelashes, relishing the look on his face before he dropped his head back and moaned in pleasure. You were doing this to him, you were bringing this strong, powerful man to his knees with just your mouth.
“Holy shit you’re good at that,” Tommy moaned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, gonna come down that pretty throat of yours if you’re not careful…”
“Don’t push him too far, little girl,” Joel said, rocking his hips up into yours and making you gasp. “Want to take all of you, can’t wear him out too quick…”
“Fuck, her mouth Joel, Jesus,” his fingers went to knot in your hair as he started fucking into your throat and you swallowed around him. “Fuck, you try not comin’ in her here…”
“Save it,” Joel said, sounding a little close to the edge himself. “Imagine how good her ass is gonna feel…”
“Oh fuck,” Tommy said, pulling you off his cock and panting for breath. Joel kept fucking his cock up against your pussy, the thickest part of him working your clit and making you moan, your second orgasm building. Tommy cupped your face, watching your desperation as you got close to coming from his brother’s cock. “Fuck, so damn pretty when she’s about to come. Work of fuckin’ art…”
“Tell me about it,” Joel grunted, sounding almost pained. “Fuck, you think she’s close? Need inside her, can’t…”
“Oh she’s close,” Tommy said as you whimpered, the ability to form words far behind you. “You like what he’s doin’ to you, little rabbit?” You nodded urgently. Tommy smiled. “Good, good. Want him to go a little faster? Just a bit?” You nodded again.
“Fuck,” Joel panted, increasing his pace, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm. He pulled back just far enough on one stroke that his head caught on your entrance and the tiniest bit of him slipped inside you for just a second but it was enough to set you off, every ounce of tight need that had built up inside you throbbing and pulsing over Joel’s heavy cock. “Jesus Christ… fuck, gotta feel so fuckin’ good to be inside her when she does that…”
“She’s so good for us,” Tommy said, watching you intently, his eyes locked on yours. “Doin’ so good for us. Just gotta do that one more time when we’re inside you, OK baby? Think you can do that for us?”
You felt on the verge of tears but nodded anyway, wanting nothing more than to feel them inside of you when you came.
“Good girl,” Tommy breathed. “Now do me a favor, get my cock nice and wet one more time for me…”
You obeyed, taking him in your mouth to the root and letting your mouth soak him. He moaned, holding the head of himself in your throat, before pulling from you slowly and gently.
“Bend over for us,” Tommy said, helping you adjust so you were down against Joel’s chest with your ass back in the air. He moved to be behind you, his legs over Joel’s as your thighs were around Joel’s hips. He ran a thumb from your leaking center to your ass and let out a low moan. “Fuck, every goddamn inch of you… fuckin’ gorgeous.”
“You OK if we try to get inside you?” Joel asked, his voice low and needy.
“Yes,” you managed. “Please, fuck, need you, need you both so bad…”
“I know you do baby,” Joel said, a comforting hand coming to the middle of your back. “Gonna start with me in your pussy then Tommy’s gonna take your ass, gonna make you feel so fuckin’ full baby…”
Joel adjusted you ever so slightly, reaching his free hand down to lift his cock and line it up with your entrance. There was some resistance, the thickness of him almost too much to take but he pushed past it until you felt his whole head pop into your hole.
“Oh fuck,” he groaned. “Fuck, fuck… Need just a second, baby. Gonna come too quick if we go now just… fuck…”
You just nodded against his chest as your body adjusted to the small part of his cock that you’d taken.
“OK baby,” he panted. “Gonna give it all to you now.”
He didn’t give you a chance to respond, he just thrust into you and you cried out with the almost brutal stretch of him pushing deep into you, your tight channel rippling over him.
“Fuck,” Joel hissed, his fingers pressing into the bared skin of your back.
“How’s she feel?” Tommy asked, sounding almost pained.
“So goddamn tight,” Joel groaned. “Like she was fuckin’ built to take this cock, my GOD…”
Joel’s hand slid down to your lower back and he put pressure there, holding you in place as his hips lowered so his cock was fully seated inside of you. You rocked your hips, desperate for just a little friction.
“Fuck, so pretty,” Tommy said, his thumb going from your stretched opening up to your tight bud. “Need you to hold still for me, can’t get inside you if you move too much…”
You nodded even though he couldn’t see it and stilled, the thick, heavy weight of Joel within you burning you from the inside out. You felt a warm drop of liquid on your ass and realized that Tommy was probably trying to lube you up with spit. His thumb worked gentle circles over your puckered ring of muscle.
“Anyone ever been in this tight little hole?” He asked, almost reverently.
“One guy,” you managed. “In college…”
“You like it?” He asked.
“Yeah,” you said, breath picking up at the thought of it. “Fuck, yeah, I did…”
“Gonna make you love it baby,” he said. “Now just relax for me.”
You did your best to obey but you were already stretched so tight there it was hard to imagine anything else fitting inside that half of your body. But you wanted it. Wanted to feel both of them deep within you, the three of you together.
Tommy pressed his cock head to your hole and spit one more time before he started pushing in. You whimpered at it and Joel’s hand ran in a soothing pattern up and down your back, the tight ring of your ass holding firm.
“C’mon, just let me in,” Tommy panted, pressing harder. “Just let me in, baby, make you feel so good when I do…”
“Relax for us,” Joel said in your ear, so soft you doubted Tommy could hear. “This was what you wanted, right? For us to take you, make you ours? Can’t do that if you won’t let him in, little girl. Just let him in, let us have you…”
Tommy’s cock pushed past the ring of muscle and he sank a few inches inside you with a strangled moan.
“Holy shit,” he panted. “Fuck, never… never felt something this tight, Jesus Christ…”
He pushed deeper, slowly, gently, and you pressed your face down into Joel’s warm, broad chest, moaning and needy. You’d never felt this full, never felt this stretched, never felt this overwhelmed. Never felt like you so totally, utterly belonged to anyone else.
“Almost inside you,” Tommy panted. “Fuck, doin’ so good for us. So so good…”
Another minute and Tommy’s hips met the plush of your ass and he moaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he did.
“Fuck, we’re inside you baby,” Tommy said, his head falling forward until it met the middle of your back. “So deep inside you, fuck…”
“Taking both of us, baby,” Joel whispered, just for you. “Really ours now, gonna take such good care of you…”
“I gotta move, Joel,” Tommy panted, sitting up again. “Fuck, I can’t… I gotta… fuck.”
“We’re gonna fuck you now,” Joel said, loud enough that Tommy could hear him this time. “You just take us and come on our cocks like a good girl.”
You nodded into Joel’s chest.
Tommy started to move first, pulling back slowly before thrusting in harder and faster. When he thrust in, Joel slid out until just the head of him remained inside your channel. When he pushed back inside, Tommy pulled back again. The men set the pace, alternating in perfect rhythm so you were never empty, giving you the mind-blowing combination of almost constant friction with constant stretch.
It didn’t take long before you started to tighten around them, their cocks working your holes in tandem, filling you and stretching you and claiming every inch of you. Joel had to push back inside with a grunt as your orgasm built, the tightness of your inner walls almost too much for him.
“She’s gettin’ close,” Tommy panted. “Fuck, already tryin’ to milk my cock…”
“Think we can get her there,” Joel said, breathless, thrusting somehow deeper than he’d been before, making you gasp.
“Fuck, need to feel her come,” Tommy said, gripping your hips tighter and starting to fuck in and out of you faster. Joel followed suit, thrusting in deep and hard on his final stroke.
“I’m… fuck,” you panted, your insides hot and coiled with pleasure so intense you could barely remember your own name. “I’m close, so close, want to come with you, please, want to come with both of you, please, please, please…”
You kept whimpering and pleading, mind foggy, as Joel and Tommy picked up the pace, Joel’s arms wrapping tightly around you, holding you close and tight to his skin as his and Tommy’s orgasms built.
“Gonna come,” Tommy said. “Fuck, gonna… I’m gonna…”
“Please, please, please…” You sobbed and they both thrust deep inside at the same time, stretching you to your limit, both throbbing deep and hard, triggering your own orgasm, walls clenching onto them tight and rippling over them.
“Did so good for us,” Joel whispered softly in your ear as your core fluttered around them, their cocks going still inside you. He held you close, one hand on your ribs, the other on the back of your head. “So fucking good for us…”
“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”
Your whole body went limp, nothing but an overwrought, dripping mess as Tommy slowly, gently, pulled himself out of you. You felt some of his come drip out after him but he scooped it with his finger and pushed it back inside, covering your tightening hole with his palm until it closed again.
“Belongs inside you, baby,” he said softly. “Gotta keep it where it belongs…”
He collapsed next to you and Joel and you whimpered at the loss of contact. You wanted - needed - to be touching both of them. Joel seemed to understand, rolling with you gently onto his side and nudging you back into Tommy. His arms went around you and held you as Joel pulled out of you, a trial of your come and his running between your thighs to his softening cock. He pressed close to you once he was outside your body again, his cock all warm and wet against your skin.
“That what you needed, little girl?” Joel asked gently, tracing the outline of your face with his fingertips. You couldn’t keep your eyes open, letting them fall closed with a contented sigh and a nod. Joel’s lips brushed your forehead. “Good. Gotta take care of what’s ours.”
A/N: Yeah so this will almost definitely be a longer series in the future but this is it for now! Sorry for the wait and for the fact that it's completely unhinged.
Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for being here! Love you!
Taglist: @pockcock
#fanfic#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x oc#smut fic#joel miller x female reader x tommy miller#dead dove december#dead dove do not eat#tommy miller x reader
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not a day goes by that i don’t think about the fact that you’ve got a landoscar college au (PLUS Oscar POV) that ur just…sitting on somewhere in ur docs it’s there and not on my AO3…not sure if I could survive the winter without it btw, if u even care
anon please the implication that i would just leave a full ass finished fic in my docs 😭 i crave validation i would never
anyway i'm still fighting the horrors (writing smut) on that one but here's a lil snippet!!!
The thing is, eventually all paths lead to fucking Rome. So maybe this was inevitable. Maybe this was always meant to happen. And maybe this is a fucking glitch in the matrix and Oscar has officially lost his marbles. Logan has been joking, how he’s been stuck with his nose in his study books so much they might permanently attach themselves to his face.
But then again. Logan’s also the asshole of a flat mate who threw a party on Oscar’s study night in the first place. So maybe it’s his fault. Or maybe it’s on Oscar, for wanting a break from studying, for wandering out into the party to grab a snack and a hot chocolate. Maybe it’s on whoever added a can of whipped cream to their shopping basket that week.
Regardless of the roads, Rome.
Rome, in this case, is Lando fucking Norris, on his knees in front of Oscar looking up with pleading eyes through long lashes, clearly a little buzzed, curls damp and sticking to his forehead.
God, universe, whoever is listening. What the fuck.
“C’mon,” Lando says, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Whip cream me.” And then he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue and Oscar stop thinking all together.
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｡⋆ʚ♡ like father, like son
›› chapter 5
›› nsfw 18+ ongoing multi-chapter fic!
previous chapter ♡ next chapter
ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ
›› toji fushiguro x reader
›› megumi fushiguro x reader
›› toji x reader x megumi (mfm)
›› 18+ f!reader
›› started: 12/6/23 : updated: 1/29/24 : status: ongoing
‹𝟹 summary: You and Megumi are best friends. You've known eachother for almost your whole life. His home has become your second home. As time passes and life happens, Megumi slowly develops feelings for you, even though he's unaware of it. To complicate things further, you're now living with him and his father, who has also taken a liking to you.
‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen
‹𝟹 genres / warnings: au - no powers, college au, power imbalance, pseudo-incest (they both want y/n, nothing w/ eachother), dubious consent
‹𝟹 tags: good cop bad cop, fluff, smut, angst, toji has a big dick, dilf toji, toji is his own warning, toji tries to be a good parent, toji is an asshole, toji is trying okay?, daddy dom toji, daddy kink, porn with feelings, porn with plot, friends to lovers, spit / spitting, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, double vaginal pen, double pen, anal, making out, making love, love triangles, praise kink, degradation, light masochism, light sadism, emotional sex, cuckolding, jealousy, jealousy kink, smoking, smoking kink, emotional manipulation, manipulation, polyamory?, father and son share you, protective megumi fushiguro, megumi needs a hug, megumi has a big dick, AGED UP CHARACTERS, dead dove: do not eat, finger sucking, large cock, cum swallowing, blow jobs, first time blow jobs, under desk blow jobs, fingerfucking, face sitting, face riding, 69, mutual masturbation, threesome mfm, lots of smut, loss of virginity
‹𝟹 notes: hi, sorry this took so long to update! i've had a lot going on lately, but i finally felt good enough to finish this chap! i tried to go for soft megumi but then eventually i couldn't help myself. sowwy x_x (im not sorry :3!) don't try so hard to imagine the positions, just go with it PLSSSS T_T LOL. for tumblr: i'm gonna start adding a section for tags. if y'all wanna be tagged in future updates on this fic or any of my stuff lmk!
<;33
!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!
! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !
Chapter 5: Pink Carnations
--
“It’s already almost 5 in the afternoon… and there’s a storm forecasted? Why are they not home yet?” Megumi questioned as he anxiously paced back and forth in the living room. He was worried, not really about the guy who he’s supposed to call ‘father’, but about you. He would never admit it, but he counts the hours, minutes, seconds, moments even when you’re not together. He misses you but feels like he’s not allowed to miss your presence.
Yet… he does. He always does. And that’s why when he sees you come bursting through the front door, clothes soaked but laughing, he’s confused. He knows you hate getting your clothes wet, much less completely soaked through. So why are you in such a good mood? He doesn’t mind, and loves hearing your sweet laugh, but he’s confused, nonetheless. That is, until he sees Toji’s massive frame follow right behind you.
Megumi’s cheeks flare with jealousy, his face flush a crimson red. He stares right at you, loudly asking where you’ve been. He isn’t trying to be mean, but he is mad. “What took you so long in a storm like this? You know it’s dangerous to drive with streets flooded so badly like this.” He finishes, looking straight at Toji, staring daggers into him for even thinking of putting you in a dangerous situation.
“I’m a good driver. You don’t need to worry. And we took a while because we were busy.” Toji smirks slightly at the end of his sentence, moving across the foyer and setting his keys on the table.
You don’t want to feel the uncomfortable sensation of soaked clothes for any longer, so you silently slip out of the room and make your way towards the bathroom.
Toji being Toji, he’s watching every part of you until your silhouette disappears into the dimly lit hallway. He’s watching you like a predator stalks his prey. Megumi’s brows furrow as he feels anger and jealousy boiling beneath his skin. He starts walking up to his father, confronting him, “Why are you looking at her like that, and why are you spending so much time with her in general, you old bastard?” Megumi is practically in Toji’s face, eyes fierce and cheeks flared with anger.
Toji only smirks as he’s leaned against the wall, looking down at Megumi. “I mean, why wouldn’t I? She’s fucking hot, and so obedient. I would be a fool to not want her for myself.” His response almost sends Megumi into a blind rage. Megumi understands Toji most likely takes what he wants from you, sometimes aggressively, and he wants to protect you from that.
“You’re disgusting.” Megumi retorts, words laced with venom. “You make me sick.”
“You can’t deny it though. I’m right. And you know I’m right.” Toji responds before pushing off the wall and away from Megumi towards his own bathroom. Megumi rolls his eyes as Toji walks away, but somewhere deep down inside him- that he’s blind to and wouldn’t even admit to- agrees with Toji. And that’s what pisses him off the most. He feels as if he’s been thrown into a competition to “win” you, one that he is already losing at. Megumi is disgusted with himself at the idea of you being described in terms of a prize, but he also can’t resolve the fact that he wants you. It’s wrong and unfair how someone like Toji could get to you first; Toji doesn’t know you like I do. He doesn’t value you like I do. And thus, Megumi resolves to make you happy in a way no one else can.
--
A few days pass, and nothing really happens between anyone except sneaking glances and private thoughts.
Eventually, Megumi can’t take it anymore. He chooses a night where Toji is out working overnight “hustling’ or whatever the fuck he called it. He ordered your favorite food and went to pick it up, hoping you’d spend some time with him. Even a little bit. On the way home, he picked up a small bouquet of pink carnations- flowers that mean missing someone.
You get back home from your afternoon class shortly before Megumi pulls up in the driveway. You are just barely sitting on the couch before Megumi opens the door and enters, the sight of flowers and bags of food warming your heart. He makes his way towards the table, setting down the food, flowers still in hand, as you hastily get up and hug him.
“It smells amazing, Megs.” You say, holding him tightly. He thinks you’re talking about the food, but you’re most certainly talking about the intoxicating scent of him and his cologne. He smelled like what rainwater personified would smell like, comforting and refreshing.
“It’s gonna get cold, ___. And these are for you.” He finishes as he sheepishly hands you the flowers. You sit at the table, placing the flowers aside as Megumi looks for plates and silverware for you both.
“Thank you, Gumi.” You gently say as you’re taking containers out of bags and unpacking them. “It smells so good!! I can’t believe you remembered what kind of pasta I like.”
Megumi returns to the table, placing silverware and plates down. “You’re welcome. Of course I’d remember. How could I forget?” He’s sure he could see a faint blush creep on your cheeks, but you’re ultimately distracted by your craving for noodles. He chuckles at how you’re practically inhaling the food.
You both talk for a while about how classes have been, what stuff you’ve been watching, just mundane stuff that still shows how deeply interested he is. You know he remembers every detail, no matter how boring it may seem. He never forgets.
--
After finishing the wonderful food and cleaning up together, you’re both relaxing on the couch looking for something to watch together. Usually, you gravitate toward thriller or horror movies, but Megumi picks out some almost cringey – but still cute – romance anime about two people who meet at a convention for a game and fall for each other. It’s not your first choice, but it’s still cute.
Your legs are resting on Megumi’s lap, not moving as you both watch. Megumi is slow, almost cautious when he places a hand on your leg, just rubbing you. He wants to make sure any touch in general is fine as he takes his time, slowly moving up your legs and eventually reaching your thighs. You’re acutely aware of his agonizingly slow touch, but the wait almost makes it better. He’s not even watching whatever he put on, and you’re too caught in the sensations of his soft hands rubbing your inner thighs to even begin to pay attention to the show.
Megumi’s hands continue its ascent up your inner thighs, going painfully slow. He’s looking for any and all reactions he can get out of you, and the way your breath hitches as he gets closer – it drives him insane. The way you try to hide your blush across your cheeks with your arms, trying to look at anything else to save you some embarrassment…. He loves it.
His hand moves to the waistband of your shorts, tugging at them to show he wants to take them off. He hooks his fingers around the waistband and gently pulls them completely off before tossing them to the floor. Megumi’s eyes instantly lock on to your panties. “Fuck, ___... do you always get that wet?” He’s teasing you but also shocked, the underwear was soaked from just a little teasing. You must have really wanted him.
His fingers play with you, rubbing the outside of your underwear as he draws sweet moans from your mouth. He absolutely loves the taking his time, hearing every soft moan you squeak out every time he moves his finger. He pulls your panties to the side, not even bothering to take them off as his long, slender finger slips past your folds. Just as quickly as it appeared, he pulled his finger back to his mouth, tasting a bit of your slick. “You taste so good, baby. Oh my god.” He purrs as he brings another finger back to your cunt, this time pushing into you.
“Fuck, Gumi…”
He fucks you with a single finger as he expertly rearranges you on the couch, one leg hanging off with him in between. He slips another finger inside your tight hole as he brings his mouth to your cunt, flicking his tongue around your clit. The whimpers and pants you make only serve to make Megumi feel like a man starved. Eventually he slips his fingers out, much to your annoyance, and replaces it with his tongue. He’s eating you like a man having his last meal. He wastes no time in tasting every part he can reaching, fucking your cunt with his tongue. His hand creeps back up to your clit, thumb gently circling it as he continues eating you out.
He comes back up for air and inserts his fingers again, fucking you in a rhythm matching his thumb on your clit. You can feel yourself approaching that edge, the knot in your stomach tightening as Megumi stretches your cunt with just his fingers. He adds another finger, stuffing you full of his fingers as his thumb continues its assault on your clit. “You’re such a good girl for me, huh? Did you miss me, baby?”
Your eyes widen as he praises you, feeling yourself reach your limit and cum over his fingers. You make quite the mess over his arms and the couch. “I guess that’s a yes, isn’t it princess?”
He pulls his fingers out of you and reaches for the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down. There’s a noticeable small wet spot on his boxers, he was definitely hard and leaking at just teasing you. As much as he loves your mouth, he absolutely wants your already fucked out hole.
He picks you up and turns you over so you’re on your knees, hands on the back of the couch. Megumi aligns himself behind you, gently pushing his throbbing cock into your soaked hole. Your panties are still pushed to the side, creating a lewd sight Megumi hadn’t even anticipated as he watched your cunt swallow his cock.
Your upper body was pushed against the side of the couch, with your knees spread apart and ass in the air. Megumi bottomed out his cock inside your tight hole, pushing against you fully. “You’re such a good girl. Holy fuck.” Megumi wasted no time in picking up speed, developing a comfortable pace. You moan in tandem with his thrusts, turning him on even more. He wants to be gentle with you, but you were taking his dick like a bitch in heat, and he couldn’t be more thrilled about it.
He spanks your ass as he slams his thick cock into you, and you tighten around him in response. He doesn’t realize it now, but soon will understand how masochistic you really are. He slaps your ass, creating red marks all over it to mark his presence. “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you? You like being fucked like a whore?” He asks as he thrusts into you, hitting your g-spot. “Answer me, princess. Are you a disgusting whore?”
He gives you almost no time to respond as his hand snakes up your back, reaching your head and grabbing fistfuls of hair to pull you back with. “Yes sir, I am” You barely manage to squeak out as you feel yourself being fucked silly, close to cumming again.
“You’re what? Answer me clearly, darling.” He coos as he tugs at your hair, pulling you back against him.
“I’m a dirty whore-ah” You yelp out as he pulls on your hair. You can feel the warmth of his body on your back, as you feel another hand make its way around your neck.
“Good girl.” Megumi purrs out. He is picking up the pace now, as his grip around your neck gently tightens. He’s thrusting into you with ferocity he didn’t know existed, abusing your tight cunt.
You feel yourself getting dizzy while Megumi keeps drilling into your cunt. He releases his grip on your throat, allowing you to gasp for air as he pushes you down against the couch. His hands grip you at your waist, giving him a better holding on you to fuck you harder. He groans as he feels himself getting close.
His cock slams into your g-spot again, as he nears his edge. “I’m close, baby. Be a good girl and come with me, yeah?” You can feel his cock starting to twitch inside your cunt as he continues his relentless assault on your sensitive spot, feeling that knot snap in your belly as you tighten around his cock. The moment you cum, it sends Megumi over the edge, and you feel his warm cum filling your womb. He slips his cock out as he pulls your panties back over your cunt. “Keep this on for a while, sweetheart.” He says as you start to roll over. He leans down and kisses your forehead, while caressing your cheek.
“That was amazing, ____. You were amazing.” He praises as he sits on the couch, pulling you into an embrace as you sit on his lap. Your head rests in the crook of his neck and you can smell that familiar, fresh scent. It smells like home.
“Thank you, Gumi.”
--
‹𝟹 notes: i don't think there are going to be many more chaps for this fic soon. maybe 2 more at most idk. i dont rly know what i wanna do going forward, so i gotta keep it cookin in my brain for a lil more i guess lol. if y'all have suggestions i am ALWAYYYYYYS open for them! getting comments on my fic literally gives me so much serotonin u dont even understand lol
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Jason’s Dirty Secret
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Pairing | Dark pervert!Jason Todd × innocent Batgirl!reader
Summary | When Jason gives in to his urges, they only get worse.
Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, lowkey misogynistic!Jason lol, non con pic taking, non con groping, non con oral, non con use of sleep meds, non con come eating, non con recording, everything in this in non consensual, cause she is unaware lol, adopted siblings, but like... he doesn't think of her that way and neither does she.
Words | 2k
Notes | I don’t even know man. I think I blacked out when I wrote this
Ao3 link | <3
Masterlist
Other innocent!reader fics
He doesn’t know how it happened. But all of a sudden it just quickly grew into a weekly routine, then a daily routine. Sometimes you would go out on patrol on days that he stayed home. So he used that time to go into your room.
It started out simple, looking through your underwear drawer, every once in a while pocketing one to rub his dick with later. But he quickly became bolder. He’d walk in your room, then pull his pants down below his balls to free his cock and use your panties to wipe the precum beading at the tip, so it would indirectly touch your cunt. Or he’d position your pillow on the edge of the bed and rut against it, like he would if it were you under him. He had to refrain from coming on it though, not wanting it to stain and draw attention. So he settled for just smearing precum on it.
Sometimes he’d even jack off to completion in your room. He’d go through your laundry hamper to find your panties from the previous day and put them against his face to smell you, then stroke his cock with them before bunching the fabric over the tip and coating them in his come.
When he eventually was not as easily satisfied from that, he set up a few cameras. He put one in the light, right above your shower, and another in the vent, aimed at your perfectly placed bed, but it also pretty much showed your entire room. Whenever you got back from patrol or finished training, he’d rush up to his room and wait in front of his open laptop, his cock already hard and leaking in his hand.
He watched you on the screen as you took off your slutty workout clothes and put them in the hamper before making your way to the bathroom. The first time he watched you shower he was completely focused on the sight of your nude body, but the second time he watched was when he got the idea. After you left the apartment, he walked in your room and jacked off the way he normally did, using your pillow or underwear, but stopped when he neared his orgasm. He headed to your bathroom and grabbed your body wash, then opened it and resumed fucking his fist.
It’s almost like you fucking wanted him to do this since you chose a body wash that was the exact same color and conistancy as his come. So you can’t really blame him. He debated jizzing in your face wash too, but even he’s not that cruel. The next day, he watched you shower, almost immediately coming when you rubbed the body wash over every inch of your skin.
He doesn’t even know how this idea came to him, maybe in a dream, but he wanted to do more with his come. The first time it was easy. Alfred made cinnamon rolls the day before and you took some home, so he decided to be a nice big bother and bring you one for dessert while you were studying. He stopped by his room and it didn’t take him long to come while he thought of what he was about to do.
“Come in.” You muttered when he knocked on the door. He walked in, closing the door behind him, and you didn’t even glance up from your textbook, chewing on your pen as you read.
“How’s the studying going?” He asked, taking a seat on the edge of your bed, near you.
“Terrible. But I feel better now that you’re here.” You said, turning to him with a wide smile on your face.
“I thought you could use a dessert break.” He returned your smile and held the plate out to you.
“Oh that looks amazing.” You said, taking it from him and immediately digging in. The first bite you had no reaction, other than an exaggerated vulgar moan that made his cock twitch, but the second bite, you paused and furrowed your brows.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, jeans becoming painfully tight.
“I don’t know, it just- it tastes a little funny.” You said, trying another bite.
“Maybe Alfred messed up something this time. Do you want me to get you something else?”
“No- no, it’s okay.” He knew you would say that. “It’s not… bad. It’s just different I guess. More salty?”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
“I’m sure.” You gave him a small smile and continued eating, making small talk that he couldn’t focus on as he watched. Somehow this was hotter than the idea of you swallowing his come after he fucked your throat. Maybe because you were unaware.
Maybe, he thought with a scoff. More like definitely.
The next time he put it in your tea. He already knew exactly how you take your tea so he just added the milk and extra sugar to balance out the saltiness, then stopped by his room, making sure to hurry so it didn’t get cold.
You were studying again when he opened your door. You gratefully took the tea and started complaining about an upcoming test you had, but he wasn’t listening. He couldn’t. Not when you took a sip, then immediately started chugging it.
“This tastes so good, what’d you do?” You asked, barely pulling away from the cup to speak.
“Nothing special.” He shrugged. “I made it how I always do.” You bought it and continued drinking until the mug was less than half full. “You like it?” He asked, cock throbbing.
“I love it. Thank you, Jay, this was just what I needed.” You smiled, setting down the mug to get up and give him a hug. You pressed your body against his, making his hips flinch forward, but if you noticed, you didn’t say anything.
“You’re welcome, princess. You ever want more, I’ll happily make it again for you.” He tried to hide his smirk with a smile as pulled back.
The first time he put it in your tea, he stupidly brought a spoon to mix it. The second time though, he decided to forgo the spoon all together. He came in the drink, then without giving it another thought, used his own dick to stir it. It was weird at first, especially because he was still hard, but he did it, then watched the way you gulped it down, letting out a low, satisfied moan at the taste. Was putting his dick in tea with milk and sugar a bad idea? Maybe… But any and all consequences would be worth it.
It became an obsession, trying to put it in anything he could, and you never once questioned why some of the food he made tasted weird. When that wasn’t enough anymore, he came up with more ideas.
You’d started taking this pill to help you sleep, only on school nights though so you’d be able to get a full eight hours, and he knew he couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste. The first time he came into your room while you were sleeping, he was cautious- never moving too suddenly or making any noise. He didn’t want to take too much of a risk so he just lifted your shirt up enough to show your tits, then fucked his fist, making sure to come in his hand.
The second time though, he decided to be a little more bold. He was still trying not to make any sudden movements and he said your name throughout it to make sure you were still asleep, but he lifted your shirt and pulled the blankets down so he could see your panties and bare tits. This time he came on your chest, then grabbed your underwear from the laundry basket to wipe it away. As he was doing that though, you stirred, making him freeze. He waited a few seconds after you stilled again to finish wiping your chest.
He knew he had to make sure you’d stay completely knocked out so he decided to take matters into his own hands. Along with his come, he put something in your tea that should keep you dead asleep for a few hours. You drank it eagerly, moaning at the taste, making his cock throb. When your eyes started to grow heavy, he waited only a few more seconds before lifting you and carrying you to your bed. If you asked, he’d say you fell asleep and he just wanted to make sure you’d be comfortable. That’s why he changed your clothes too. Once you were completely bare on top of the sheets, he groped your tits, paying extra attention to your nipples as they hardened easily, making him smirk.
Suddenly moving away from you, he took his clothes off impatiently, then kneeled over your torso. He let his dick rest on your sternum, then pushed your tits together and started fucking them. You didn’t even stir, you just stayed completely still. When precum started beading at the tip, he released your breasts to grab his cock, then wiped his arousal over your lips. As he stared at your pink and now shiny lips, an idea formed.
He gently plugged your nose and you just barely shifted before you instinctively opened your mouth letting him slide in as he released your nose. He fucked your mouth slowly, trying not to go too deep. He wasn’t sure if your gag reflex would work the same while you were unconscious and he didn’t want to risk you throwing up on his cock.
He neared his orgasm much sooner than he would’ve liked and he let himself come in your mouth with a low groan. You let out a muffled sound, only moving a tiny bit underneath him. When he pulled back, your head lulled to the side and his come started flowing out of your mouth onto your pillow, but he paid no mind to it. It’ll dry before you wake up.
He got up and grabbed your underwear, putting it back on, making a mental note to start with that next time. When he picked up your pajama shirt, he debated just leaving you bare but that would make you suspicious so he did his best to put it on you without getting any of his come on his hands. When he did though, he just wiped it off on your cheek.
“Jay?” You mumbled, yawning and rubbing your eyes as you walked into the living room a few hours later.
“Hey, princess. You passed out on me, what happened?”
“I dunno, I just got so tired. Did you carry me to my bed?” You asked, sitting next to him on the couch.
“Yeah. And I changed you into your pjs so you wouldn’t have to sleep in your jeans.”
“Oh.” You looked down at your body, seemingly just now noticing what you were wearing. “Thanks, Jay.” You said, hugging his arm and leaning your head on your shoulder.
He could only wait two days before he had to do it again. You drank his come and the drug, then fell asleep on the couch, letting him carry you to your room. He made quick work of undressing you, then opened your legs and sat between them, not even bothering to do anything other than unzip his pants. Despite his eagerness, he wanted the first time he touched you to be something you remember, so he fucked his fist, gaze trailing all over your body.
He came with a moan, painting your cunt with his seed and letting himself rest for only a moment before grabbing your underwear and putting it back on, keeping his come in place. It soaked through the fabric relatively quickly, so he grabbed his phone from his pocket and took a picture, making sure to get your tits in the frame too. He pocketed the device and righted his clothes before getting up to put your shirt back on, already thinking of what he was going to do next.
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Ghost!Robin Arc 2 Part 1
Happy WIP Wednesday! Ghost!Robin was the clear winner of last week's poll. Check out this week's poll if you want a say in what gets posted next. For any newer followers who aren't aware, the entire dinner scene has been written. I'm still working on getting it cross posted to AO3, though. That's going to be my next focus (once I finish editing the last chapter of The Two Ghost Motel, my EctoImplosion fic).
Story Summary: Jazz and Jason have been dating for a while. Long enough that it's time to meet the families. So a dinner at Wayne Manor is set up. Danny took great pains to manage all his Ghost King responsibilities so nothing ghostly would interrupt the meal.
But he wasn't expecting to see the ghost of the dead Robin hanging off Jason's shoulders.
First, Previous
Word Count: 1.4k
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Jason stared at the ceiling and counted his breaths. Next to him, Jazz’s breathing evened out as she slipped into sleep. Every time he let his mind wander, he saw the ghost grinning back at him. Signing with Bruce and Dick. Hugging Alfred.
Trying to take back his place in the family.
And of course everyone responded well to him! Bruce always hated the ways he’d changed since his death. And the ghost looked to be everything Jason had once been. Green shaded his vision and he grit his teeth.
A glance at Jazz, her face soft in sleep, made him let out a quiet breath and ease his way out of bed. A light in the living room proved he wasn’t the only one awake and, for a moment, rage burned hot in his chest. Why did Jazz’s brother have to come to Gotham and fuck everything up?
But he pushed that thought away. Danny hadn’t broken anything. Just revealed that Jason was even more broken than they had thought.
He stepped into the light and froze again when he saw the ghost sitting in front of Danny. The two looked over at him, silent.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he grunted.
Danny huffed a laugh. “It’s a lot. Especially if you haven’t grown up around this stuff.”
Jason glanced back at the ghost and felt the pits rumble under his skin once more. They hadn’t been this active in years. Not since well before he’d met Jazz.
But there was a ghost who looked like him, was him if Danny was to believed, and he was trying to take over Jason’s spot in the family.
He let out an angry huff of air.
Only for the ghost to roll his eyes and sign for him to get over himself.
Jason was throwing a punch before he was even aware, only to almost fall on his face when his hand passed right through the figure. Who decided to point and laugh at him.
Jason scowled and made his way to the window. “I’m going out. I’ll be back eventually.”
“That… might not be a good idea.”
He paused, one foot on the window frame, and asked, “Why the fuck not?”
“It’s just… Robin’s tied to you. He can’t be too far from you and with the power I gave him, I don’t think he can turn invisible again yet.”
Jason growled and pulled himself back from the window and slammed it shut. He glared at the ghost. “Why the fuck do you have to come in and ruin my life now, just when things are starting to work out?”
The ghost, of course, glared back and signed that Jason had ruined his existence first by pushing their family away. All the while, he was making angry-sounding chirps and trills that had Jason bristling even more.
Then Danny was between them, holding out his arms. It felt like something was pushing down on his anger, trying to ease the pits away. He tensed, not trusting the feeling even as he couldn’t help but give in.
“Okay,” said Danny. “Clearly there’s more strong feelings going on here than I first expected. So, um, should I start explaining what I suspect now or should we wait for Jazz to wake up?”
Jason sat on the edge of an armchair, still tense, and waved him on. “I want to know what’s going on.”
Danny nodded. “So I’m no doctor. We’ll have to go to the yetis for real answers, but I can start with the basics.”
“Yetis?” Jason couldn’t help but ask.
Danny blushed. It tinted his skin green. He’d blushed red earlier, what did the change mean? “The yetis of the Far Frozen,” said Danny. “They’re the doctors I mentioned earlier. Their leader is named Frostbite and he’s been helping me out since, like, six months or something after I died. They’re the experts in part-dead, part-living biology simply by taking care of me. I don’t even think the fruitloop knows as much as them, no matter how much he likes to pretend.”
Jason closed his eyes and took a breath. Sometimes talking to people not trained in giving reports by Batman was a test of patience. He decided to let the fruitloop comment go. It didn’t sound like it’d be relevant to what he wanted to know—at least not yet. Maybe he could find out more and get a second opinion after meeting these Yetis. “So not only will you be taking me to another dimension, you’ll be taking me to a place called the Far Frozen where I’ll be looked at by yetis.”
Danny shrugged. “Yeah, basically. Jazz mentioned you liked to read. If you like, I could take you to the Ghost Writer’s lair after. He’s got a library that contains every book ever written and many that never got published. I’m not allowed in it after an incident the year I died, but he likes Jazz so I’m sure he’d let you in if you promised not to damage any of his books.”
Now Jason was staring for an entirely different reason. There was a place like that? That he could just go to?
A questioning trill made his attention snap back to the ghost and he tensed again.
“Yeah, Robin,” said Danny. “You, too, of course. Can’t bring Jason somewhere and not you, after all! Especially since you’ll both have to be present for the medical examination.”
Jason grit his teeth and forced himself to not flinch at Danny’s use of the name “Robin.” He refused to take his gaze away from Jazz’s brother and ignored the sounds the ghost was making. “When will we go?” asked Jason.
“Soon as Jazz wakes up, if you want. No reason not to. And there’s a few things I’ll have to do in the Realms anyway. I was expecting to be away a single night, not however long this”—he gestured between Jason and the ghost—“will take.”
“But they can fix me, right?” asked Jason. He needed the answer to be yes. That ghost couldn’t be allowed to ruin the fragile peace he’d established with his family or the life he wanted to start with Jazz.
To his frustration, Danny just shrugged. “I’m not a doctor, Jason. I don’t know what they’ll find when they examine you. But they’ll know more than anyone else in either this dimension or the Realms.”
“But you have suspicions.”
“I do.” Danny took a breath. “Remember the sensor? Actually, let me just pull it up now.” He rummaged through his bag and pulled it out.
Jason made an annoyed grunt at the delay, but didn’t say anything as the seconds dragged on while Danny turned it on.
After what felt like ages but was really less than a minute, Danny moved closer so Jason could see the screen.
“See, here’s me.” Danny pointed to a bright orange blob on the screen. “And that’s you, he pointed to a mostly purple blob, half as bright as Danny. But mixed through the purple were shoots of orange and blue. The three shades turned mostly orange as they extended from his body to a mostly blue shape. But orange and purple twined as inextricably through the ghost as it did through Jason. Danny pointed to the blue. “And that’s Robin. You’re mostly purple which means you’re liminal. And a brighter purple than I’ve ever seen outside of Jazz and my closest friends. Robin is mostly blue which marks him as an unknown ghost. I’ll be updating the system soon so he shows up as a friendly, known ghost. But what’s interesting is this part between you. You’re connected by ectoplasm that most closely mimics halfa ecto. And there’s currently only three known halfas in existence.”
“You think we’re a halfa, like you.”
“Either that or you have the potential to be a halfa. But, really, we’ll need to go to Frostbite to know for sure.”
“I just want him gone.” Jay would argue to a second grave that it wasn’t a whine, but he was glad none of his siblings were here. Or Jazz.
The ghost let out a series of angry trills and signed at him. Which Jason easily ignored by simply closing his eyes and cradling his face in his hands as he worked on forcing back the pits.
“I don’t think it’s going to work that way, I’m afraid,” said Danny, echoing Jason’s worst fears.
-----
Next
Jason is having A Time™️. Will it get better?
I've finally gotten around to making a Subscription Post for this fic, so this will be the last update I do the tag list for. Especially since it's been so long since I've updated, I feel kinda bad tagging all of you! But if you still want update notifications, please check out the subscription post.
Tag List Part 1:
@addie-lover-of-stories @justwannabecat @gin2212 @amercurio @regonold @overtherose @readerzj @sjrose1216 @echoednonny @deeterzz @blu-lilac @number-one-jew @rowanaway-fromthisbs @vythika96 @tired-yet-awaken @themirrorghost @emeraldcorpral @all-mights-asscheeks @darkhinauniverse @blep-23 @phandomhyperfixationblog @larkcoe1 @thegatorsgoose @job-ross-the-second @britcision @lenacraft @bubblemixer @androgynouslordofescapism @purefrickingspite @leftmiraclechaos @lizisipancardo @starlight-sparks @miraculousandmore @gildedphoenix @sometimesthingsfallapart @letmesayfuxk @phoenixcatch7 @skulld3mort-1fan @abaowo @dhampir-princess @idkmrpianoman @sarina-elais @ballzfrog-blog @undead-essence @spookytragedyshark @flyingpansaurus @akintoabitch @marivictal @8-29pm @justreadingthefanfics @happybear135 @kisatamao @spoopyspoony @adorablechaos @sara0055 @screamingtofillthevoid
#dpxdc#anger management ship#jason todd#danny fenton#ghost!robin#jason feels like things are falling out of control#just when he finally managed to get himself settled#and happy#so he is not having a good time#what will frostbite think of his situation?
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Also, "you know I love you, right" with dreamling from the gentle prompts
Hi anon I am SO SORRY this is like almost six months late, but I finally wrote something for this prompt!!! 😁💖
AO3 Link Here or read the whole fic below!
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Dream is nervous.
He knows, logically, that he should not be. That he is, as always, catastrophizing things in his mind, thinking of the worst possible scenario for how things will go. But he also knows that what he plans to ask Hob tonight over dinner is not an insignificant question. And he has to get everything just right.
Dream has gotten things wrong so many times in his relationships. With his parents, with his siblings, his friends, his past lovers. He has asked for too much too soon, and given too little until it was too late to fix what had been wronged.
Dream wants to do things right with Hob.
Hob, who has been so patient with Dream as he picked himself up after his divorce from Calliope. Hob, who had only been a casual acquaintance at first, a friend of a friend of a friend. Hob, who had somehow, miraculously, fallen just as deeply in love with Dream over the last two years as Dream had done so with him.
And now, Dream wants them to take the next step in their relationship.
He sets the stage perfectly; buying a bottle of wine from the vineyard where they had their first date to pair with the dinner Hob is preparing in Dream’s kitchen. Candles on the table for ambiance. Dream is also wearing a sleek satin button down that he knows that Hob likes on him.
“Is it my birthday?” Hob asks, waggling his eyebrows when Dream lets him into his flat. When Dream closes the door behind him, he finds himself pulled into the passionate kiss. Hob presses him against the closed door and licks eagerly into Dream’s mouth, drawing a guttural groan from deep inside him.
“You’re tempting enough for me to want dessert first,” Hob teases, nipping at Dream’s bottom lip before pulling away slightly to appreciate Dream’s outfit more. Dream laughs, and pulls Hob back to himself in a tight hug.
“Perhaps I just wanted to look nice tonight,” Dream whispers against his lover’s ear. “But good things come to those who wait.” Hob huffs, then kisses him again, gentler this time, and Dream melts into it.
They eventually make their way into Dream’s kitchen, and Hob notices the bottle of wine and candles on the table immediately.
“Please tell me I haven’t forgotten a special occasion,” he says, his tone teasing, but Dream can tell he’s nervous. Dream shakes his head and nudges Hob towards the stove and countertops, kissing him again and squeezing his arm.
“No special occasion forgotten, I promise,” Dream reassures Hob. “I am only doing this just because. To be romantic.”
“If you say so,” Hob replies, still uncertain. He lets the matter drop, and goes on to prepare dinner while Dream opens the wine and finishes preparing the table. His hands are shaking with every movement, but thankfully Hob is too preoccupied with cooking to really notice. They trae stories about their days, Hob on the latest drama in the faculty department of his university, and Dream complaining about the minutiae of having to plan his gallery opening next month.Dinner itself flies by and before Dream knows it, they’ve opened the bottle of wine and moved to the living room to cuddle.
Hob tries to suggest putting on a movie, but Dream shakes his head, taking a deep breath and putting his wine down on the coffee table.
“You know I love you, right?” Dream asks, wringing his hands together despite himself. Hob hums, and then takes Dream’s hands gently in his. He brings one of Dream’s hands to his lips and kisses it, slow and tender. Dream melts like butter into his touch.
“I do, and I love you too,” Hob answers, his smile warm and inviting. “What’s this all really about, love?”
Dream stares into Hob’s dark brown eyes, and swallows thickly. Now or never he supposes. At least now he’ll know whether they really were of the same mind about the future.
“I—Iwantustomoveintogether,” Dream blurts out all in a single breath. There. Now it was all out in the open.
Hob furrows his brow in confusion at first, seeming to not have understood what Dream had just said. But then his eyes widen in shock, and Dream feels his stomach swoop. He can’t tell whether Hob looks happy, or upset, and it absolutely terrifies Dream.
But then Hob’s eyes soften, and Dream feels hope burn bright like a star within his chest.
“You mean it?” Hob asks, his voice sounding just as fragile as Dream feels. “You—you want—”
“Yes,” Dream exhales, before Hob practically knocks him into the other side of the couch with how forcefully he kisses him. Dream wraps his entire body around Hob’s, unwilling to let go of him for even just a moment. Hob technically hadn’t answered the question just yet, but Dream can infer by the way the other man is kissing him that the answer is a very resolute yes.
“You know, you didn’t need to get all dressed up just to ask me that,” Hob tells him when they break apart to breathe. “I would’ve said yes even if you’d asked me in the middle of Tesco.”
Dream barks out a laugh and then pulls Hob into another kiss.
“I would hope by now, you know that anything else less than the most romantic gesture is unacceptable by my standards,” he replies with mock indignation. Hob doesn’t reply, only kisses him again, and everything is perfect.
They soon fall into excited discussions about the future, talking late into the night about whether they will stay in one flat or the other, the best time to move, how much in monthly payments they can afford between the two of them. Dream is not particularly married to his flat, and he knows that the location is not the most convenient to Hob’s university. Hob’s flat is small, however, and Dream knows he needs a larger space in order to be able to paint. They eventually decide on vacating their separate flats and looking for a place together.
Dream’s stomach is in knots, the good kind though, when they go to bed. He’s never gotten to truly choose his own living space with another person. When he and Calliope had been married, they’d moved into her childhood home, and it had never quite felt like home, even after Orpheus had been born. Even his current flat, the style, the decor, all of it is handpicked by his mother, Nyx.
But this new flat? This hypothetical for now space? This will be just for him and Hob. It will be just theirs.
Six months later, Hob carries Dream over the threshold of their new townhome like they’ve just gotten married, and Dream laughs in delight. He cannot remember the last time he’d been so happy.
When Hob lets him down in their new, still empty living room, Dream takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting the emotional weight of what they’ve done wash over him.
This home is theirs. Both their names are on the mortgage, a contract that binds them closer than marriage does, at least in Hob’s opinion. This home hadn’t been in their initial plan, they had only seen it in passing while looking at another flat in the same neighborhood, but it had been love at first sight for both of them.
It had also, admittedly, been a little bit outside of their budget. But Hob was expecting a promotion, and Dream’s gallery opening had plenty of buzz surrounding it. Things would work themselves out. He knew they would.
They’re arguing again, and Dream doesn’t even remember what started it. They were fighting more and more lately; about chores, about things that needed to be fixed, about the ever growing pile of bills between them.
Hob had gotten the promotion he’d wanted, but it came with more work and time away than either of them expected. Dream’s gallery opening was well attended, but only a few of his paintings had been purchased outright. The gallery assured him this was normal, and he knew it to be true, as a debut artist he needed to build a reputation. But the disappointment stung nonetheless.
The house too, had been more work and more expense than they had expected. It seemed like something was always breaking, or needed to be replaced, and they could never agree on a chore schedule that did not make the other feel like they were doing more of the work.
Now they were arguing over what to have for dinner, a simple meal, an activity they used to both consider sacred between them. But Hob doesn’t want to cook, and Dream is tired of eating takeaway. Hob tells him Dream needs to learn to cook. Dream tells him that Hob is too picky to cook for.
“You know what? Forget it,” Hob says, throwing up his arms in surrender and turning away from him. “This isn’t worth it.”
Dream’s heart shatters when he hears those words.
Not worth it, not worth it, not worth it. Dream has heard those words a million times in a million different contexts, but it always, always, means the same thing.
Dream wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth the effort it took to put up with him, to be patient with him, to love him. Calliope had said he wasn’t worth all the fights and arguments. Cory had said their relationship wasn’t worth staying in London for when his dream job was in the US. Nada had said having to deal with his family wasn’t worth it. And now Hob had decided Dream wasn’t worth his time or his love either.
Before he knows it, Dream is running out of the room, out of their home, and into the pouring rain. He can’t hear anything over the pounding of his heart in his ears.
Not worth it. Not. Worth. It
He’s worthless, worthless, worthless.
Dream hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes, so it doesn’t surprise him when he slips on the wet cobblestones of the street and he falls.
What does surprise him is that he doesn’t hit the ground.
Because Hob is there. Holding him back, and gripping him like he’s afraid Dream will disappear if he doesn’t.
Hob had come after him. Had run after Dream in the pouring rain just to catch him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Hob is crying into his shoulder as he pulls Dream to his chest. “I forgot that’s what you hate hearing the most, I didn’t mean it. Not like that. Never like that.”
Dream chokes out a sob of his own, then wriggles himself out of Hob’s grip so he can turn around and hug his lover back.
“I’m sorry too,” he says, pulling Hob into a desperate kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you too. I swear it Dream, I’ll never leave you alone,” Hob promises. “You’re absolutely worth fighting for, always.”
Dream doesn’t know what the future holds for them. But he knows, now, in this moment, soaked to his skin and freezing cold, that he and Hob can get through anything. Because they love each other. Because Hob will fight for Dream as much as Dream will fight for Hob. Because they’re not perfect people, but they are perfect for each other. And that is worth everything.
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Fic Finder
Feb 1st
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1. Hey! Thank you so much for your hardwork!
So I've been looking for this fic for days now, I just cant find it. I can't remember if Wwx is the omega but its an abo fic where wwx had 4 children i think. And he thinks theyre all dead but theyre not. He definitely had 2 daughters? Or was it one? But basically there was this scene where they all reunited in the jingshi and they were crying.
Can somebody help me find this fic please? THANK YOU :") @losing-victor
FOUND! I think the fic for #1 of the most recent Fic Finder, where WWX has kids and they reunite in the Jingshi, may be Like The Butterfly by Setari (T, 18k, wangxian, WIP, Fix-It, Not Everyone Dies AU, Next Generation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Unresolved Emotional Tension) on AO3. It’s part of a series ‘The Wei Family’, with three stories total.
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2. Hello all! I am looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian is blind and the Jiang he grew up with know but the Lans don’t know until the lectures when Lan Qiren yells at Wuxian for taking sloppy notes and he is like “I can’t see, how can I tell if my writing is sloppy?” It is not “Close Your Eyes, Feel My Heartbeat” by ThatDesiGirl, I just reread it to check. Any guesses? Thank you!
FOUND? The Darkness Before Dawn by PsycheStellata707 (M, 113k, WIP, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX, Time Travel, Attempt at Humor, PTSD, Oblivious WWX, WWX-centric, Blind WWX, Sentient Burial Mounds, Self-Indulgent, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Oblivious Pining, Not Canon Compliant)
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3. Hi; for fic finder, could you help me find shapeshifter!WWX fic? Its an old fic. Its a series too i think (3 fic with the first in the series completed and the second part is WIP). I think its tiger WWX (not sure). After WC throws WWX to burial mound, WWX shift to tiger. He cant shift back to human. He hunts the wen in tiger form. He help NHS when he is in the river. NHS was attacked by the wen (either wen or a yao). They then goes to Qinghe. In Qinghe, JWY and LWJ bring back WC to Qinghe to interrogate him. But WWX sees WC and bite him to death. I think WWX is the one who killed WRH too. He bit WRH to death i think
In the second part of the series, after war it was found out that WWX is shapeshifter and many wants to kill (?) Him. The last time i read this, it still only has 1 or 2 chapter.
That all i can remember. Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername
FOUND! The Tiger has Destroyed his Cage by updatebug (G, 54k, WangXian, Shapeshifters, Fix-it fic, Animal Pelts, Tiger WWX, Found Family, adopted family, Yungmeng Siblings, Canon appropriate angst and violence, Gratuitous OCs)
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4. i read this a while back but can't remember the name of it, if anyone can find it or knows the name please let me know .
Nie huaisang, lan zhan, Jiang chang active a time travel array. Huaisang and land zhan did NOT know JC altered the array to erase WY. LZ eventually forces JC to fix it and bring WY back.
When JC altered the array to bring WY back he messed up somewhat and the price was his own core disapp //
I read a FF a while back and cannot remember the name of it, if someone could help me out, I would LOVE to reread it.
Years after Wei WuXian died, Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang want to travel back in time to save Wei Ying and Nei Mingjue. NHS and LWJ finds an array but realize they cannot activate it without Jiang Cheng's help.
However they didn't realize that JC changed the array until they were back in Cloud Recess lecture. LWJ punches JC and
JC had erased WWX from existence. Eventually LWJ made JC fix it and bring back WWX.
After WWX is brought back he reveals the gold core transfer along with other secrets.
However when JC redid the array and brought WWX back is made his own core slowly disintegrate.
They do save the Wen Remnants and and Wen Qing actually helps LWJ finish destroying JCs core when he is challenged to a dual.
@prissyp2014
FOUND? The Way It Wasn’t by KouriArashi (T, 72k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, (eventually haha), Slow Build, Family Feels, Moral Ambiguity, Eventual Happy Ending)
FOUND? Not This Time by Marinelifeclub (M, 93k, WangXian, SangNing, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Angst Dark LWJ, Protective LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Resentful WWX, Established Relationship, POV Alternating, Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Minor XuanLi, not for jc fans, eventual 3zun, Kid Fic)
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5. Hello! For the fic finder/s, thank you in advance. ♡
For days I've been trying to find this fic. I'm not sure with the details like if wei wuxian is a farmer here or older (i think he is a farmer though) but what I remember is lan wangji making advances to wei wuxian while sleeping (wei wuxian here is known as a heavy sleeper ) but at some point wei wuxian got awake during those and from then on anticipate what lan wangji gonna do, so he knows what lan wangji is doing and there's a number of that that happens. Also, lan wangji is running out of time because he was about to go to the main central or the palace to take an imperial exam (? I'm not sure if that's the term) anyway, he was going with lan sizhui to take that exam. I'm not sure if he goes on the day of the exam but I vaguely remember that he confess his feelings to wei wuxian before or on that day. Then they did the everyday. ヾ(＠゜▽゜＠）ノ
FOUND? #5 is "like the waves return to the shore, again and again" but it's been deleted. There's a link to a cache on the @wangxianficrecs blog around Jan 20, maybe Mod Kay can help?
Regarding #5, I have that story saved. So, if anyone wants to read it, send an ask for WangxianFicRecs or a message to @the-last-d-boy with your mail adress and I'll send it to you. ~Mod Kay
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6. Hi! I've been trying to find a fic (I believe it's a time travel au where Lwj and Jc, or just Jc I'm not sure, travel back in time), but the only scene I remember is a scene where Jc for some reason gets mad with Wwx during the Sunshot Campaign after finding Wwx in the woods around the war camp (I don't remember what Wwx was doing). Jc hits Wwx with zidian and Wwx is sent flying into a tree. Jc gets scared after Wwx doesn't get up and goes see if Wwx is ok, only to find out Wwx's heart is no longer beating. Lwj (I don't remember if he arrived after Jc hit Wwx or if he was already in the woods with Wwx), then, manages to make Wwx's heart beat again by performing CPR on him.
can't find the fic, but I remember it. Maybe these details will help. Lan Wangji found out about WWX not having a core after he gets back from being missing (I think by grabbing his wrist maybe?), but Jiang Cheng doesn't know. He didn't expect that hitting WWX with Zidian would be much of a problem for him and he's totally freaked out when WWX collapses and LWJ starts doing CPR which is what you'd do for a non-cultivator
FOUND? these colours fade for you only by doodlebutt (T, 36k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everybody Lives, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, ...eventually, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Sunshot Campaign) it isn’t a time travel fic, but it has the scene where jc hits wwx with zidian
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7. Completely unrelated to my last ask, I’m looking for a Dragonji fic where his hoard is bunnies. Lan Xichen tries to talk to him in the bunny field but he’s just chilling in his dragon form with the bunnies finding him Good. Lan Xichen flies to the Burial Mounds for desperate negotiations with Wei Wuxian. Eventually Wei Wuxian mentions that Lan Wangji didn’t have any bunnies until WW gave him some. LX has some realizations from that. @any-mouse
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8. hii!! i was searching for a fic where lwj finds wwx's corpse at the BM and things happen. i don't know much but it was cracky. i hope you can find it!! thanks already :D @for13years-i-play-inquiry-foryou
FOUND? (we make) a good pair by gamayuglagay (gracon_bacon) (E, 1k, WangXian, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Necrophilia, Foot Fetish, Vajankle, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Crack Taken Seriously) Warning: NECROPHILIA
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9. I read this time travel fic a while ago which I can't find!
I vaguely remember a lot of dimension travel and a-yuan js sort of helping wei wuxian doing the said travel and a-qing is also there. in one part they reach the past but like not really cultivation world (not sure on that) and meet lan xichen, there's also lwj and wwx of that world who help them get back, there's an spaceship and stuff and I think wen qing was also there maybe?
i just realized that the request i sent was way too vague and so is the summary of the fic, which I was misled while looking for it. also if u could add this to the ficfinder post, to explain why this is the fic I was looking for, it is very confusing I'm sorry!!
apparently it wasnt a-yuan who was helping wwx, but rather an original character and its more parallel universes than time travel!! its abeautiful fic!!
FOUND! counterpart by queensmooting (E, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Parallel Universes, Multiple Selves, Kid Fic, some child endangerment (everyone will be fine), lwj can and has gotten pregnant, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, bittersweet ending (ymmv))
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10. hello! i'm looking for a fic where wwx and lwj have a biological child (i'm not sure if it's a-yuan). i think this fic has an omegaverse setting? lwj doesn't know about the child until a bit later on and even then he's unsure bc when he sees the child and asks wwx, wwx tells him to ask again the next time they meet (or he'll tell him more? i'm not sure). but they don't meet again bc wwx dies at qiongqi path on the way to jl's 1 month celebration via a bunch of arrows courtesy of jin zixun and co. he brought along wn and his child, but wn brings the child to cloud recesses secretly, so jzx doesn't die due to wn. i remember there was a scene where they brought wwx's body to jinlin tai and stripped him naked to scan for the hundred holes curse scars, and jins were creepy about it. lwj was dissociating in this scene and he's sorely disappointed in his brother for not helping stop them. please help, i've been thinking abt this fic for days now 😭 @aracchiii
FOUND! 🧡 Born to Blossom, Bloom to Perish by LadyMithiel (M, 113k, WIP, WangXian, A/B/O, Mpreg, Angst, Mostly Canon compliant)
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11. Hi!!! I'm trying to find a fic (it's an one-shot, if I remember correctly) that happens during the Sunshot Campaign. One of the soldiers sees Jc and Wwx fighting, and they see Wwx flinching, and trying to back away. This soldier (I think they either were sexuality assaulted or knew someone who was sexuality assaulted and reacted like this towards the abuser, I don't remember which one it is now), and they find Wwx's reactions to Jc way too similar to the reactions of someone towards their abuser and comments this with another soldiers. The "Wwx reacts towards sect leader Jiang like someone who was sexuality assaulted does" comment spreads around, and soon becomes rumors that Jc did rape Wwx. Wwx is confused by how suddenly everyone is sympathetic towards him, treat him with care and don't let him alone with Jc. One of the last scenes is Jc mad because Wwx "tarnished his reputation", Wwx not understanding shit of what's going on and Jc getting real scarry. They were in a secluded place, I think. Lwj is walking about and sees Wwx backed away on a tree while Jc is looking really agressive, Wwx looking scared, and he (who has heard of the rumors), goes like "nope, he's not about to take Wy against his will again. Not on my watch" and totally trashes Jc (I don't remember if only verbally or also physically).
FOUND? might be chapter 15 of Vrishchika's short prompts?
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12. heyyy, I read the summary of this fic some time ago and I can't find it anymore.
I think it was a modern au in which wwx dies and lwj is looking for him. might be modern with cultivation or maybe wwx just disappeared and everyone thinks he's died. I dont really remember a lot, help me out.
I'm pretty sure he dies though.
FOUND? when the sun goes out by travelingneuritis (E, 176k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad!WWX, dad!lwj, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears!, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations)
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13. I'm looking for a fanfic where wwx gave his golden core to jc but then developed a black one, and if he uses too much demonic cultivation he can die or something like that. also I don't remember if it's from the same fic or not but I think the annoying cousin of Jin z dies from a curse
FOUND? 🧡 a stone to break your soul, a song to save it by rikke (M, 180k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, arranged marriage)
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14. hello! how are you doing?
i once read a ff in which WWX is rescued/saved/something like that by the Lan Clan i think in the middle of war or something but WWX helps Lan Clan to tackle the problem of crops with his yin energy talisman/array. i hope you will be able to find it (i know its not enough information 😭) @let-it-be-rainbow
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15. hello im looking for a fic where wen ning shoots an arrow at wrh and it hits him in the eye. i think it's a time travel fic but im not sure. also wn asks wq like uncle isn't a good person, is he. i appreciate the assistance
hello im anon on the latest ff #15. sorry, but it's not the fic i was looking for. i remember it being multiple chapters, also the sunshot campaign did happen. the part where wen ning shot wrh was during the final battle of ssc and he was at a high vantage point with wq away from the fighting
NOT FOUND! 💖 Where The Arrow Points by Nillegible (G, 4k, WN & WQ, WN & WWX, WWX & JC, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, No Sunshot Campaign, Because Um. Wen Ning murders Wen Ruohan, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, really)
SIMILAR The Ghost General by English is my death (Lena013) (T, 5k, WN & WWX, WN & WQ, WN centric, BAMF WN, Time Travel Fix-It, what's a conference without someone killing their uncle?WN murders WRH, WN Lives, Ghost General WN, WN looks into his uncle's eyes before killing him, Fierce Corpse WN, Canon Divergence) Actually, I just read the italicised part of the ask for 15, so my suggestion is definitely not it. But it did have time travel WN killing WRH with an arrow!
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16. Hi I’m looking for a specific fic that I thought I had saved, but alas😑
It’s a ‘watching the memories’ type of fic. With protective Jiang Cheng, Lan Xichen, Lan Zhan and juniors.
Anyway I don’t remember much but what I do remember is that the story is set after guanyin temple and that they watched a memory of wwx going about his birthday alone. Qiren and many others were assholes to wwx who just wanted to spend the day with his husband and son, but was constantly denied and berated.
This in turn lead to JG, LZ and LXC I think being angry and protective on his behalf.
That’s all and thank you for the endless effort you all put into finding all these fic’s. @ravenwithwings
FOUND! Music Heals All Forms Of Misery by idontknowwhatimdoinghalfthetime (T, 63k, WIP, WangXian, Fix-It of Sorts, Songfic, Past Character Death, Heavy Angst, Self-Esteem Issues)
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17. Hi hi! Im looking for an Ao3 fic where WQ and WY go to cloud recessess because theyve negotiated protection for the wen remnants with the Lan Clan. The condition is that WY must be purged of all resentful energy, which he and WQ think will kill him, and they believe the Lan clan knows it. Theres a scene where during the purge Lan Zhan realizies whats happening and asks Wei Ying why he would think the Lan wanted to kill/harm him. Pretty sure its a happy ending, or at least hopeful!
Thanks so much, hope youre all well! @la-voce-to-me
FOUND! decay by antebunny (G, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, the fluffiest ending, Hurt/Comfort)
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18. Hi, I am looking for a Wangxian fic that has a lot of twin jade feels I think its starts after the burning of Recesses where both jades are captured by WX and a lot of bad things happen to LWJ after which he ends up forced to work in a brothel where he meets WWX who came to rescue JWY and maybe JZX from the indoctrination and I also remember that LXC was allowed to visit Lan Zhan but only when he was drugged to sleep and that WX knew that the jades kept in line only cause of the other. It probably followed canon divergence and it was a complete fanfic. the story is pretty hazy in my head so I am hoping someone remembers it. thank you.
FOUND! Alter by Solmae (E, 162k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Rape/Non-con Elements, Gang Rape, Forced Prostitution, PTSD, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Torture)
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19. I remember reading a fic where Wei Wuxian was taken as a prisoner, I think maybe by the Nie, and everyone expected him to practice Inedia while kept captive just for him to become extremely ill from lack of food, revealing his lack of golden core. Everyone freaks out a bit
FOUND? ❤️ whipstitch by curiositykilled (M, 131k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Torture, WWX Lives, but basically no one else, Case Fic, Cultivation Sect Politics, Past Abuse, WWX Whump, YL WWX, JL Needs a Hug, JL Tries, Yunmeng Bro Reconciliation, Past Character Death, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, POV Alternating, Flashbacks, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Depression, Not A Fix-It, Mouth Sewn Shut)
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20. Hi👋🏽
I love looking through your fic-finder posts and discovering ‘new’ fics to read !
I’m trying to find a fic taking place after the SunShot Campaign, where WWX takes the role of a Jiang Elder instead of Head Disciple. I’ve tried looking for it by AO3’s filter but was only able to find a similar fic series - Rest of Resolution by MarbleGlove.
Details: WWX somehow fools the JGS into thinking WWX is older than he actually is (Lan Qiren is in on the joke too). @animewatching
FOUND? Like a Water-Worn Stone by meyari (T, 41k, wangxian, major character death, Hurt/Comfort, very little hurt, lots of comfort, Chronic Illness, Serious Injuries, Self-Medication, Disability, PTSD, Depression, Self-Worth Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aftermath of war, Aftermath of Violence, Prisoner of War, Identity Issues, Warning: Jīn Guāngshàn, enslavement (discussion of), abuse (discussion of), actually very fluffy despite the warnings)
FOUND? Elder, an Aesthetic by MarbleGlove (G, 8k, JC & WWX, Fix-It, Post-Sunshot Campaign)
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Bestie! How about a fic where team finds out about them because little Jack says “daddy you didn’t kiss Emmy hello” one pasta night 🤭🤭🤭
oh I LOVE this idea.
Hope you enjoy this bestie <3
-x-
The Darnedest Thing
No one knows Emily and Aaron are together yet, not even Jack. Until he sees them kissing each other goodbye the evening before pasta night.
-x-
Words: 2.2k
Warnings: None!
Read over on Ao3, or below the cut
Emily smiles as the movie's credits start to roll up the screen, and the sleepiness settling into her bones disappears as Aaron kisses her temple.
“He didn’t make it,” Aaron says, kissing her head again as she turns to look at Jack, the little boy fast asleep against her side, “He’ll be so disappointed.”
She hums and runs her fingers through the boy's sandy hair, “We can try again when I’m here at the weekend,” she says, turning to look at her boyfriend, smiling before she leans in to kiss him, “I should go.”
Aaron groans and rests his forehead against hers, “Do you have to go?”
She smiles, capturing his lips in another kiss, her hand cupping the back of his head as she holds him in place, “Unless you want to explain to Jack why I’m still here in the morning, I have to.”
It had been two weeks since their first date, since he’d nervously asked her if she’d like to go to dinner with him and she’d answered before he’d even finished talking. They’d been heading towards this for a long time. Ever since she’d come home from Paris they’d been closer. He was her closest friend, the person she trusted more than anyone else in the world, and she’d be lying if she said this wasn’t the eventuality she had wanted for years. The initial crush she’d had on him when she first started at the BAU turning into love somewhere along the way, a feeling she didn’t have the name for until she was on another continent, doomed to replay all her mistakes in her head again and again. A grim showreel of missed opportunities that she would torture herself with when sleep evaded her.
No one knew about them yet, not even Jack, and they’d spent as much time just the two of them as they could. Aaron had snuck into her room on their most recent case, spent hours pulling her apart with a precision as if he’d known her body for years not just a couple of weeks. He’d fallen asleep next to her, his arm heavy and warm across her waist a comfort she already found herself struggling to sleep without. She was hopelessly in love with him, and she knew he felt the same, but she knew it was too soon to say it. They’d both been hurt, torn apart by what life had to offer, and they’d put themselves back together.
“We’ll tell him this weekend,” he says, kissing her cheek before he stands up, gently easing Jack off of her shoulder so she can slip out from under him. He lays Jack down on the couch, resting his head on a cushion and then turns to his girlfriend, “We’ll go to his soccer game and then diner he loves, and then we’ll tell him.”
She hums as they walk towards the door and she smiles softly when he grabs her jacket for her, holding it out so she can slip her arms into it. She reaches down for her sneakers and slips them on, automatically placing her hand on his shoulder so she keeps her balance.
“He’ll be okay with it, right?” She asks, avoiding his eye contact as she stands up straight again, anxious about how Jack would feel about the change in their relationship. She never wanted to be the way, to fill a space that hadn’t been made for her, “He won’t be upset?”
Aaron smiles softly at her and pulls her in for a hug, his arms banding tightly around her back as he encourages her closer. He knew his son loved her almost as much as he did. She was all the little boy spoke about, and she was absolutely his favourite person on the planet and she always had been, long before Aaron realised he loved her too.
“He’ll be happy, sweetheart,” he says, stamping his lips against hers, smiling into it before he pulls back, “You’re his favourite person.”
She grins at him and wraps her arms around his shoulders, “He’s mine too.”
Aaron fakes annoyance, a playful scoff escaping him as he raises an eyebrow at her, “I’m not?”
She hums as if she’s thinking about it and then she shrugs, her smile mischievous, “You’re definitely up there,” she kisses him, taking a moment to sink into it, to take enough of him to last her until she saw him in work in the morning, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” he repeats back to her, kissing her one more time before letting her go and opening the front door for her, “Remember it’s pasta night tomorrow.”
She stops in the doorway and nods, stamping her lips against his before she winks and starts to walk away, “I know the perfect spot at Dave’s for us to sneak away to so we can make out.”
He laughs and shakes his head at her, watching her disappear down the hall, his eyes fixed on her back until she’s no longer in view.
He’s so focused, that he doesn’t notice Jack sitting up on the couch, his head tilted curiously before he lays back down and pretends to be asleep.
___
Emily sighs contentedly as she rings the doorbell to Dave’s house, pleased to have another work week behind her. Another team was on call this weekend, so there was no chance they would be interrupted, and she was looking forward to her time with Aaron and Jack.
Despite her boyfriend's reassurance the night before, she still felt the nerves tingling in her gut at the thought of telling Jack about their relationship. She’d never had many things go right for her, and she was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for reality to hit. If Jack didn’t want them to be together they couldn’t be. He was Aaron’s priority, as he should be, and it was one of the many things she loved about him.
She’s pulled out of her thoughts as the door opens and she comes face to face with Dave, her smile genuine as he raises his eyebrow at her, taking the bottle of wine she’s offering out to him.
“This better be decent,” he says as he steps back to let her in, “We both know you can afford it.”
“Hello to you too, Dave,” she replies, closing the door behind her, “And we also both know you have a cellar full of wine.”
He chuckles and leans in to kiss her cheek, “Everyone is in the living room, you’re the last one here.”
She follows him in and smiles widely at everyone as she does so, her gaze briefly locking with Aaron’s. Her smile turns curious as Jack jumps off the couch and walks over to her, wrapping his arms tightly around her as if it hadn’t been just a day since he’d last seen her.
“Emily!” He says enthusiastically, looking up at her as she hugs him back, “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, honey,” she replies, smiling as he takes her hand and leads her over to the couch Aaron is sitting on, “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“Jess is sick,” Aaron says to her, making a point of leaving an appropriate amount of space between them as she sits down, Jack sitting on her other side, “But Jack insisted I still came here tonight.”
She smiles and nods, and turns to look at Penelope who is about to say something, when Jack leans across her to get Aaron’s attention.
“Daddy?” He asks, stage whispering in the way only a child can, every adult in the room listening to him as Aaron nods at his son, “Why didn’t you kiss Emily hello?”
Emily’s eyes go wide, and she doesn’t have to be looking at Aaron to know his do too, both of them caught out so unexpectedly that it takes them a moment to school their features.
Aaron clears his throat, well aware of everyone’s gaze burning into them, “Why would I do that buddy?”
Jack frowns and looks at him as if it’s obvious, “Because she’s your girlfriend. You kissed her goodbye last night.”
The room is, all too briefly for Emily’s liking, silent. And then everyone starts talking at once.
“You guys kissed?”
“How long has this been going on?”
“I knew it.”
Aaron holds his hand up and silences them all with nothing more than a stern look before he talks to his son, making sure all of his attention is on him.
“You saw that, Jack?” He asks and Jack nods, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Jack shrugs, “I’ve always thought you were boyfriend and girlfriend.”
Emily chuckles and runs her fingers through his hair, briefly ignoring everyone else, “You don’t mind, sweetie?”
He shakes his head, “I like it when you spend time with us.”
She presses her lips together as she tries to suppress a smile at the simplicity of his logic, and she leans in to kiss his forehead, “I like spending time with you too.”
The tension in the room is slightly awkward, unasked questions in the air that no one would ask with Jack in the room, and neither Emily nor Aaron know where to start. JJ clears her throat and stands up, offering her hand out to Jack.
“Why don’t you come with me to the kitchen, Jack? I think some of Henry’s juice boxes are still here from last time.”
Jack looks at Aaron as if for permission, and he smiles and nods at his son who then takes JJ’s hand and walks out of the room with her. Emily makes eye contact with her friend as they leave and she mouths her thanks at her. JJ’s response is a raise of her eyebrow that says nothing short of you owe me.
As soon as Jack is out of the room, Emily sighs and looks up at her friends, a range of emotions painted across their faces, and she sighs, “Okay, let us have it.”
Aaron wraps his arm around her shoulders as they diligently answer the questions their friends have, curiosity, and in Penelope’s case enthusiasm, seeping out of their every pore. She sinks into Aaron’s side as they carry on, on some level relieved that the secret is out, but also lamenting that they didn’t even make it a month without their friends finding out.
“Have you thought this through?” Derek asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks at them, his tone cutting through the lighthearted nature of the conversation so far.
Emily narrows her eyes at him, irritation licking at her insides, “Thought what through?”
“The impact this could have on the team,” he replies, leaning forward, “Any slight change in our dynamic could be dangerous, and I don’t know if a fling is-”
She’s furious, the irritation catching fire immediately at his comment about their relationship, and she is about to tell him off when Aaron holds her even closer, cutting her off before she even gets the chance to speak.
“This isn’t just a fling, I love her,” he says firmly, only realising what he’s said when Derek’s eyes go wide and Emily tenses in his embrace.
A surprised laugh escapes her, her heart seizing in her chest as she turns to look at him, “You do?”
She’d known he loved her, of course she did. She felt it in the way he held her, the way he kissed her like she was the most delicate thing on the planet. He looked after her in a way she was sure she should find suffocating but found that she enjoyed. He was always looking at her, a spark in his eyes that looked an awful lot like forever, and she felt loved, and she had done a long time before their first kiss.
Despite knowing, she can’t deny that it is nice to hear, the slightly angry admission aimed at their friend easing a knot of anxiety she hadn’t known was in the pit of her stomach, his mix of affection and protection gently tugging the pieces of it apart. For a moment, the others all disappear, their world narrowing down to just the two of them. He clears his throat, pushing down the nervousness that was attempting to climb up it, her face worryingly unreadable as she stares at him, her dark brown eyes boring into his. His tongue darts out and licks his lower lip, chasing the bravery she’d pressed against them only a couple of hours earlier during their clandestine kiss in his office before she’d left for the day.
“Yes,” he says, a smile flashing across his face, “I do. I love you, Emily.”
It’s the longest second of his life, but then she smiles at him, wide and bright and beautiful as she cups his cheek, her eyes searching his as presses her lips together, “I love you too.”
She leans in to kiss him again, but is cut off by Dave clearing his throat, an amused smile on his face as they both turn to look at him.
“So,” he asks, leaning back in his seat, his smile turning into a smirk, “When’s the wedding?”
Emily groans and rests her forehead on Aaron’s shoulder, muttering so only he can hear her, “Your son is so lucky he’s cute.”
-x-
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Jump Then Fall - Part 3
Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc “Vanessa Morales”
Word Count: 3600+
Rating: M for mature - 18+ only!
Warnings: Please be aware there is an 11 year age gap. Mature themes and some canon mentioned. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Notes: When the story starts, Vanessa is 19 and Javier is 30.
**Shoutout to @VaneMando15 for listening and bouncing ideas from me, and for her guidance with being a Latina herself. Without her, this wouldn’t even be a thing, just another line on my WIP spreadsheet. And also to my husband, who is also Latino and answered any questions I had (along with taking me to Colombia back in 2014). And to @wyn-n-tonic, who listened to my rambles and insecurities about writing an oc in first person.
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❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)
Jump Then Fall Masterlist
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Javier Peña Masterlist
<<Part 2<<
He's coming back. Chucho is bringing Javier back after 6 years. What do I say? How do I tell him he has a son who is already 6 years old? Will he even remember me? Will he want to be a part of mine and Alex's life or will he turn and run?
My mind spirals as I finish drying the last few pans before putting them away. I head upstairs, my brain going through a million different scenarios before I take a quick glance in the mirror. I smooth down my hair and put on a new outfit, a simple summer dress that goes down to my knees, and end up randomly tidying and cleaning the house, never settling on one spot.
I knew this day would come. I guess I just never thought about it specifically. 6 years ago, I was so sure of my choice not to tell him, that I wouldn't want him distracted in Colombia but I wouldn't want him to come home and resent us for forcing his choice. But a part of me, ok a large part of me, feels guilty for not giving him the choice.
I hear Chucho's truck pull up outside and my heart starts beating faster. The truck doors slam and muted voices make their way to the front door. I pick up the book on the counter in front of me and open it, my eyes not taking in a word but I didn't want to look like I was waiting around for them. For him.
"...'m fine. You don't have to b-baby me."
"I'm just trying to make sure you don't vomit on the clean floors."
He's drunk. I can tell by the way his words are slurred, his feet thunking across the wood floors in a sporadic pattern. Before I can move, he stumbles through the kitchen doorway, his eyes taking a few moments to focus on me.
"Who are you?"
My hearts sinks a little. I would've been surprised if he remembered me, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt.
"Vanessa."
He steps closer to me, his eyes scanning my body before settling on mine.
"Are you fucking my dad?"
"Uh, no. I-"
"Ok, Javi. Time for bed. Vanessa will be here later for you to question," Chucho claps his hands on Javier's shoulders and guides him towards the doorway.
"Ok, ok. I have more questions later, Vanessssssa."
I give him a little wave as he disappears through the doorway. Chucho struggles to get him up the stairs, but eventually the sounds of them arguing disappear and I'm left alone for the moment. I turn around, gripping the counter with both of my hands and take several deep breaths.
He doesn't remember me. Or maybe it's because he's drunk? How do I handle it now?
His eyes, though filled with the drink, held a lot of anger and regret. He's hurting. I can't imagine what he's seen or had to do in persuit of Escobar. Chucho walks back in, breaking me from my thoughts.
"Sorry about him. He doesn't usually get drunk like that."
I wave my hand. "It's fine. I imagine he's been through a lot."
"Still, it's not an excuse to act like an asshole...he's going to be out for a bit but I'm thinking hamburgers for dinner? Something greasy to help that hangover he's going to have."
"Sounds good."
Chucho studies me for a moment. "How are you?"
That's a good question. "I...I'm not entirely sure."
"You need to tell him."
I nod. "Of course. But I can't tell him when he's drunk."
He chuckles. "No, I suppose not. But soon, ok?"
I give him a small smile before moving to get out the ingredients to bake some hamburger buns. Chucho moves to the living room, the tv turning on a moment later. He flips the channel and the news report echoes through the doorway to me.
"Breaking news! Pablo Escobar has just been killed. This is live footage of the rooftop where he was killed by DEA agent Steve Murphy..."
I step into the living room, watching the live broadcast of the rooftops where the outline of a dead man lays splaid on the tiles, other men in tach vests surrounding him. A blonde man high fives someone as the news anchor continues their report. But then it dawns on me.
Javier is not there, finally catching Escobar after 6 years of chasing him. He's here. No wonder he's drunk. What happened?
"Why is Javier here, Chucho?"
He's quiet a moment. "I don't know."
I return to the kitchen, mixing the dough before forming the buns. I can't imagine working for 6 years trying to catch one of the most elusive men, only to be forced away at the very end, not even being allowed to be there for his capture. I'd lose my mind too. I know I need to tell him about Alex, but I also need to give him a moment with this.
But how long of a moment?
-------
It takes 3 days for Javier to come out of a drunken stupor. I hear his bedroom door open as he stumbles down the hall with a groan, the bathroom door closing behind him. I hear a slam from the bathroom, sounding like the toilet lid. I wipe my hands on my apron and head upstairs, hesitating for a moment outside of the bathroom door. I knock very gently.
"Javier? Are you alright?"
A grunt followed by another violent heaving sound answers me. I turn the handle, slowly pushing the door open as the heaving subsides. Javier slumps against the side of the bathtub, his hand moving around to find the handle to flush the toilet. His hair is rumpled, his eyes mostly closed, clad only in a pair of sweatpants. I walk over to the toilet and close the lid, flushing the toilet for him. His hand drops to his lap and he takes a couple of deep breaths.
"Thanks."
"Of course. Do you want help up?"
He cracks his eyes open and looks at me. "You're not my dad."
"That I am not."
He lifts his head, opening his eyes a little more before hissing and closing them, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "The fucking light is going to kill me."
"Well I can't do anything about the light coming in this window. But let's get you back to your room in bed. You'll feel better."
I wait a few moments while he gathers himself, extending my hand to help him up. He squints at me and I roll my eyes.
"Just take my hand. I'm stronger than I look."
He takes it and I have to hold back a gasp as his large hands engulf my small ones, the warmth from the contact sparking all sorts of thoughts and memories. I pull him to his feet and he leans on me as I help him back to his room, pulling back the sheets as he slides in. I pull all of his curtains firmly shut, only using the light from the hallway to see around. Javier settles into bed, groaning a little as he puts his hand on his stomach.
"I'll bring you some water and pain meds."
"Oh you don't have-"
"That wasn't a question."
I head back downstairs, getting a glass of water. I stop by the bathroom again, opening the medicine cabinet and getting out some pain meds. I also pull out the bottle of activated charcoal tablets that Chucho handed me shortly after Javier came home. He said they suck to choke down but they'd really help the hangover. I carry everything to his room, shaking out the right amount of charcoal tablets. Javier sits up with another groan, taking the pills and the glass of water.
"This isn't aspirin."
"No. It's activated charcoal. Chucho said it will really help your hangover. You can't take it with any meds though as it'll just absorb those."
"I'll just take the aspirin."
"I really think you need to take the charcoal."
He looks up at me. "I don't even know who you are why the fuck would I listen to you?"
"Because I just carried your stubborn self all the way from the bathroom after you puked your guts out. I'm just trying to help. Take the damn pills."
He studies me through squinted eyes. "Yes ma'am." He chokes down the pills and makes a disgusted face before drinking several sips of water. "Those taste terrible."
"I never claimed they tasted good. So let those do their work and get some rest. When you're ready, come downstairs and I'll make you something to eat."
He looks at me again, his eyebrows slightly furrowed together in concentration. "No really, who are you?"
"Vanessa. Now get some rest."
He lays back and I pull the blanket up, giving him a small smile when I catch him looking at me. I leave the room and head back downstairs, finishing up some of the lesson planning I was doing for the upcoming semester.
A few hours later, Javier comes downstairs, this time with a shirt. Although he only has the bottom 3 buttons done up. I'm not sure why he even bothered with a shirt. Not that I'm complaining. He stands there awkwardly, like he doesn't know what to do.
"Feeling better?" I ask, turning to face him from my stool at the kitchen island.
"Yeah. Those charcoal things worked really well."
"Good. I've never been hungover so I wasn't sure, but I figured Chucho knew what he was talking about. Are you hungry?"
"I uh...I'm not sure," his hand goes to his stomach, his face souring slightly.
I head over to the slow cooker on the counter. "I made some chicken noodle soup. If anything, you can sip on the broth?" I look over at him, his head cocked to the side, watching me.
"Javier?"
"What? Oh soup. Yeah. Sure."
I ladle him a bowl and grab some saltines and set them on a little plate next to his bowl and set it in front of him. I also set down a glass filled with cloudy looking water.
"Coconut water?" Javier asks skeptically.
I shrug. "My mom always gave it to me during and after a cold. Said it gave me back nutrients. I figure alcohol probably takes a fair amount of nutrients from you. So it should help."
"Hhmm. Guess we'll find out." He takes a tentative sip from the cup, licking his lips a little after. "Hey that's sitting alright."
I give him a small smile. "Good."
Before I can move, he grabs my arm and gives it a little squeeze, sending jolts of electricity through me. "Thank you."
"Y-you're welcome."
I sit and pull my planner and books to me, resuming my task of lesson planning. I can feel his eyes on me, like he's studying me. I wish he would find something else more interesting.
"What are you doing?"
I don't look up. "Lesson planning for this upcoming semester."
He takes a slurp of his soup and swallows it. "Teacher? Holy shit this soup is amazing."
I look up at him as he takes another bite, his eyes closing for a moment as he savors the soup.
"Yeah. I'm teaching 2nd grade this year."
"Sounds fun. Seriously, what did you do to this soup?"
"My mom taught me how to cook," My eyes sting and my heart hurts thinking of those memories.
"Well, she did a damn good job."
"Sometimes she got it right."
He looks up at me. "Oh. I'm sorry I touched a nerve."
I wave my hand. "It's ok. I've come to terms with it."
He sets his spoon down, all of his focus on me. His gaze is intense, that little furrow between his brow is back. "You look-"
"Good you're awake, puto. Put some pants on and come help me." Chucho walks in the back door, stomping his boots on the mat outside before stepping in.
"I don't know if I-"
"Come on, son. No more babying I gave you time. Now I need your young bones."
"You sound like a bruja." (witch). But Javier pushes back from the island and starts to grab his plate.
"Don't worry about it, I got it." I stand, leaning over to take the bowl and plate, noticing that he'd eaten all of it. "I have more if you want some."
His dark eyes bore into mine, fanning a flame inside of me. "I want whatever you give me, Vanessa."
SMACK! Chucho slaps Javier on the back of his head.
"What the fuck?"
"Stop flirting and come help me before these chickens run halfway to Mexico."
-------
Chucho and Javier are gone for a few more hours and return just as the sun is setting. I hang up the phone, having had my nightly call with Alex, who is having a blast at science camp. The men kick off their work boots and coats, trudging upstairs to shower.
"Dinner will be ready soon so don't take long!" I yell after them.
Chucho devours the steak I'd made him while Javier opts to have another couple bowls of soup. Before long, Chucho leans back, slapping his stomach.
"Well, I am tired. Gonna get an early sleep. Vanessa? Delicious, as usual. Night, everyone."
"Good night, Chucho."
While he heads upstairs, I start to clean up, Javier immediately moving to help me. I shake my head.
"Nope. I got this."
"I can help."
"Really, it's ok."
"Are you always this stubborn?
"Are you?"
He looks at me before he smirks, but then it's gone just as fast. Man am I fucked.
"I can dry?"
"I appreciate the offer, but really. I'm ok."
"Does washing the dishes relax you or something?"
I know he said it in jest, but now that I think about it, it kind of does. The warm, soapy water calms me down. Gives me space to think.
"Yeah sort of."
He puts his hands up. "Say no more. I don't want to intrude." Did he just wink at me? Javier heads from the kitchen and I hear the front door open, the screen door slapping closed behind him.
After I'm done with the dishes, I dry my hands, thinking. I grab another glass of coconut water and head towards the front door, hesitating for several moments before pushing open the screen. Javier sits on the swing bench, facing out to look over the front half of the farm, a cigarette lit and in between his fingers. He takes a long drag, his lips rounding to blow out the smoke.
"I thought you should hydrate again." I hold up the glass and he turns to look at me, his eyes coming back into focus. He beckons me to him and I walk up, handing him the glass.
"That's a nasty habit, you know," I nod towards the cigarette in his hand.
He shrugs. "You have your relaxing activity, and I have mine." Still, he leans forward and puts it out on the tray he'd set on the arm of the bench. "Come. Sit."
I take a breath and sit, our thighs nearly touching. The air feels electrified, like it's waiting for something to happen. We sit like this for a while, staring out at the cows grazing in the front fields, Javier lightly rocking the swing as he rolls his foot back and forth.
"Thank you for...everything. Taking care of me and..everything." He turns his head to look at me in the light coming in through the windows from the house.
"It's not a problem. Anyone would do it."
He snorts. "Not for me."
"And why not?"
He pauses a moment. "I'm not a good guy."
"Well I know that's not true. You're a great man, Javier." I place my hand on his forearm without thinking, and squeeze. He looks down at where I touch him, placing his hand over mine before looking at me.
"I'm really not. I just..." He trails off, his eyes sweeping over my face. "You...you look familiar. It's been killing me for days."
Well. Now is the time. For this confession, at least.
"That's because we know each other."
His brow furrows slightly. "I had a feeling. From where?"
It still hurts a little that he doesn't remember, even though I know it's a trauma response. Memory loss and PTSD can often go hand in hand.
"You...you gave me a rose, once."
Recognition immediately ripples over his face, his eyes widening, his eyebrows raising a little as he shifts his body to face me.
"Vanessa? From the bar? Right before I left for Colombia?"
I smile nervously. "That's me."
"Summer of new things Vanessa?"
I nod. "Yup. Me."
His eyes are twinkling now, a small smile creeping up his face. "Holy shit! I never thought I'd see you again. It was so hard to walk away from you that morning. The only thing that did it was the fact that the DEA would come down on me hard for missing that flight." His eyes soften the longer he looks in mine and for a moment, we're both transported back to that night, the night he opened up my world.
"H-how are you?" He's hesitant, but his eyes are wide and curious.
"Not bad."
"How did you end up here? I thought you were going back to-" he waves his hand around trying to think. "Austin?"
"Corpus Christi."
He snaps his fingers. "That was it."
Do I tell him about Alex? About being a father? Something inside me tells me to wait. To only surprise Javier with one thing at a time. He's been through so much and the last thing I want to do is pile more on top of that.
"It's a long story but I...got pregnant and my parents..well, they didn't approve. Out of wedlock. Anyway, they kicked me out and I uh, ended up here. Chucho I guess took pity on me and gave me a place to stay. I offered to cook and clean for him which of course he argued against, but," I shrug. "And so I stayed. He demanded I return to college and get my teaching degree I had been working on and he babysat Alex while I did. I owe him so much. My life, basically. I don't know how I'll be able to repay him."
His eyes grew serious. "You're parents kicked you out pregnant?"
I nod. "Yeah."
"That's fucked. Sorry, but it is."
I shrug. "They were the kind of parents that would scrub my mouth out with soap and make me repeat scripture if I had nail polish on so I guess I'm not surprised. I've made peace with it."
"Still. I'm sorry that happened to you."
"Thanks."
We sit in silence for another few moments, one weight on my chest lifted but a very heavy one still remaining.
"The dad didn't help?"
Here's your chance, Vanessa. You can tell him now, despite everything. Tell him. TELL. HIM.
"He...He had other things to do."
Javier scoffs. "What an asshole."
I shake my head vehemently. "No, it's not..they were very important."
"More important than knocking up a young woman?"
"I think so."
"I'm sure."
I turn to face him more directly. "What if it was yo-"
RING RING! RING RING!
The phone cuts through our conversation, forcing an ending that I wasn't ready for. Javier attempts to stand but I put my hand out.
"It might be Alex. I've got it."
I feel his eyes on me as I go inside, answering the phone quickly. It wasn't Alex but some automated political message and I grunt, hanging up the phone in frustration. I should go back outside and explain everything to him, confess it all, but I don't. I do peak my head back outside and call his name, momentarily flustered when he looks at me.
"It was some political something."
"I fucking hate those."
"I'm going upstairs. Drink that coconut water." I point to the untouched glass in his hand and he holds it up towards me.
"Yes, ma'am."
-------
>>Chapter 4>>
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The Artist and the Builder [a Joel x reader fic]
Read on Ao3
Sequel: All The Fear and the Fire of the End of the World
Fandom: The Last of Us
Ship: Joel Miller x you/artist!reader who is his age and has arthritis and allergies.
Tags/warnings: Bit of pining, Joel is sweet and settling in, reader has joint pain and allergies, kissing, pretty tame foreplay, a little fumbling, teasing, insertion of objects into vagina that probably shouldn't be there but it's the apocalypse there ain't no dildos, vaginal orgasm, Joel is Too Big and also has Bad Knees, piv sex, cuddling, artist stuff listen I don't know how to do this anymore.
Summary: Gruff contractor Joel Miller has been in Jackson for a while and up until now, you thought he didn't like you because you're an artist and who the hell needs art in the post-apocaypse? But you are wrong.
Words: 7,139
A/N: Listen I know absolutely nothing about being an artist, sorry about that. I also don't have allergies or arthritis (although I suspect I am going down that road but let's cross that bridge when we get there). I just want Joel to be soft with someone his age whose body is falling apart. Many many thanks to @pazizz and @rambling-in-purple who helped me with this one. It started as one thing but ended something else. I really appreciate the help along the way <3
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The ache protrudes harshly into your dreams and tears you away from sleep way before it’s time to get up. It grows stronger as you come to, and you carefully try to open your hands. Each joint is like a rusty hinge that creaks and whines when moved, and you sigh deeply as you hide your hands in opposite armpits in an attempt to warm them up. Your mother had arthritis and would tell you in a bland voice that you’d probably get it, too. She had it, her mother had it, and so on. But that seemed so far away, you had your whole life ahead of you, and you had just settled down and started to live after your crazy twenties when the outbreak happened, and survival became your only goal. Despite it all, you managed to live for twenty more years, and then got slapped with the family curse.
Closing your hands around a mug of hot tea, you walk around the living-room of your small house and inspect your various half-finished projects: paper made of plants, clay paint, painted mugs. The whole house smells like a compost, so you open a window to let in a cool breeze. You immediately feel it in your aching hands but do your best to ignore it.
Sitting down at your drawing table, you pick up the charcoal and sketch a couple of lines to the profile you’re working on. It doesn’t feel right, however, so you put down the charcoal again. Restless, you sip some tea, your foot tapping against the floor.
Eventually, you have to go to the infirmary, where Robert, Jackson’s doctor, already is treating his first patient of the day.
You like Robert, like being of use, but being a nurse isn’t what you wanted. You trained to be one, yes, and worked as one for years because it felt like a good, honest profession, and your parents insisted. At nearly 30, however, you quit, and went back to school to pursue your true calling: art. You had almost finished your education when the world went to shit, and your passion no longer counted for anything. For the past twenty years, you’ve thrown yourself after art supplies like other people after food, but even paper is becoming harder to come by. Hence your experiments using plants.
“Your hands bothering you?” Robert asks around lunch, and you nod silently. You haven’t said anything, but he notices.
“Take the rest of the day off.”
“I’m good.”
“Just go, okay? I can’t give you anything for the pain, but I can give you the day off.”
You accept gratefully, and as you change into your normal clothes, you decide to go check at the latest construction site if there’s any sawdust to be had.
You hear the promising sound of a saw working its way through wood as you get closer to the latest house being erected, and when you reach it, Joel Miller looks up from the sawhorse and straightens his back. You think you see a grimace flash across his face, but then he carefully rearranges his features into the usual scowl.
Joel’s been in Jackson for a while now. You don’t really know much about him, except for what you’ve heard from others: that he walked across the country from Boston with the girl in search of his brother, and when the place where he was supposed to drop off the girl was destroyed, they both came back here. He seems to have settled well, and he’s handy, so he’s a welcome addition. He doesn’t really seem to understand your needs, though: when you first asked him if he could save some sawdust for your papermaking, he scoffed when he learned that you needed the paper for art. You bit back on an acid remark. Art wasn’t valued very highly in this world, but it’s what made you happy, and you didn’t care what someone like Joel fucking Miller thought.
“Hi,” you say, stopping in front of the sawhorse. “You got something for me?”
He wipes his forehead on his sleeve and nods towards the wall of the house he’s building. There are three buckets by it, and you see that two of them are filled with yellow sawdust, the third one with nettle leaves. Puzzled, you look over at him. You can’t really figure him out.
“What’s this?”
“Ellie said you were looking for nettles in the vegetable patches,” he mutters. “Passed by a bunch of them on patrol yesterday.”
You chew on your lower lip as you process the unexpected kindness.
“Thank you,” you eventually say. “I appreciate it.”
“No problem.” Joel picks up the saw again and goes back to working on shortening the board propped on the sawhorse. The woodsy scent of sawdust fills your nostrils, and you catch a whiff of sweat from Joel, despite the cool weather.
The buckets are proving difficult to pick up. Your fingers refuse to curl around the handles, and even if the weight is more than manageable, your hands are just not having it today. You swallow hard, embarrassed by your frailty, when Joel steps up behind you.
“I’ll take those.”
Big hands close around the handles of the sawdust buckets. You pick up the nettle bucket and start to walk towards your house. Joel walks alongside you, silent and avoiding looking at you just as you are stubbornly staring in any direction but his.
“I have arthritis,” you finally tell him, naming your disease with disgust dripping from your tongue. “My hands don’t work so well some days.”
“That’s rough,” he offers. “I used to have a neighbor who had that. Sorry.”
You finally venture a glance at him. His features offer nothing of what’s going on behind those dark brown eyes.
You arrive at your house, and Joel carries in the buckets for you. You see from how his nostrils flare that he wasn’t prepared for the earthy smell of your home.
“Just put them down there,” you ask him, gesturing to him. Joel does that and is left standing in the doorway to your living-room. He looks around at your various half-finished projects, the pictures on the walls, all your attempts at creating art with whatever materials you've been able to get your aching hands on.
You pretend to busy yourself with washing your hands, but you're really watching him. You've seen this before: people who don't care about art seeing art in a whole new way for the first time. They're always slammed in the face with it, and it's a very delicate moment that shouldn't be disturbed. So you busy yourself at the sink, rinse out your cup despite it being close to clean already, warm up your hands some more with water, open the cupboards and rearrange things. Joel disappears into the living-room, his heavy, unfamiliar boots causing the floorboards to complain about every step he takes. You hear him walk around slowly, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quietly, you walk over to the doorway to sneak a peek at him.
He's standing by your desk, holding up a paper with a half-finished sketch. To your horror, the picture is of him, the one that you just can't get right because you can't figure him out, can't combine his threatening glower with the warm smile he reserves for his close ones.
You almost dash across the floor and snatch the paper from his hands before throwing it down on the desk, picture down.
"That's not finished, I mean, it's not... you weren't supposed to see it."
"It's good," Joel states simply. You glance at him as you mindlessly rearrange the sketches on your desk.
"Thanks."
His stare is piercing and hard to meet, so you cast down your eyes to a sketch of Ellie right in front of you. Joel follows your gaze and sees it.
"Can I see that?"
You bite your lower lip, pick up the sketch and hand it to him. You're happier with this one: Ellie's face is open, honest. She talks, questions, comments. You've barely heard ten words in all from Joel, and he's been around for months.
"You really captured her," he admires you. "Did she pose for this?"
"No," you shake your head, "but I've worked together with her occasionally. It's easier to draw someone when you know how they move and talk and such."
He hums in agreement as he studies the picture.
"Is that why you haven't finished my picture?" he eventually asks, catching you off guard. "Because you haven't spent time with me?"
"Probably," you shrug, and hold up your hand for him to relinquish the picture back to you. He does, and the line between his brows seems to melt away when he asks you if you'd want to finish his portrait.
"I can come by tonight after work."
You meet his soft gaze and nod.
"Yeah, okay."
///
You're in the middle of dipping your paper molds into a tub of pulp and putting them to dry when there's a knock on the door. You call out a "come in" as you wash your hands under water as hot as you can manage. Not good at staying passive, you've strained your hands all day continuing with your experiments.
Joel steps in, eyeing the room immediately before settling his nut-brown gaze on you.
"How are your hands?" he wants to know. You shrug.
"The same."
You reach for your jacket, and Joel grunts questioningly. You raise a brow at him.
"Are we going out?"
"I need fresh air."
"It does smell in here." A grin flashes by his face, almost shocking you. Was that a joke?
"Sorry," he immediately apologizes, taking your silence for chagrin. You smile wryly.
"Don't worry. It really is smelly, I just don't notice anymore."
You leave your house together and start walking slowly down the street. The evening is cold in a refreshing way, and you hide your gloved hands in your pockets, both to keep them warm and to keep them occupied. Keeping your eyes trained on some invisible spot in the distance, you try to figure out something to say. It doesn't feel like you and Joel have a lot in common, and all those old icebreakers of "where are you from" and "do you have a family" can be sensitive in this world. You opt for something you do know about him.
"Did you build houses before?"
He takes a second to answer, but finally tells you that he was indeed a contractor.
"Always good to know how to build things," you comment. Joel hums in agreement before clearing his throat.
"And you? You usually work in the infirmary."
"I was a nurse, but I didn't like it much," you tell him. "I went back to school to study art, but the breakout happened before I finished. And nobody needs art to survive. So I work as a nurse."
Joel doesn't say anything, but nods to a passer-by.
"Do you like being a contractor?" you ask. Once again, he takes a little time before presenting his answer.
"I do."
"Good, honest work, huh?"
"Something like that. And..." He hesitates, gaze flickering when you turn your head to look at him.
"It's nice to build something instead of destroying it," he finally mutters. You nod slowly.
"Yes. Yes, it is."
Without hurry, you walk around Jackson three times while talking. Joel is a man of few words, but the words he does utter are well chosen and sometimes heavy with information. He talks about his former construction work but doesn't utter one word about his personal life, possible family, likely loss. His voice is warm when he talks about Ellie, the teenager he delivered across the country, only to find that the people who were supposed to take care of her were already dead and buried. There is a momentary crack in his facade when he talks about his failed mission to bring Ellie to Salt Lake City, but he quickly gathers himself, and states that that's how both ended up in Jackson. He seems happy enough with those turns of events.
You tell him about your art education, about how you ever since you were a young child have seemed to notice how light falls on objects, faces, your surroundings, and the deep-seated urge to draw the light, paint it, trace is with a brush in futile attempts to replicate the magic. The light changes everything, how the world is viewed, and you're constantly trying to capture those moments when the light renders a common kitchen utensil magical, just because the first rays of morning sunshine catch the curves and angles of it. You're not sure he understands, but he does listen.
Eventually, you stop outside your house, facing each other. Darkness has fallen and you didn't leave the porch light on, so you struggle to see his face in what little light there is to be had from the moon, and the glow from the windows of the neighboring houses.
"It was nice talking to you," you say sincerely.
"You too."
You hide your hands in the opposite armpits in an attempt to keep them warm. The cold is getting to them, even with gloves.
"Will I see you tomorrow?"
Joel blinks.
"You're not going to draw me?"
"It's too dark."
"Ah." You hear from his tone that he just realized that you've been talking about light this whole time. His head shifts on top of that long, strong neck, his face turns a little to the side and you catch the profile of his aquiline nose against the faint light coming from the neighbor's house.
And you know you have to try to draw him like this, half cloaked in darkness, the bridge of his nose sharp against soft light, maybe from a fire, the shadows painting dark valleys on his face with his frown, the glint of grey in his beard, a lock of hair curling by his ear.
"Maybe not," you correct yourself and step past his towards your porch. "Come on in."
You load up the fireplace, your hands only trembling slightly from the weight of the wood. Joel kneels next to you by the fireplace and takes the matches from you. A protest rests on the tip of your tongue, but the brief touch of his warm, callused hand makes you swallow it. You stand up and watch him light the fire, breathe life into the kindling, and carefully place smaller twigs on the first, small flames before rocking back to watch the fire grow. You move your weight from one foot to the other, tuck your hands into your pockets. Joel glances up at your fidgeting.
"Your hands hurtin'?"
"It's the cold," you shrug. "But it's fine, it's not that bad."
You take a step back, towards the kitchen.
"Want a cup of tea?"
"Sure. Thanks."
When you return with two mugs of steaming tea, the fire is crackling merrily. Joel rises, joints popping, and accepts one mug from you with one hand, the other suddenly taking a gentle hold of your wrist. You twitch, the tea spills over a little, but you don't pull back your hand. Slowly, Joel covers it with his big, broad palm, so much warmer than yours, and you almost instantly feel the heat spread into your aching joints.
When you search his averted gaze, he releases your hand, and clears his throat.
"Thanks for the tea," he murmurs, and you nod quickly.
"You're welcome."
You busy yourself with emptying the run-down armchair from various knick-knacks and tools, and indicate the seat for him. Carefully, as if afraid to break it, Joel sits down. You pull up the desk chair and take a piece of charcoal and a paper, propping it on your lap with a sheet of cardboard under.
"You're not going to continue with the half-finished picture?" Joel asks, sipping his tea.
"No," you shake your head. "It's not how I want to draw you."
"Waste of paper."
"I'll use it to make more. It's okay."
He grunts, and you hide your smile without knowing why you're even smiling in the first place.
"Turn your head a little towards the fireplace," you instruct, and Joel squares his shoulders, as if he's unhappy about being told what to do. However, he does as he's asked, and follows the rest of your directions easily. When you're happy with his angles, you put coal to paper, and start to sketch.
For a long time, the only sound heard is that of the fire, and the soft scratch of the coal against the coarse paper. Your sharp eyes note every hair, pore, and line on Joel's face, but you're finding it hard to transfer them to paper. After a long day, your hands are hurting bad, and the pain keeps shifting your focus away from the task at hand. Finally, you sigh deeply and turn the paper upside down.
"I'm done."
"It's finished?" Joel asks, shifting like he's sitting back and leaning forward at the same time. One brow is quirked inquisitively, while his tight jawline lets you know that he doesn't really want to see the result - but he's curious.
"No," you specify as you get up, "it's not finished. I have to start over, but it's getting late."
Your fingers can barely let go of the coal when you set it down together with the paper. You hide your knuckle in the palm of your other hand and rub it discreetly.
"You won't show me?" Joel rises from the armchair and comes up to you, putting away the cup of tea. Standing right in front of you he seems almost impossibly broad.
"Your hands hurtin'?" he asks in a low voice that vibrates along your spine. You swallow quickly.
"Just need to warm them up, it's okay, I'm used to it."
Your breath gets caught in your throat when he takes both your hands and presses them to his chest. You feel his heart beat quickly against your palm and realize that some of his body heat actually comes from him being just as nervous as you are.
Feebly, you try to pull back your hands.
"I'm getting coal on your shirt..."
"Don't care."
You bite into your lower lip, speechless as if you were fourteen and standing in front of your crush, instead of a middle-aged woman talking to...
Who is Joel to you, anyway?
"Why are you doing this?" you ask hoarsely. Joel frowns, his hands slowly letting go of yours. You keep your palms on his chest for a second longer before letting go. Bereft of the warmth, your joints feel even worse.
He doesn't seem to have an answer to give you, but his lips move like he's trying to say something to break the silence. When nothing comes out, you get impatient.
"Joel?" you prompt.
"No one's ever looked at me like you look at me," he lets out, his dark gaze locking in on you. "It's like you're staring right through my clothes. It makes me nervous. I haven't been nervous in... a very long time."
"Nervous how?" you hear yourself ask, even if your armpits have grown damp, and your heart is beating so hard he surely must hear it.
"Nervous in that way." You hear exactly what he means, all the possibilities and threats and risks summarized in that. There's something so awkwardly boyish in it that you find yourself smiling. His frown deepens when he sees it, but his lips soften.
"Joel," you ask, softly touching your aching hand to his, "do you want to kiss me?"
He immediately grabs your wrist and touches his lips to yours in a kiss that doesn't really know what it's supposed to do but wants to do it anyway. He forgot to draw breath, and instead of inhaling against your skin, he pulls back quickly when he has to breathe.
"Fuck," he mutters, "that was a shitty kiss. I'm sorry."
Your cheeks flush violently when you pull at his hand.
"You can try again?"
The offer makes him smile, finally, and he displays that dimple that you found absolutely impossible to put to paper. His closes his hand around the back of your neck, and his lips press onto yours, and he remembers how it's done, and kisses you until you're not sure your legs will carry you anymore.
///
The picture of Joel becomes secondary to your meetings. Joel, you realize very soon, courts you, like some southern Gone With the Wind-type of gentleman. He brings you whatever materials he can find when he goes on patrol - you're excused from that task due to your horse allergy - and quietly offers you his thick gloves when you're out walking together, and your hands hurt. He continues to not talk much, but you start to recognize the little things: acts of service, the way he looks out for you, how his eyes light up when he sees you. His kisses when you part.
There is only kissing. He hasn't touched you in any other way, and you haven't taken initiative to anything further. There is only a rather chaste, yet warm, kiss when he leaves your house, where you usually meet up. He drinks tea and watches you draw, or paint when you're not asking him to pose for you. You know exactly how you want to capture him but so far, your hands haven't been skilled enough, and for every hour you spend with Joel, you lay another piece of the puzzle that is Joel, and you become unsure of how to draw him.
One evening, a couple of months after that first kiss, you're enjoying the warm fire in your living-room when there is a knock on the door. Joel stands on your porch, eyes scanning you quickly as soon as you open the door.
"You weren't at the movies," he says, referring to the event that nearly everyone in Jackson went to tonight. You hear the question in the statement: Are you okay?
"It's cold," you shrug. "Not my thing. Wanna come in?"
He enters your house, and you take his coat and hang it by the door.
"How are the hands?" he asks. You rub your palms together.
"Not bad today, actually. How's your knees?"
He grins a little, knowing that you saw him carry furniture up porch steps earlier.
"Creaky, but they still carry me."
"Tea?"
"I don't want to disturb, if you wanted to be alone."
You lead the way into the living-room, and move some things away from one armchair, pulling it closer to the fireplace, next to the one you were sitting in.
"You're not disturbing, do sit down. I could work some more on your portrait."
Busying yourself with picking at pieces of charcoal, you don't pay him any attention until his footsteps bring him right behind you. One warm hand touches your waist gently, startling you into turning around to meet his sheepish face.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."
"It's okay." His warm body is so close to yours, and his smell of wood, sweat, and snow invades your nose. You inhale deeply, pretending to sigh just to get the opportunity to soak in this intoxicating, masculine smell of his.
"I got something for you." Joel holds up something wrapped in cloth, and it takes you a few moments to gather yourself.
"For me?" Carefully, you take the little package from him. "Whatever for?"
He shrugs. “Thought you might need it. It’s probably your birthday at some point, or Christmas, or whatever.”
You never were good at receiving gifts, and it's even harder now. When was the last time you even got one?
He shifts his weight; a show of nerves that doesn't match up with his calm, deep voice. You decide to put him out of his misery and unfold the cloth.
It's four paintbrushes, hand carved with thick, curved handles, and tidily shaped heads.
"Oh. Joel, these are... these are gorgeous."
You hear him exhale, like he had been holding his breath.
"You think they're any good?"
"I'm sure they are, the hairs look amazing. Where did you get these?"
"I made them."
Now you tear your eyes from the brushes. "You made them?"
"Carved them, they should be comfortable to hold, I asked the doc what's suitable for someone with arthritis... The hairs are horsehair, bound together with sheep hairs."
He has really listened to you talking about all the art supplies you miss, and your ideas of making your own.
"The hairs are washed, so hopefully they won't give you allergies," he adds quickly.
"Joel... thank you. I don't know what to say."
He chuckles a little. "Try them first. What I know about making paintbrushes can fit onto the head of a nail. You may wanna return them."
"Unlikely."
You lean forward, the brushes still in your hands between the two of you, and touch your lips to Joel's. His hands rise to gently cup your elbows as he accepts your kiss. Only when your lips grow more insistent, does his hold tighten as well, and all you can think of is him holding your tits in the same manner.
Your hands, still holding the brushes, come to his chest, and you start undoing the buttons of his flannel. Joel's lips leave yours, and when he looks at you with eyes steeped in hot molten lava, you know that it didn't come easily.
"What are you doin'?"
"What does it look like?" you smile a little shakily. Is this the beginning of a refusal? Have you misunderstood his interest in you altogether?
"I don't want you to do it just because I gave you somethin'."
"It's not because you gave me something, it's because you never took anything away."
He cups your cheek now, strokes his big thumb over your lips.
"You're beautiful. I haven't done this in a long time, and never with anyone as beautiful."
"How old do you think I am?" you laugh, amused and touched at the same time. His ever-present frown changes slightly, turning quizzical.
"I don't need to hear that I'm beautiful," you specify, hands still on his chest. "I don't care about that."
"Then what do you wanna hear?" His voice is impossibly low. Your pussy clenches, grows moist and hot.
"I want to hear you want me."
"Oh, darlin'..." he sighs, closing his eyes momentarily. "I want you like crazy. I have wanted you for a long time, but I wanted for you to decide when you'd have me."
You didn't know how much you had longed for someone who saw you as a sexual being, a woman with desires and a will of her own.
"Joel," you whisper, and he swallows the rest of your words when he crashes his lips to yours. The brushes fall from your hand when you throw your arms around his neck to bring him closer, and Joel's big arms go around your waist. He hums into your mouth when your entire front is pressed against him; a satisfied hum, like he's happy to have you here. You answer with a hum of your own and feel his lips curve in a smile.
Slowly, his hands begin to know your body, sliding over curves and dips, fingers dipping into flesh, palms caressing over your clothes. Your approach is more direct: you pull at his flannel, wanting it off him.
"There's no hurry," he admonishes you between kisses. "Unless you got somewhere you need t'be?"
You exhale in something in between a scoff and a chuckle.
"In your pants?"
"Bedroom, then?"
"It's warmer in here, where the fire is."
"Hold on."
He releases you, seemingly unwillingly, and disappears into your small bedroom, re-emerging momentarily later with your bedding. You move the armchairs away to allow for him to put everything down in front of the fireplace. Groaning, he lays down on the makeshift bed, taking your hand and pulling you down next to him. You giggle a little as you plop down, immediately receiving more kisses.
"This better?" he wants to know. Your skin knots over when his hand finds its way underneath your shirt.
"Much better."
He rolls half on top of you, hand finding your breast for a light squeeze as his knee pushes between your thighs to separate them. His cock is stiff against your hip, and you move against it, smiling into the kiss when he grunts and grabs your breast harder. You put your hand on his, pressing it down, feeling his hand disappear into your soft flesh almost painfully. Your moan gears him up, and he starts to pull your shirt upwards. Squirming out of it, you reach for his belt, huffing in annoyance when Joel sits up to take his own shirt off. You sit up as well for a better reach, and your forehead connects with his chin just as he dives back to you.
"Ouch!"
"Fuck!"
You smile sheepishly at each other, both of you more startled than hurt, and Joel gently pushes you back down.
"Maybe we should take it slow?"
"I need you, I'm done waiting."
"I know, sweetheart, but I don't want you to break my jaw."
You scoff, but his kisses make you docile. Your clothes come off, along with his, and when you're both finally naked, skin against skin, you discover that you're happy with going slow as well. In the light of the fire, you trace your hand along his strong muscles and soft flesh, kiss his scars from past struggles, and the newer bruises from recent altercations with logs or whatever he has attempted to lift on his own. You close your fingers around the girth of his cock - Jesus, 20-year-old you would've giggled like a maniac at the sight of it - and enjoy the sounds of surrender that you can conjure out of him.
"God, your hands feel good on me," he hisses as you slowly, while trying to remember how to do this, stroke him with both hands. You smile, suddenly struck with nerves, when you pass your thumb softly over the glistening head of his thick cock. The precum catches the flickering light from the fire, and you get lost in how light and shadow play over Joel's skin; the dark dip of his navel, the hills of his soft pecs and stomach illuminated, his cock rising proudly from a thicket of dark hairs towards the light, the fuzz of his thighs. The embossed skin of a scar reflecting the warm light. The way his skin rises in goosebumps at your touch...
"Darlin'?"
You blink, and meet his wry, amused smirk.
"You with me?"
"Yeah, sorry. I just... was looking at the light."
"How you'd paint it?" Joel seems to catch on immediately, having listened to you rambling on about The Light several evenings. Yod nod and run one finger along the length of his cock before continuing up his happy trail, swerving around his navel.
"There's so much to see on the human body, if one just knows how to look."
"Lemme try that."
Joel pulls you down and rolls you onto your back, propping himself up on one arm next to you. You blush a little as he inspects you, his hand following the dancing shadows on your chest and stomach.
"Yeah," he murmurs, "I can see it alright."
"Yeah?"
"M-hmm. Hold on."
He rolls to the other side, looking in the dusky room for something. When he returns to your side, he's holding one of the brushes he made. With a feathery touch, he touches the brush to your ribcage, right underneath one breast.
"Here's light," he mumbles, carefully tracing the brush along a rib. "Right next to the shadow of your breast."
You exhale in a soft moan as his knuckles brush up against your breast, knotting the nipple. Joel's tongue slips out to lick his lower lip before he goes on tracing the lines that only he can see on your skin.
"What are you painting, Picasso?" you ask hoarsely.
"Hush," Joel tells you curtly yet not unkindly. You smile and close your eyes, shifting a little so that you can drape your arm around his shoulder. His hot breath is on your breast, his whiskers tickle you before something warm and wet disturbing your nipple tells you he's licked it. A shiver runs through you, and you push your chest out, asking him wordlessly to do it again.
He latches on and suckles steadily, but your shout of surprised pleasure has barely died down before he releases you and continues down your stomach with the brush.
"Joel," you whine, blinking up at him, but the focus in his eyes is so intense that you don't say anything more. Instead, you watch him figure out the fundamentals of visual art: how the light changes everything, how to handle the brush, how to angle the hand. His brush may not have any paint on it, but he paints your pleasure with sounds from you: gasps, hums, a hiss when he passes over a ticklish spot. With the brush trailing through the thicket of your pubes, your legs fall open and your lower lip catches between your teeth. Your pelvis rises to meet the soft hairs, and you moan when Joel dips the brush through your slick folds. He moves the brush to your nipple, circles it to wetten it with your arousal, then ducks down to suck it into his mouth. Your back arches, your inner thighs are wet, your heartbeats echo in your pussy, and you need him to understand just how desperately you need him.
"Fuck me," you keen, "Joel, I need you to fuck me."
He hesitates, coming up to slot his mouth over yours and steal your breath away. You rub yourself against him, find his cock and tease it, make him moan just as needily as you.
"I take it you ain't a pregnancy risk?" You hear from his tight voice how close he is to snapping. Fuck, but that's hot.
"STDs are our only concern," you try to joke, but it's not funny. Before coming to Jackson, you spent years in a quarantine zone as a nurse, and the common sexually transmitted infections ran rampant. Without proper testing equipment, it was hard to tell the scale of it.
"I should be clean," he tells you, and you're too far gone to doubt him.
"Me too."
He kisses you again as he rolls on top of you, his width and weight blocking out everything else as he plunges his tongue into your mouth. Your hips rise to meet him when he leads his cock against your entrance, and you almost bite him when he starts to push into you. Your nails press into his shoulders, the fit is impossible, and Joel stops.
"Fuck," he mutters. "You okay?"
"It's big, it's been a while."
He growls and pulls out, cupping your cheek when you whine.
"Don't wanna hurt you."
"Just get me wet, Joel."
"You're plenty wet already."
"And you're hung like a goddamn moose, so get me wetter," you snap, and Joel chuckles.
"Relax, darlin'."
"I'm trying."
He kisses you again, hand between your legs, two fingers slipping through your folds and drawing out the slick to a slow circle around your clit. Sparks run up your spine and you bury your fingers in his thick, greying hair.
"You always try to cram it in before finding a girl's clit?" you mutter, but your smile shines through. Joel slips a finger inside you.
"I told you, it's been a while." He trails kisses down your neck and moves his finger inside you, seeking the right, spongy spot. You mewl and writhe, needing more but not getting it. One finger is not enough. An idea forms in your head.
"Take the brush," you ask him breathlessly. Joel stills, finger slipping out as he studies your face. You roll your eyes.
"It's not a commentary on your skills. Get over yourself."
"You were the one who were in such a such a hurry a minute ago," he teases before looking around for the brush. Finding it, he brings it to your tits, but you shake your head.
"No, use it on me."
His brow rises quizzically. You push his hand down.
"Fuck me with it, Joel."
You expect an objection, or at the very least surprise, but all you get is a strangled sound and a searing kiss. The handle, so smoothly polished, is thick and curved in a way that bears resemblance to a dildo - not that you've used one in twenty years, but the thought is there now and you have to try this out.
The handle slides in easily, filling you better than his finger but without the intensity of his cock.
"Fuck," you keen, directing your hand down to rub your clit as Joel slowly pulls out the handle before pushing it back in. "There, fuck, Joel, that's good..."
He's breathing audibly now but you don't look at him anymore, you close your eyes and let him help you find all those buttons and spots that you had almost forgotten that you had anymore. When your toes start to curl, and you moan "Faster, Joel, faster!" he complies, rough whiskers scratching the sensitive skin of your tits as he fucks you with the paintbrush that he carved with his own split-knuckle hands to spare you your aching ones.
You barely know what an orgasm feels like anymore, but there's no mistaking this one. The rise and the tightening of muscles, the holding of breath before releasing it in a choked moan, the loosening of limbs, the pounding heat of your pussy.
"Jesus, but that's beautiful," Joel sighs, gently sliding out the brush and putting it to the side before kissing your flushed forehead. "Darlin', you're killin' me."
You chuckle huskily and pass your hands over your face.
"I think it takes a lot more to kill you, Joel Miller."
"I wouldn't bet on it."
The bedding underneath you may keep the draft of the floor at bay, but offers no suspension, so when he edges into you a second time and bottoms out, it's like being split in two between a rock and a hard place. But you can take him, and you cling to his broad shoulders with breaths coming out as hissing.
"Relax," he murmurs, petting your hair as if you were a skittish animal while slowly moving in you. "Sweetheart, you can take it, you're doing it already, you're doing it so well, it feels so good..."
You keen as he spears you again, slowly but steadily, his muscles trembling from the effort of keeping himself from crushing you. Your legs wrap around his thighs, arms around his shoulders and you pull him down, you want to be crushed, you need him like this, steady like a train and sharp like a razor, his breathless kisses on your neck, the groans that may come from pleasure or discomfort from being on the floor, you have no idea, but you need him just like this.
"Come, Joel, come," you gasp into his ear, the good one, and he endures, unwavering in his effort as he digs into you, deep, thorough, devastating.
His climax is a relief and a sadness. You don't want it to end, but you also couldn't bear one more second of it.
Joel slumps to the side, gathering you into his arms as he draws a deep, shaky breath. In the faint light of the embers that are left in the fireplace, you trace the scar on his right cheek and watch his eyelids press shut more firmly before he turns his head to kiss your fingers.
The temperature in the room seems to drop as the heat dies down, and you carefully untangle yourself from Joel's firm hold to put another log on the embers. When it flares up, you return to Joel's side, now finding him watching you.
"You okay?" he asks when you pull a blanket over both of you. Making yourself comfortable, you nod with a little smile and a kiss to his lips.
"Perfect."
"That thing with the brush was... interesting."
You blush. "I don't know what happened."
"Glad it did."
"Joel, I... haven't had sex like that... at all... in decades," you blurt out. "And this was... perfect."
He hums, glances down, and to you it's glaringly obvious that he is conflicted. Your heart sinks just as he speaks up.
"It really was perfect."
"But?" You can't help yourself: there's a slight edge to your tone. Joel leans his head back a little to take a good look at you, the usual disapproving frown back on his face.
"But there was someone," he starts, "for years. And we never had this. Time and place wasn't right."
You exhale in relief. History and baggage are easy to deal with, rejection is not.
"I'm sorry."
He shrugs with a little sound, forehead smoothed out.
"Was she... Ellie's mom?" you dare. Joel shakes his head, and his hand slowly passes over your back, fingers strumming the bump of your spine.
"I didn't know Ellie until a few months ago. This was... someone else. A partner. She took Ellie on, really. I was against it. And she... didn't make it."
You don't want to say that you're sorry again, but don't know what else to say, either. So you kiss him, because you want to, because you think he needs it, because there are no words. Your hand is splayed open on his cheek, his lips and mouth are dry and so are yours, but the kiss is sweet and gentle, and the things you can't find words for are carefully passed on to him. He exhales in a soft sigh onto your cheek, then tilts his chin up to kiss your forehead before burrowing his nose against your hair. It's clear to you that he wants to sleep, but you're buzzing with unexpected energy. Carefully, you slide away from his arms, smiling at his frown, and get up to tip-toe to the desk, where you pick up paper and coal. A faint blush colors your cheekbones when you feel his cum seep out of you, and you hurry back to the makeshift bed, sitting down by Joel's feet.
"C'mere," he barks, but you shake your head.
"Just stay still."
He complies with that frown of his, and you settle down, putting the piece of coal to the paper.
You know how you want to draw him now.
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