#adding a link to this in the notes of the fic somewhere!!!

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 1 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 7k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: this work has been quite a while in the making and im very excited to finally share the first chapter! a huge thank you to the wonderful josie for being my beta reader and listening to all my rambling <3

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 1 - The Before

‘‘I will be very sad to leave here’, Yves said, suddenly. ‘I have never been happier than I have been in this house.’ ‘I have been very happy too. I wonder if we will ever be so happy again.’’  - Another Country, James Baldwin

You’d been on the run for what felt like weeks but could only have been days when you found the gas station next to an abandoned mall. It had looked promising, the half-rotten advertisements plastered to the walls, reminding your stomach that it had gone far too long without a proper meal, or any meal for that matter.

Maybe if you hadn’t been so starved or so tired, you would’ve heard them coming, the Infected that stormed through the back door practically the moment you slipped into the building. A yell escaped your throat, your hand instinctively reaching for the knife you kept buckled to your leg. You didn't even get the chance to pull it out of its makeshift holster before the creature was on top of you, pinning you to the floor with what felt like inhuman strength.

“Fucking- get off-” you grunted, but even if the thing on top of you had been one that listened to commands, your thin and shaky voice likely wouldn’t have impressed it.

So this was how you were gonna go out. In a town you couldn't even name, somewhere in the snowy mountains of Wyoming, after finally escaping the life you’d been stuck in for so long. You hadn't even made it a month.

For a second, you considered trying to reach for your gun, still tucked into your pants and pressing into your back uncomfortably. You could feel its outline against your skin, a pain shooting through your spine as the Infected seemed to double its effort to reach your neck with its mouth, half-rotten teeth close enough that you could recognize the foul smell of death.

Then, the gun went off. Or you thought it did. The unmistakable sound of a gunshot rang in your ears as the Infected collapsed on top of you. But the feeling of your pistol pressing into your back was still there. It had been a gun. But not yours.

“I got her!” a voice above you bellowed out, an unmistakable southern drawl. “Tommy, give me some cover here, goddammit!”

You hadn't even noticed the second man, who was now aiming his gun at another runner storming towards him. He fired, once, twice, and the Infected let out a howl before its body hit the tiled floor with a thud.

“Hey, you with me?” The man above you leaned down, shoving the Infected that had been on top of you to the side unceremoniously. He was dressed in a worn jacket, jeans and boots, the latter two splattered with blood. His right hand, covered in a weathered leather glove, was stretched out towards you, an invitation to, well, you weren't exactly sure.

“She good?”

The second man approached the pair of you, your eyes flying over to him for a split moment. He was dressed similarly, except that he looked a little younger than his partner. He shouldered his rifle and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Your gaze flew back to the man in front of you, to the brown eyes that carried an unexpectedly gentle look, not quite matching the gruff way he looked. Shaking slightly, you placed your hand in his, and the next moment, he was pulling you to your feet.

“There you are.”

You nodded, a motion that looked more like your head was jerking on its own accord. But the man seemed to accept it. As the other one stepped towards you, the taller of the two men spoke again.

“You clean?” When no response came, he pressed on, his tone getting a little more impatient. “Did it bite you? Scratch you anywhere?”

The other one gently placed a hand on his chest, forcing your attention onto himself. “Can you walk? Our horses are two houses over, we've got a place where you can rest, get some food-”

“I'm not going anywhere with you,” you blurted out. You'd had your fair share of people, of men offering you ‘help’ and it never stopped there. There was payment, always. In this world, it was stupid to think there wouldn't be, that anyone would help you out of the kindness of their hearts.

“You're not going anywhere else by the looks of it, either,” the man with the gloves muttered, more than loud enough for you to hear. “You won't last a week.”

“I've lasted longer, asshole,” you shot back, suddenly angry at the stranger in front of you. He didn't know you, he didn't know the things you'd gone through to get here. So what if he had saved your life? It didn't give him the right to predict your death.

The other man nudged his ribs, extending his hand to you as well, though it was more of a formality this time. 

“Name’s Tommy. The asshole is my brother Joel.”

He paused for a moment, clearly thinking about how to approach this the right way. “Look, I'm sure you've been traveling for quite some time. We can give you a place to recover. You can leave anytime, I promise.”

You eyed him carefully. It did sound too good to be true. But it also did sound- good. A roof over your head, warm food in your stomach- two things you'd been craving for quite some time.

“Okay.”

The man who had introduced himself as Tommy gave a short nod and led the way to the horses, following tracks in the snow the two men had left while coming to your rescue. Joel pulled up the rear and you had a feeling that his eyes were trained on you, watching carefully, maybe for a twitch or anything else out of the ordinary. Again, you weren't sure why, but it made you angry.

“I told you I wasn't bit,” you repeated in his direction as Tommy began untying the horses. 

Joel raised a brow, clearly surprised by the attitude in your voice. “‘ts what they usually say.”

“Well, I'm not,” you replied, turning your back on him and focusing on his brother instead. Tommy pretended not to have heard either of you but somehow you were certain he had.

“C’mon, you can ride with me. It's not too far.”

Not too far turned out to be a good hour, the crisp autumn air making you shiver, and you were thankful for the warmth of both the horse and Tommy. But what the ride lacked in temperature it made up for in views, the sun coming out just as you passed the first sign that read ‘Jackson County’.

You didn't even mind Joel's occasional glances towards you as much, finding that with the sunlight playing in his brown curls, his look screamed less of danger and more of concern. Whether it was concern for Tommy or you or something entirely different, you weren't sure.

The answer came to you in the form of your housing arrangements. After getting over the first shock of riding up a busy mainstreet in what looked like an actual, functioning town, a thing you hadn't thought possible anymore, you had made use of what must have been the first functioning toilet you'd seen in months. You felt like a child being steered through the crowd at a busy carnival, if the food hall, the functioning plumbing and electricity and the music drifting from one of the smaller shops was any indication.

“You know we ain't got any unoccupied places and Maria and mine’s no good with the baby screaming all night,” Tommy muttered urgently and you frowned a little. The two men were standing a few feet away, clearly unaware that you were already back and you awkwardly shoved your hands in your pockets, considering going back inside for a moment. But then Joel opened his mouth and you couldn't help but listen in on their conversation. The older man seemed as much a mystery as the entire scene around you.

Tommy piped up before Joel even had a chance to argue. “It's just for a couple of nights. I’m sure Ellie and you will manage. You take her in, explain the basics and as soon as we got a place, you can go back to shutting yourself off from every goddamn person in this town-”

“I don’t-” Joel interrupted before shaking his head, a low grunt leaving his throat.

“Fine. Until Thursday, no longe-” He broke off at the look on Tommys face, one that was aimed directly at you. You shyly nodded in his direction and closed the distance between you in a few quick steps. 

The younger man cleared his throat, giving you a reassuring smile. “Find everything okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you replied politely. You hated how forced the conversation felt, already regretting listening in on it at all.

“Joel here’s gonna get you settled for the night, you let him know if you need anything else. I'll stop by in the morning and introduce you to Maria, she’s-”

“The boss,” Joel finished for him, earning a small glare from Tommy. 

“One of our elected leaders,” he corrected, another smile playing around his lips at the mention of what you assumed must be his wife. “Well, I'll leave ya two to it.”

Joel took you home. He still gave you that look, and with Tommy gone, you could be sure that it was actually aimed towards you. It was like he was still on guard but whether it was of you or something else, you couldn't tell.

“Here's how this is gonna go,” he started as he fumbled with the front door of the house clad in white. “You get a quick check-up, a shower, some fresh clothes- you get the idea.”

“I get the idea,” you repeated as he led you into the hallway, unable to keep yourself from glancing around for a moment, catching a peek of the dining room. “You live here by yourself?”

“Why?”

His question hit you out of nowhere and you stuttered for a moment, racking your brain for a good response, “Just- I was making conversation. Jesus.”

“Right,” Joel nodded, his gaze softening a bit. He placed his bag onto the floor and tapped his right thigh absent-mindedly. “Come on, follow me.”

He took you into the upstairs bathroom that smelled faintly of soap, reminding you that you hadn't had a proper wash in more days than you cared to count. There were a few small containers, mostly re-used mason jars, that were labeled ‘shampoo’ or ‘body wash’, sitting orderly on the small shelf next to the tub.

You felt more than heard Joel shift behind you and turned to meet his gaze. He was still watching, arms crossed, seemingly waiting for something.

“Do I- shower?” you asked softly and he sighed a little at that. 

“I need to check you for bites.” His voice was low but still carried a small note of sternness in it. 

Oh, right.

“I didn't agree to that.”

You could see his hand twitch, the handle of his revolver still sticking out the back of his jeans. “You're bit.”

It was more of a statement than anything else, like he already knew what was waiting for him under your clothes, maybe a bite on your leg, a scratch on your stomach. Joel had dealt with enough people that had been marked for death like that to know the signs of it. The thing was, he was wrong.

“Is this what it is?” you asked, quietly, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Excuse me?”

“Is that why you go outside, save people? So you can bring them back here, get them to take their clothes off for you-”

“Whoa-” Joel held up both hands, shaking his head very slowly. “I think we got off on the wrong foot here. I need to check you for bites, it’s protocol.” His voice was still deep, that southern drawl you heard earlier in the gas station still present but somehow softer. His features had shifted, seeming genuinely surprised by the turn of your conversation.

“Now, if you want someone else to do it, I can get a lady and let her look you over. We just want to be sure we don’t bring Infected in, that's all.”

“That's all?” you asked as he kept his eyes trained on you, his hands still up in the air and his expression soft.

“I swear, that's all. If you can show me you're not bit, I'll get you that shower, some food, you name it.”

You gave a small nod at that, your body deflating a little. It had been an incredibly long day and the man in front of you seemed genuine. If he wasn't, you could still try and bail.

Joel turned slightly under the pretense of grabbing a towel from below the sink but you knew he was attempting to give you a bit of privacy- even though he clearly didn’t trust you enough to fully turn his back on you. With shaky hands, you began to strip, holding back a wince as you forced your bruised body to move. The fabric of your shirt clung to your skin, dry blood forcing another whimper out of your throat.

You felt Joel's head snap towards you at that but ignored him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of showing quite how uncomfortable you felt about going through this with him next to you.

He was quick and professional, his large hands brushing over your skin as he made sure you were clean.

“All good,” he commented shortly when he was satisfied, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he reached for a stack of folded towels. Then, his gaze rested on your head again, more specifically, on your matted hair.

“You want me to get someone to cut that for you? Might be easier than-”

“No,” you quickly piped up. You knew your body was malnourished and likely had a dozen other things wrong with it. You didn’t want to lose your hair too.

Joel nodded, his hand absent-mindedly trailing over a particularly nasty knot. “I think I got some soap conditioner in the closet. You want to give that a try?” 

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you responded curtly and Joel disappeared from the room for a few moments. He came back, as promised, with a soap smelling of jasmine and cotton. 

He didn’t seem as hesitant, now that he knew you weren’t bit. At least that’s what you assumed had caused the shift in him. It didn’t occur to you that it might be the fact that you were sitting on his bathroom tiles, shivering, assuming the worst in him, in men, hell, in society. That you looked like a wounded deer, ready to take off at the slightest notion of danger, no matter how badly you were already bleeding.

Joel was a lot more gentle than you would have expected a man of his build to be. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, reaching just far enough to cover your entire hair, but never letting any conditioner run down onto your face. It made you wonder if he was a father. Then you remembered his brother had mentioned a girl earlier, Ellie. Still, you knew better than to ask. You’d likely be gone in a few days anyway.

But, there was one question that you couldn’t keep from slipping out of your mouth.

“Why did you think I was bit?”

Joel paused for a moment, his fingers slowing down ever so slightly as he seemed to think about his words.

“You weren’t fighting hard enough. To stay alive, I mean. You were acting like someone who knows that their time is up.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you. You felt his hand brush over the crown of your head, lathering the matted mess that was your hair with soap in small, circular motions.

“I thought it was,” you whispered, honestly. You couldn't bring yourself to lie to him. But you couldn't bring yourself to explain it either.

He didn’t ask.

Neither of you spoke again until you were curled up in his bed, him insisting to take the couch for the night. He’d fed you some soup, relieved when he saw that your stomach could handle that. He’d warned you that it might not, after getting so used to going days without food. You’d gotten some worn but warm clothes to wear after the shower and now your body was sinking into an actual mattress. It was more than you’d dreamed of just that morning.

Joel paused in the doorway, his hand tapping against his jeans, a habit you had already picked up on. It was like he didn’t know what to do with his hands when they weren’t holding a gun.

“You don’t have to leave,” he said quietly. “You know that, right?”

Your mouth went dry as you tried to keep your tone nonchalant. His expression told you that it wasn't exactly working. “Who said I was leaving?”

“You look like you will.”

Again, a quiet fell over you and you shook your head softly. “What, you were a psychologist before or something?”

He smiled weakly. “Contractor.”

After a short pause, he went on. “I know it's hard to- to trust. When ya first get here. I felt the same.” 

You felt a small breath leave your throat at that. “But it gets better?”

“There's hot water, three meals a day, fair working conditions. I don't think it gets much better out there,” he pointed out softly before giving you a small nod.

“I'll be downstairs if you need anything. Good night.”

27 months later

The almost-empty soap sits on your bathroom shelf, the one that’s screwed to the wall just above the worn-out bathtub. You’ve gotten it refilled every few months, sometimes sooner if you wanted to allow yourself a little treat. It still reminds you of your first day in Jackson, of the safety that you so quickly felt in every room of Joel's house.

You still have some time before you have to head to work and the blue sky promises a cold but clear day so you decided to go and check if you’re in luck with any available refills today. Stock always changes throughout the week and while there’s usually something available, you prefer to get your chosen products if possible.

No such luck.

“Sorry, we’re all out. Think patrols cleared out the store that had these a while ago,” the woman behind the counter says apologetically. “We have some others if you’d like to try a new one, there’s-”

“I’m good,” you quickly insist, giving her a small smile when you notice you may have sounded a little harsh. “I’ll just wait and see if some more comes in.”

In one quick motion, you turn around and head towards the door- only to run face-first into a broad chest draped in a thick, brown coat.

“Whoa.” The deep voice above you immediately sends a gentle warmth through your body and you take a small step back to be able to squint up at the man you bumped into.

“Sorry, Texas, didn't see you there.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Joel mutters weakly, fumbling with the small bag he is carrying before handing it over to the woman behind the counter. She thanks him and quickly begins to sort the items he has brought back from patrol. He’s wearing the thick coat you see on him whenever it drops below freezing, his dark boots leaving small pieces of wet mud on the floor of the small store. He’s been doing the creek trails then, most likely.

You’ve rarely been on patrol yourself, focusing your energy more on tasks inside the community. If it hadn’t been for Joel, you know you probably would have taken off in the first few days, maybe stolen some food and been on your way. But he’d gotten you to stay. With him, for a few days. Then they had found space for you in a small guesthouse close to the mainstreet, to be shared with a young woman not unlike yourself that had offered up her vacant bedroom.

You’d taken an instant liking to Lane. Joel had dropped you off at your new home, with the few things you owned, and you and her had both stood in the small kitchen in awkward silence, racking your brains for a good conversation starter. Of course, you’d come up with the one she probably heard every other day.

“I like your hair.”

It wasn’t a lie. Her hair was cut short but thick, and most importantly, it was blue. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen colored hair. It seemed to fit her though. The roots were brown and the overall color a little less vibrant than you’d seen in magazines of people before the outbreak. If anything, you liked this more.

“Thanks,” she said lamely, twisting her hand around the small cup she was holding. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m the worst at social shit,” she finally blurted out and it looked like she was half glad to admit it and half afraid of your reaction.

“Don’t worry. Me too,” you admitted, a grin spreading over both your faces, the silence seeming a lot more bearable now. She shrugged towards the counter, half a dozen muffins sitting on it. “You like blueberries? A friend let me nick these.”

She paused for a moment, brushing a strand of blue hair behind her ear. “I mean, technically they’re not real blueberries, the ground here is too dry for those. I think they’re called juneberries, but we never call them that.”

You figured she’d be a solid roommate if she’d just met you and was already sharing her sweets. Half an hour later, when you had vomited the blueberry muffins back up in your shared bathroom, Joel’s warning about solid food still ringing in your ears, when she was standing beside you, holding your hair back and handing you a washcloth when you were finished, you knew she’d be more than a roommate. She’d be your friend.

She had also been the one to get you into teaching. You’d been fascinated when she first told you about her job in town, teaching the children of Jackson practically every subject she could. Neither of you had been in school before the outbreak so it was all the more impressive, the way she managed to control a class without the need to get loud or hand out punishments.

You’d taken a liking to the classrooms of Jackson as well, reminiscing on the last summer before the world had gone to shit and the way you’d looked forward to being in school, learning all the things big girls did. Not getting to sit in a classroom, and you didn’t count those at FEDRA as actual classrooms, had been only one of so many things you felt you had missed out on.

So it felt even more special now when, after you got Maria to assign you as teacher alongside Lane, you spent your days in the colorfully decorated classrooms, teaching a variety of subjects and a variety of ages. It was similar to life in Jackson, not without its fair amount of challenges. But, just as Joel had promised the first night, you learned to trust and the more you did, the easier it was to let yourself be. Above all, to let yourself be happy.

Joel steps outside alongside you, his head jerking back towards the small supply store. “Did ya get everything?”

His voice is soft, and you like to imagine that he sounds a little more gentle when speaking to you compared to the others. Not that you see him talking to a lot of people either way. You're pretty sure it's why he prefers the patrols, less people to bother him and less voices to listen to. Even though you had a feeling, about a year after you arrived in Jackson, that he also preferred being paired up with Esther, a pretty woman who took care of the horses and frequented the patrols. Especially those with Joel.

You had almost hoped for them to end up together, to drive the images of Joel alone at his too large dining table out of your head. But they didn't and the images stayed. You had him over for dinner, every other month. It started as a thank-you for helping you through your first days and quickly developed into a rare but regular thing. Ellie or Lane joined you occasionally, happy to get a nice home-cooked dinner and some of the wine Joel usually brought along.

You didn't see too much of him outside of your little gatherings, only the normal occasions that presented themself around town. But it was nice to know that he was there, that he would bring his wine and compliment your cooking and make small-talk and listen to the new developments of your life.

“It makes sense for you to be a teacher,” he’d agreed after you’d updated him on your new position, causing you to raise a brow. 

“What is that supposed to mean? Think I can’t handle myself out on the group patrols?”

His face slowly changed at that, Joel urgently shaking his head, “I didn't mean-”

You cut him off with a small laugh, no longer able to stay serious at how panicked he looked. “I’m messing with you, old man. I know what you meant. I think it makes sense too. I like it.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he leaned back against the kitchen counter, grumbling a little under his breath.

It's Joel's voice that brings you back to the present. “I asked if you got everything?”

You shake your head to get rid of the thoughts, then it turns to shaking your head no. “They’re out of conditioner. But it’s fine, I can stretch mine a bit longer and maybe they’ll get some next week.”

“Ya still using the same one?” Joel asks, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat and you nod. It's sweet that he remembers. It's been over two years, after all.

“Yeah. Liked it, never saw a reason to switch,” you explain lamely. He only gives a short nod, motioning for you to follow as he starts walking. 

You do, though perplexed. “School’s in the other direction.” “Thought your class didn’t start until ten today,” he points out. It never appears to you to ask how or why he knows this. When your steps slow down and your thoughts speed up simultaneously, he nudges you along.

“You want your soap or not?” he grumbles and your face lights up a little at that. 

“You got some?” 

Joel gives another quick nod. “Brought them back a few weeks ago. I would’ve given them to you if I knew ya still used them.”

You trot beside him like a puppy, making your way down Rancher Street and up the flight of stairs that leads to the small house clad in white. The noise of the wind chimes tied to a beam above his front porch drifts over to you, the gentle breeze creating a slow melody.

You haven’t been in his upstairs bathroom for years. It’s odd and it feels too intimate, seeing the place where he brushes his teeth in the morning, where he washes himself after a long day. You don't belong in a space this personal. You don't belong to him.

It felt different when you were curled up on the same white tiles, letting him check your bruised and battered body for signs of Infection. For a split moment, it did feel like you belonged, in a way.

Joel's hand brushes over yours as he hands you the soap, the one smelling of jasmine and cotton and safety. 

The rest of the day is a blur of lessons and grading, but the smell of the soap seems to linger, the comforting feeling in your stomach getting you through the work day. It doesn’t end until seven with you staying behind to tutor some kids for an upcoming exam and then to finish preparing said exam. The smell of food fills the air as you open your front door and you smile as you poke your head into the kitchen, “Smells good.”

Lane is seated at the table, a few papers in front of her. Likely an exam of her own, you think to yourself. Even after the world has ended, finals season still exists.

“My mum made that pasta you like so much today. Figured I'd save you some,” she says, nodding towards the tupperware sitting on the counter.

“You're an angel.” You whistle as you head deeper into the house, putting away your jacket and bag, fishing the soap out of the latter and placing it on the bathroom shelf. It makes you pause for a moment. You give a nod to yourself at the sight of the refilled container and make a silent vow to treat yourself to a nice bath today.

An hour later, your stomach is filled with warm pasta, the bathroom damp with steam and your hair soft, smelling just the way you like it. The clock in the small hallway reminds you that it's already past twelve and the knowledge that tomorrow is another day filled with teaching makes you want to crawl into bed fairly quickly. But you're thirsty.

Lane is still in the kitchen, her blue hair a little messy and crowned with a pair of headphones. The music spills out a bit, enough for you to be able to hear the low, steady humming of a song that seems mildly familiar.

You do remember a few songs from before the Outbreak- mainly the ones they played on the radio. But you know that Lane doesn’t, being a few years younger than you, meaning that she barely has any memories of the before.

You're already in your pajamas, shuffling to the sink to pour yourself a glass of water. Somehow it always tastes better at night. Or maybe your brain is playing tricks on you.

“Hey, you remember Joel is coming over for dinner on Sunday, right?” you ask with your back to your friend. When no response comes, you gulp down the last bit of water and turn around, giving a small wave in the air between you. 

Lane sits up a little more, pushing one side of her headphones back just enough to free her ear. “Hm?”

“Dinner with Joel, Sunday,” you repeat, a yawn escaping you. 

After a moment, she nods. “Right, I remember. We’re out of blueberries again, by the way.”

“I’ll make sure to restock this weekend then,” you agree, already halfway across the room. You give another small wave and finally head to bed. It looks exactly the same way you left it this morning, the blanket tucked into one side, the pillows arranged against the headboard.

“It's so good to be home,” you mutter to yourself as you crawl under the covers, stretching your body a little. Your left hand reaches for your nightstand and finds the book you've been reading, hoping to get just a tiny bit further tonight. With all the work and the winter festival coming up, you’ve barely made progress, the wooden bookmark still sitting near the front. You put it aside, glancing down at the finely carved piece of woodwork for a moment. Joel gave it to you for your first birthday in Jackson. Then you open the book properly, the worn-out spine cracking slightly. Just a couple of minutes.

But your eyes start to droop after just a few pages. After half a chapter, you're in a deep slumber, the book slipping out of your hands and onto the wooden floor below just as the front door slips shut.

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[kissatoru]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐘𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍!

🪦 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎 ⭑ to celebrate spooky season and reaching 400+ followers (oh my god?! thank you so much?!), i’ve decided to do a mini halloween smut event !! since i’m starting quite late in the month, the event may be moved further into november if i need more time.

💀 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 ⭑ all fics will be sub!character x dom!reader with a spoooky~ halloween twist! the reader’s anatomy and position (top/bottom) will vary depending on the fic. more content info will be added once the fic has been posted. the tag for this event is #( ★ ) hornyween ‘23.

please remember to read the warnings and, as always, do not interact if you are under 18 !!

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☆ 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 ☆

🩸 OUR LITTLE SECRET ; levi ackerman [ ✓ ]

content. sub!vampire!levi, dom!gn!reader, implied virgin/touch-starved!levi, ooc levi at some points cause of vampire hormones, plot before porn, blood/blood-drinking kink, oral fixation, dry humping, handjob, inappropriate use of cravats, petnames (dearest, darling)

synopsis. in 19th century society, everyone has secrets they want to keep from seeing the light of day — so what will happen when you unveil levi’s?

🦴 BAD DOG ; toji fushiguro [ ✓ ]

content. PORN WITH PLOT YAYY, no curses/modern/alternate magic au, bratty asf sub!toji, mean dom!reader, reader is super strong and beats toji’s ass lol, canon-typical violence, cigarette smoking, outdoor sex, degradation, brat-taming, mild pet play, shoe humping, cock stepping, pain kink, s/m dynamic, handjob, edging, pet (?) names (darling, sweetheart [receiving; condescendingly] + pup, puppy, puppy dog [giving; also condescendingly]), anal fingering, spit and cum as lube, spanking, reader refers to themself as ‘master’ once, morally grey + dubcon ending

synopsis. stories and fables always warn of the big bad wolf, but personally, you think he makes quite a cute pet.

🫀 INSATIABLE ; keigo takami [ ??? ]

content. sub!incubus/succubus!keigo, dom!gn!reader, multiple orgasms, overstimulation + more ...

synopsis. lust demons are known for their hunger, but when one visits you in the night, your appetite turns out to be larger than his.

🪞 PRETTY GIRL ; mitsuri kanroji [ ??? ]

content. sub!mitsuri, soft dom!ghost!gn!reader, modern au, mirror sex, praise kink, cunnilingus + more ...

synopsis. strange paranormal encounters have mitsuri considering moving out — until an encounter unlike the others persuades her to stay.

[turtletaubwrites]

Misty Eyes ~ Part 2

Thank you so much @pinejayyfor this delicious request!!

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past)

Word Count: 3377

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: Law can't trust you yet, so you do everything you can to prove yourself. Will your memories help or hurt you?

Author's Note: I'm really enjoying writing Law in multiple fics, so I can slap different vibes on him like he's trying on different shades of eyeliner 😅

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Donquixote Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Other Additional Tags to be Added, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Do you love me?”

“Of course I do, young master! You–”

“Now, now, Y/N. What did I tell you? You’re my pretty little thing now, so you get to call me Doffy, alright?”

His large hand cupped your face, warming your cheek that was already warm from his attention. 

He’s smiling at me now. I’m special to him. I mean something to him, finally. 

“Well? Are you going to answer my question properly?”

Doffy’s hand traveled down to your neck, long fingers circling your vulnerable flesh as he waited for you to obey him.

“Yes. I love you, Doffy.”

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Y/N?”

Law repeated your name softly until you returned, finding yourself in that metal room, a shrine dedicated to his hatred and rage. 

“I’m sorry to have to ask you this,” Law rasped, dipping his face to meet your eyes. “I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through all these years…”

His brows pinched together when he caught your grimace, and his shoulders slumped. 

Guilt pulled at his features, while you tried to understand which of the emotions inside you were worth focusing on. 

“I shouldn’t have asked you that–”

“I don’t know,” you confessed. Your voice was empty, as if a machine were spilling truths instead of your own lips. 

“I did love him. I know I did,” you continued, staring a hole through Law’s wooden desk. “I’ve been… feeling guilty for a while. Why am I not feeling that anymore?”

Your misty eyes looked up, almost pleading with him for an answer. 

“Loving Doffy is the only thing I’m good at. The only reason he needs me. What use am I–”

“You are worth more than what he takes from you,” he growled, your eyes widening until the mist turned to tears.

Law relaxed his shoulders again, releasing a breath. Those tattooed hands cupped your cheeks, and you sighed as his thumbs wiped away your show of weakness. 

“Y/N,” he soothed, his lips quirking before he continued. He dropped his hands away, and you missed their warmth, especially as those golden eyes hardened again. 

“I don’t want to keep you prisoner, but as much as I'd like to, I can’t trust you yet.”

Nodding, you tried not to shake as fear rolled back over you. 

“I can’t risk this mission. It’s not safe for me to leave you somewhere on your own. But if I let you roam the Polar Tang, interact with my crew… Especially when you can sneak into any room you like–”

“I would never,” you choked out, reaching for one of his hands on the desk. “Please, Law. I won’t betray you, I swear.”

He squeezed your hand in return, but shook his head. 

“I want to believe you, Y/N. But we both know the power he has over people. You might not think you’d betray me now, but he’s been in your head your whole life.”

The weight of loneliness pressed your body down, your hand going limp in his. He squeezed it a few more times until you looked up again. 

“If you're willing to trust me,” he started, his eyes a bit wide, “I have a way to make sure that I can trust you. It won’t hurt–”

“Hurt,” you whispered, wetting your dry lips as you waited for whatever he wanted to do to you.

“I can remove your heart,” he explained, pulling a key from his pocket to unlock the large bottom drawer of his desk. 

With all of the gruesome things you’d seen in your life, you were surprised at the gasp you let out. Law had pulled something from the drawer, holding it up so that you could take a look. 

It was a strange cube, almost glowing with blueish pink light. It looked squishy, and you reached out to touch it before you noticed the steady pulse. It was a beating heart. 

“So that story is true,” you breathed as you watched it in fascination, “you really did steal all of those pirate’s hearts.”

“I did,” he nodded grimly, tucking that heart back into the drawer. “I’ve done a lot of things to prepare for this goal.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? You–”

“Take my heart. It’s not helping me out anyway, it might be good to have a break,” you laughed, trying to cover the hollow sound in your words. 

Law stood, and you followed suit, his powerful voice vibrating through you. 

“Room.”

You watched in awe as he created a blue sphere of light to fill the space before coming toward you with his sword. 

“This is just a precaution,” he explained, his breath going heavy. “I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I'll protect you.”

“I trust you,” you admitted before you held your breath. 

You couldn’t follow all of the emotions that crossed his face, until he drained them all away. He looked at you as if you were just a problem to be solved. A loose end to tie up to make sure his plan would succeed.

His sunny eyes were as cold and distant as the vacuum of space when he held the tip of his blade to your chest.

“Scalpel.”

You couldn’t remember the last time a weapon had hurt you. There was no need to worry about being injured in battle when you hadn’t left the castle in so long. 

Doffy was the only one that could hurt you, besides the sea and its stone.

Nothing could cut through mist. 

Law was so confident in his ability that you hadn’t questioned him. Instead, you tried to cooperate, somehow willing your body to stay solid so he could rip you open. 

But the blade at your chest seemed as weak as your own abilities. 

Until it pierced your flesh.

“You’re okay,” Law assured you as he pressed further, your gasping breaths slowing as you realized there was no pain. 

“Would you like to hold it?”

Such a strange feeling, gazing at your own beating heart. The very core of your being, the thing that keeps you alive. 

Sitting in the palm of your hand like a piece of fruit.

“What happens if I squeeze it?”

“It would hurt very– Y/N, stop!”

Law pulled your heart from your grasp as you fell to your knees. The pain was indescribable, radiating from your chest through your whole body, as if your veins were on fire. Nausea came as the pain burned through you, and you leaned your forehead against his desk as he knelt beside you. 

“Why would you do that,” he questioned, almost scolding you like he would when you were kids. 

“Most things can’t hurt me,” you choked out, tilting your head up to see his grumpy face. “I was just curious.”

He frowned before sitting on the floor beside you, pushing the chair out of his way as he looked you over. 

“How are you feeling, Y/N? Have you been having thoughts of harming yourself?”

“What? No,” you exclaimed, sitting straight as the pain started to fade. “I promise, I just… I don’t know. I’ve never been handed my own fucking heart before. It was like an impulse.”

“You’ll tell me if you start having thoughts like that,” he requested after a pause, making you squirm with embarrassment. 

“I promise, I’m sorry. I was stupid.”

Law helped you to your feet, then gripped your shoulder until you were caught in his serious glare. 

“That was a stupid thing to do, but you are not stupid.”

You scrunched your face up, and sat down, itching to forget everything that happened in the last hour.

“This is just a precaution,” he repeated, locking your heart in that bottom drawer. You tried not to stare as he tucked the key into his pocket, but a sick taste of guilt hit your tongue.

I wouldn't need a key to steal my heart back. I could just mist into the drawer, and absorb it. 

You gulped down the pressure to confess, to tell him to hide it somewhere else. 

I’m not gonna steal it back, but I don’t know him anymore. I should be careful. 

“Now,” Law cleared his throat, picking up his notepad again, “do you know anything about Doflamingo’s dealings with Kaidou?”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell him. Everything just felt blank.

“I don’t… I’m not important enough to know anything,” you explained, the words burning your throat on the way out. “I’m sorry, I probably won’t be able to help much.”

Law sat back in his chair, tapping his pen against his lips while he assessed you.

I’m still fucking useless. 

‘Can’t do anything on your own, huh? Just listen to Doffy, you’ll be the perfect little doll for me, alright?’

“Were you with him a lot?”

“What,” you coughed, your skin flushing to the tips of your ears. 

“No, I– that’s not what I…” Law sighed, shaking his head to clear his own words away. “Did he have you with him throughout the day? During meals, maybe while he took calls or meetings?”

“Oh,” you said softly, noticing yourself going fuzzy again, staring into nothing as you tried to recall.

~🦩🦩🦩~

“I mean no offense, Joker, but shouldn’t we be discussing this in private?”

“Oh, don’t mind her, Caesar,” Doffy laughed, rubbing his hand over your back as you lounged in his lap. “She can’t do any harm.”

The scientist frowned at you for a moment. You couldn’t tell if he was wearing makeup, or if his skin really was that pale, his lips almost purple. He met your eyes before shifting his own away from you, and away from Doffy’s fingers that trailed over your thighs, your neck. 

Doffy always touched you so gently when visitors were around, and you melted into him. 

If not for Caesar’s grating laugh, you might have drifted off. Instead, you jolted now and then, Doffy’s hands clutching a little tighter. 

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Are you al–”

“I remember something. Doffy sent Monet with a scientist, this weird guy with–”

“Caesar Clown,” he prompted, his brow arching a bit.

“Yeah. And I guess you wouldn’t know Monet, she joined after you…”

Law pointed to a picture on the wall, your gaze slow in following the gesture. 

“I know of her.”

Your eyes were drawn to a shot of Monet, her wings curled around her as she read a book with those odd, hypnotizing glasses of hers. Memories of her disapproval hit you, a sigh escaping your lips as you tried to rid yourself of her judgments. 

“She’s even more loyal to Doffy than the rest of– than everyone else. She’s almost obsessive. That’s probably why he sent her.”

Law’s body had gone taut, like electricity was running through him as he set his pen to the paper. 

“Please, Y/N, tell me everything you can remember. Even if it doesn’t seem important.”

~

Your brain felt like a wet rag, with Law wringing out every detail of every call or meeting you could think of. 

It seemed strange how much you could recall from your quiet perch on his lap. You were always so bored, but had to fight yourself not to space out or yawn.

Doffy’s possessive fingers along your skin were wonderful, your revealing clothing giving him so much access. As bored as you could get, those teasing touches in front of visitors prepared your body for what came later. 

It was a relief to wet his thigh with slick before he dismissed the guests. He rarely had the patience to prep you any other way. 

You’d spaced out on those memories, Law’s face pinching in concern as he watched your nails digging into your arms.

“Are you hungry? We can continue tomorrow.”

Groaning at the thought, you followed Law back to the galley. He didn’t have much luck in calming his crew this time. They surrounded the two of you until Law begrudgingly introduced you, and your hand was shaken by many greasy, steamy hands pulled out of gloves, and one bear’s paw that you were very hesitant to touch. 

“I’m sorry about what I said before,” Bepo drawled, true sadness seeming to drip from his voice. “I just really love our cap–” 

“Bepo,” Law scolded, and you turned to scold him back as the bear scurried off.

“How could you be so mean, did you see his–”

“Don’t fall for his sad bear eyes,” Law bristled, and you held in your smile at his discomfort. 

“Is that something you’ve learned from experience,” you teased, earning you a scowl.

Law tucked into his meal, not meeting your eyes as he replied. 

“I know my crew.”

“Oh yeah? They all seem to think you’re the most wonderful man in the world. Could the Surgeon of Death be a big softie?���

If looks could kill.

“Okay, sorry,” you teased between bites, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You do realize that I could take away your tongue if I wanted to,” he threatened, with what looked like the barest touch of pink gracing his cheeks. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’d enjoy some alone time with it.”

Law raised his brows as you clamped your hand over your mouth, your face going hot. He looked too smug, his lips curling as if trying not to laugh. 

“Shut up,” you choked out, putting your misty hands in your lap. 

“I’m not the one whose tongue keeps wagging,” he taunted, somehow keeping that stoic air about him, just a hint of playfulness showing through. 

You stuck that tongue out at him before focusing on your meal, and the low chuckle he let escape was hardly noticeable over the nearby conversations of his crew.

But you noticed it. 

Warmth tingled through your body, and your face was still burning by the time he led you to your room.

~

“Will you be alright in here,” he checked in, standing outside the door to the small room he’d set up for you in the barracks. “The crew are on rotating shifts, so there will always be someone sleeping or getting ready nearby if you need anything.”

“Okay,” you said in a small voice. The realization that you were about to be alone in a cramped, metal room made your skin crawl.

“Are you o—“

“I’ll be fine. Thank you,” you lied with a smile. You were good at lying with smiles. 

“Okay,” he nodded, clearing his throat. “I’ll, uh… I’ll come wake you in the morning, alright? We can have breakfast before we continue going over what you remember.”

“Sounds good,” you chirped. Your cheeks started to hurt as you waved him out, letting your muscles relax after he’d closed that heavy door. 

Quiet.

Not completely. Clanging sounds of the sub interrupted the stillness. Soft voices floated in the hallway beyond that door. 

But now that you were alone…

Thoughts. Memories. Fear. Shame. Guilt. 

Falling back on the single bed, you choked out silent sobs, the flood of emotions slamming into you. You had left your world, dove off the edge of a waterfall, but now you were caught beneath the crashing water, drowning while your body was ripped apart. 

What have I done? How could I leave the family? How could I betray Doffy? 

I’m nothing but scum. Useless my whole life, and now I’m a traitor.

Your mind went in endless loops. Gratitude for Law taking you away. Guilt for betraying the family. Relief that you weren’t stuck in that mindless existence anymore. Terror that Doffy would find and kill you both slowly. 

It hurt. Your whole body hurt, your head pounding like the clanging metal of the submarine.

And you couldn’t understand how you could feel your heart breaking and burning in your chest when it was locked up in Law’s office. 

“Y/N, can I come in?”

His knock had sent you to the ceiling, your body spread into cowardly mist while you tried to calm down. 

“Y/N,” he checked again, concern staining his voice. 

“Just a second,” you stalled, going solid in front of the door. You shook yourself, wiped your tears, and took a few quiet breaths before opening the door with another beaming smile. 

“What’s up?”

Law didn’t look at you like an old friend, an enemy, or a captain on a mission. 

He looked at you like a doctor, and you tried not to squirm.

“What’s that,” you pointed to the lump of shiny fabric he held under one arm.

He coughed, looking down at his shoes before returning your gaze, seeming to rebuild that doctor persona.

“You’ve been through an intense amount of trauma, and the shock of… If you would feel comfortable, I’d like to sleep on the floor in here tonight, just to make sure you’re okay. I could sleep outside the door if you prefer, I just—“

He glanced down at your clenched fists, and you tried to relax them as he continued. 

“I want you to feel safe.”

I’ll never be safe. I’m a traitor. I’m weak. I’ll be tortured before they kill me. 

Doffy will…

The lump in your throat burned, and you filled the room with thick mist so he wouldn’t see you shatter, sinking to the floor as you clawed at your empty chest.

Law closed the door, calling your name as he moved blindly toward you. You could feel him in your mist, and you could have avoided him. You could have let yourself expand into tiny droplets of water, keeping yourself away from any care or comfort he could try to provide. 

But you couldn’t think. Just heave silent sobs, and struggle through breaths that took in more mist than oxygen.

“Y/N– fuck,” he cursed, stubbing his toe on the bed as he waved his arms around slowly. 

The mist told you that he’d gone to his knees, crawling close to you in the small space, but you couldn’t do anything with that knowledge. 

Warm fingers found your arm, pressing lightly along to figure out what he was feeling. 

“I’m sorry I’m touching you, I just need to make sure you’re alright,” he breathed, tracing along your shaking body until he found your neck. His fingers almost burned your clammy skin as he took your pulse before gripping your shoulder gently. 

The way that you could see through your eyes was different than how you could see as mist, or through the mist you create, but you had no way to describe the difference. Through the mist, you saw him lean close, his head above yours as if he could see through the mist too. 

“I’m here. I’m right here with you, Y/N.”

Time was impossible to track as you alternated between crying and dissociating, Law’s calm presence never wavering. Eventually, your mist cleared up, from exhaustion instead of choice. 

He lifted your limp body, tucking you into the small bed before rolling out his sleeping bag.

“You don’t have to sta–”

Law interrupted your slurred words with a harsh glare, but sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.”

His eyes seemed brighter in this dim room, his voice too soft, yet firm.

Staring into nothing, you felt numbness trying to take you again, but words jumped out of you before you drifted away. 

“Why does it still hurt,” you accused, tapping against your chest with angry fingers, desperate to rip these feelings out. “You took my heart, Law. Why does it still hurt so bad?”

Somehow, more hot tears fell, your body too weak to keep tearing at the hole inside. 

Law’s eyes trailed away, gone to some other time, some other place. When he came back to you, he took your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. 

“If I could cure a broken heart, I wouldn’t be able to complete my mission.”

His words felt as hollow as your chest. You managed to squeeze his hand, pulling in his distant eyes. 

“So we can be broken together then,” you asked, your voice still hoarse as your lips lifted into a weak smile.

Law huffed a laugh, lifting your fingers to his lips before kissing his promise onto your skin.

“Broken together.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I knew I was going to go crazy when I started writing for Law, and I was correct. I'm obsessed with this emotionally wrecked man 🖤

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass

Part 3

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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[agentwhiskeysdarlin]

Making It Up To You

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x F!Reader

Rating: NSFW 18+ (minors dni)  

Warnings: Jack being the actual sweetest & a little shit, a dash of angst, the cutest banter, domestic bliss, all the surprise, cheesy romantic set up but we love it, the hottest smutty times, oral (female receiving), p in x sex, unprotected sex, gentle but fast sex

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Notes: Welp it has been awhile but I finally got a new fic written!!! Just in time for Valentines Day. I’ve had this idea planned for awhile now and it finally got done! As always massive thanks to @clint-aww-no-barton. If you want to be added or removed from my taglist please let me know! Also I am slowly going to be getting old fics on ao3 that haven’t made it yet. I am very sorry it has taken so long to get the ones not up done. It’s not the easiest thing to do. Thank you all and hopefully I am back!

ao3 link coming sometime…

  The evening was settling around you. The cool wind and the darkening light made you finally go inside. You’d spent a lot of the afternoon outside, reading and sipping on some wine. You’d done everything you could to distract yourself. As you stepped inside and looked around your empty home, you let out a sigh. The home felt so big and lonely without Jack here. You would think after all these years, and all the missions, you would be used to this by now. You would never get used to it. Most of the time it didn’t bother you, this badly, but given the date it felt worse. Your phone rang making you jump, as it pulled you back to reality. The corner of your mouth quirked up slightly at the sound of Jack’s ringtone, and the request for FaceTime.

  “There’s my girl. Happy Valentines Day darlin’!” Jack spoke with enthusiasm, a smile bright on his face.

  “Hi cowboy. Happy Valentines Day.” You tried to force a bright smile, but you knew he would see right through you.

  “What’s wrong?” His face fell and his brow furrowed.

  “I just miss you is all,” you spoke, your smile falling.

  You moved throughout the house, turning on lights and putting away your glass and wine.

  “I miss you too angel. And I really hate that I’m gone today. I fully intend to make this up to you.”

  There was a glint in his eye, and as you sat down on the couch you gave him a questioning look.

  “What are you up to Jack Daniels?”

  “You’ll see soon,” he smirked as he stood and moved somewhere else in his hotel room “Actually sooner than I thought. Like right about…”

  There was a knock at the door, and your head jerked that way, before looking back at Jack with confusion all over your face.

  “Now. Go answer the door darlin’.”

  “Okayyyy.”

  You pushed off the couch taking your phone, and therefore Jack, along with you. You opened your door to a pizza delivery man.

  “Your pizza ma’am.” He spoke with a smile that seemed knowing, as you gave him a smile, still confused.

  “Thank you. Hang on I’ll get you some money.”

  “It’s been taken care of. Have a good night.”

  “Oh? Well thank you. You as well,” you gave him a nod and shut the door as he turned to leave.

  You carefully took the pizza, and the other box that was sitting on top, to the island setting the phone up against them.

  “What’s this all about Jack?” You looked at him through the phone screen, desperately wishing he were here.

  “Well I thought we could have a little virtual Valentines Day date, since it’s the best we got. I even ordered the same thing, so it seemed like we were really together.”

  You could have cried as you looked at the man you loved. The thought he put behind so many things still took you by surprise. Any other man wouldn’t have done this, but Jack wasn’t like any other man.

  “Jack,” his name came off your lips, voice breaking slightly.

  “Now now none of that darlin’. Get you a drink and set me up so we’re across from each other.”

  You moved around the kitchen doing as he asked, grabbing some water and a plate, before sitting down at your dining room table. You pulled the vase of flowers from the middle of the table so they were across from you, and you gently propped your phone against it. Jack must have done something similar because now you seemingly sat across from each other.

  “Now let’s eat!” Jack rubbed his hands together, and you giggled before you grabbed a piece of pizza and some cheesy bread.

  Jack and yourself fell into casual talk about each other’s day. You asked him questions about the mission and he shared what he could. He asked you had done while he was away this time. You laughed softly with how well he knew you. Always ready with a list of things to do while he was gone. Finally you both finished and you sat back, full.

  “That was amazing. Thank you for dinner Jack,” you smiled softly.

  “You never have to thank me for that darlin’. Now you want to watch a movie or we could do something else?”

  “Honestly I would like to just enjoy you and your company. If that’s okay?” You asked suddenly worried you might have ruined more of his plan.

  “That’s perfectly okay angel. After dinner I was leaving the rest up to you.”

  “Okay. I didn’t want to ruin any more sneaky plans you might have had.”

  “You don’t ruin anything angel. I’ve had my shower already but I am going to get comfy if you would like to join me.”

  “Jack are you trying to get me naked?” You asked with a smirk, as you walked the house, making sure the doors were locked before going to your shared bedroom.

  “Is it working?” You could hear his smirk, even though he was off camera getting clothes.

  “Well I do have to, in order to put on pjs, but you’re not going to see.” Your voice teasing.

  “What?!” Jack shot back into the frame and you let out a laugh. “Now why not?!”

  “Because I’m not having FaceTime sex with you. We gotta stay riled up until you get home remember, our deal?”

  “The deal I came up with? Let’s break it.”

  “You are such a man. Plus look who is changed and I didn’t see a thing.”

  You spoke with amusement, earning a shocked look from Jack, before moving out of frame to change.

  “So rude,” he mumbled but you could tell he was holding in a laugh.

  “I’ll remember that when you get home,” you spoke with a laugh as you moved back in frame, grabbing your phone and climbing into bed.

  You turned Jack’s pillow and set the phone against it.

  “Now it’s like you are right next to me.” Even when you spoke the words, they were laced with a slight sadness.

  “Oh no now, give me my laughing girl back.”

  “It’s just…you’re not here to hold me.”

  “I know darlin’. I hope I’m home soon. I know this wasn’t the ideal Valentines Day for you either. I’m sorry.”

  “Jack don’t be sorry. What you did was perfect and I loved it.”

  You watched as Jack settled in, seeming to do the same thing as you, setting up his phone on your side of the bed. You smiled softly at him as he laid down.

  “Hi,” you spoke.

  “Hi there angel,” he smirked giving you a wink.

  “You are going to be asleep in like five minutes if I’m lucky.”

  “Now you don’t know that.”

  “Oh but I do. You hit the pillow and you’re gone. I’ve watched an entire season of a show while you sleep!”

  “You have not!!” Jack spoke defensively but laughed.

  “Oh but I have! Finished a book, silently screaming right next to you. All sorts of things have been done between the time you fell asleep and the time I do.” You laughed as Jack faked an overly dramatic face of defense.

  “I feel attacked right now. I can’t help it.”

  “You are a man cowboy, it comes with the territory, fortunately for you.” You laughed before settling more into the bed.

  “You’re getting sleepy now though aren’t you?” Jack smirked.

  “Yeah I can’t lie I am.”

  “You can go to sleep darlin’. I’ll stay right here until you do.”

  “I don’t want to though. I don’t want this to end yet.”

  “I know but you need your rest angel.”

  “I know,” your voice laced with sadness.

  You turned the tv on and turned your side table lamp down to the dim setting before turning back to Jack. You were met with dimmed lighting on his end as well. You realized, in the quiet, he was watching the same show as you.

  “Are you watching the same thing?”

  “Trying to keep up with us being together without being together. I want you to feel like I’m there when you close your eyes.”

  “I love you Jack.” You spoke with a smile, overwhelmed by this man and the things he did for you.

  “I love you too darlin’. Now close your eyes and get some rest.”

  You simply nodded your head before closing your eyes. Sooner than you expected, you slipped away to a deep, peaceful sleep.

*****

  Your day had been full of errands. You were expecting Jack home anytime now, and you wanted the house fully stocked. You’d allowed yourself to have a me day, to continue to keep yourself distracted, before heading to the grocery store. The first store didn’t have everything on your list, and three stores later you were finally done. Everything marked off your list and tiredness filling your body. You finally pulled into the driveway, grabbing the first set of bags. You battled with the door, before finally getting it open, before you stopped dead in your tracks. Fake flickering candles filled your entire house, and a small path of rose petals guided you to the bedroom. You looked up, eyes finding Jack, leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom. You gulped at the sight before you. He looked undone, with his tie gone, his shirt unbuttoned at the top and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

  “Hiya darlin’,” he smirked with a knowing look at your jaw on the floor.

  “Jack. When did you get home?” You smiled softly as he pushed off the doorframe, and the two of you gravitated to each other.

  “Just a few hours ago. Long enough to put this together,” he held his arms out slightly, before his hands fell to your hips and pulled you close.

  His lips met yours, breaking your bright smile as you kissed him back deeply. Your hands went up his chest, unbuttoning some more buttons.

  “I have groceries in the car,” you breathed out, knowing exactly where this was going by the hunger in Jack’s entire being.

  “Anything frozen?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t worry about it,” Jack spoke with a whisper and you simply nodded, before your lips were crashing back to each other.

  You swore this man could always make you feel dizzy, and completely broken in the best way. Jack’s hands moved to your ass, and you jumped wrapping your legs around his waist, as he skillfully carried you to the bedroom, never letting his lips fall from yours.

  “I think I got a certain holiday to make up for,” Jack finally pulled away, allowing air to fill your lungs, and you smirked.

  “That you do cowboy. Along with being gone,” you mirrored his smirk, your eyes moving to the ceiling thinking, your fingers brushing at the hair at Jack’s neck.

  “I hope you don’t have any plans for the next few days then.”

  “The only plans I have are you,” you smirked before your lips fell back to his.

  It never failed, when Jack returned home and he was able, the two of you were like teenagers, rushing to get the deed done before you were caught by your parents. Things moved fast, hands and lips were everywhere and limbs tangled. But Jack and yourself knew each other like a map you’d memorized. Knew every sensitive place and what it did for the other. The two of you had plenty of study time. That was another thing that made the two of you so much like teenagers. You never could get enough of each other. Your body meeting the mattress pulled you back to the moment. Jack had released you completely, and as your eyes fluttered open already heavy with desire, you watched him as his eyes racked over you.

  “I have no idea how I got so damn lucky, my god you’re beautiful angel.”

  “I liked your truck,” you tried to say with a straight face, but couldn’t help a laugh.

  “Oh it was my truck huh?” Jack’s eyebrows raised as he crawled over you. “It has nothing to do with this…”

  He trailed off as his hands slowly traced up your shirt, his lips falling to your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut and you surrounded yourself with him. He raised your shirt over your head, and discarded it before, quickly removing your bra.

  “Or this…” his voice dipped lower as his lips traveled down, meeting your already hard nipple.

He pulled it between his teeth. flicking it with his tongue before releasing it, pulling a moan from you. He licked over it once more, before moving to the next to do the same. Then he was continuing his way down. and your breathing started to become heavier. He had your pants and underwear gone within moments.

  “Or this,” Jack’s eyes bore into yours as you looked down, darkened with lust and he smirked before his head dipped between your legs.

  His mouth came in contact with your wet pussy and your head flew back and your hand laced in his hair. This man knew what to do with that damn mouth of his. You didn’t realize how worked up you were until you could feel yourself racing to your climax.

  “Okay Jack, yes it was this and all the things before and all the things you were going to do to me after!” You moaned loudly as you pulled gently as his hair.

  He looked up at you with a grin that made you bust out laughing.

  “The truck is just a plus,” you giggle and he stood, quickly removing his shirt, letting out a laugh as well.

  You sat up to start on his pants, which he finished removing, before crawling over you again, as you crawled backwards towards the headboard.

  “I promise you in the coming days,” he paused, to give you a wink that made you laugh again “I’m going to take my damn time with you but right now…”

  Jack entered you taking you by surprise, and your brow furrowed at the pleasure that filled every inch of your body. You looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars, before his hips started to slowly thrust. He didn’t last long going slow, before his speed picked up, but never once did he become too rough, staying gentle but quick. You were soaring, trying so hard to put off the orgasm that was quickly riding its wave to you, but it was a battle you had yet to learn how to win.

  “Jack,” his name fell from your lips in a whine of desperation.

  “Let go for me angel. I got you,” his forehead fell to yours, and you locked eyes with him as you came hard around him.

  You fought to keep his stare until you lost, closing your eyes and submitting yourself to the tidal wave. Jack was not far behind you, burying his face in your neck as he let go deep inside of you. The two of you lay there, panting in the blissful aftermath, before Jack did the one thing the two of you hated most of love making, he pulled away. He didn’t go far, rolling to his back and the two of you were quick to turn to each other.

  “That was amazing as always,” you smirked as you moved in close, your fingers brushing at his chest.

  “We do make a pretty good team don’t we?” Jack smiled brightly and you laughed but a smile lingered across your lips.

  “We really do.”

  Silence fell for a few moments, before his fingers brushed at your chin, your eyes catching his.

  “I missed you,” he spoke gently, his fingers brushing hair behind your ear.

  “I missed you too.”

  “I told Champ I wasn’t coming in for at least three days.”

  “I’m calling him to tell him you will be in in two.”

  Jack’s mouth fell open in fake appall.

  “Now why are you trying to get rid of me a whole day early?!”

  “Because if we go three days just like this, much less how we plan to go, I’ll be in the grave by the end.”

  Jack paused for a moment, and briefly you thought you had seriously hurt his feelings.

  “Yeah you’re probably right. I would be right behind you.”

  You both let out a laugh, before he pulled you to him and kissed you once again. You pulled away, and with a sigh moved to get out of bed, before Jack’s hand on your wrist caught you.

  “Now where do you think you’re going?” He pulled you back down to the bed, caging you under his body.

  “The groceries are still in the car.”

  “Eh we’ll get them tomorrow they’ll be fine.”

  “Fine but if you make me not be able to walk in the morning, you’ll have to haul them in by yourself.”

  “Angel I wasn’t going to make you bring another bag in this house anyways.”

  “Then proceed,” you smirked.

  Jack’s lips fell back to yours, both of you wearing a wide smile and he did indeed proceed.

Tagged: @jimmythegirl​ @arcadianempress​ @discogrrl​ @immundusspiritu​ @someplace-darker​ @thisis-theway​ @ohpedromypedro​ @scribbledghost​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @princess-and-pedro​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @littlevodka​ @all-hallows-evie​ @mack4676​ @perropascal​ @audreyshepbvrn​ @mswarriorbabe80​ @kaqua​ @novemberrain221​ @weasleywinchester​ @lady-bess

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: WW2 AU. Feliciano Vargas is a passionate, if slightly scared, Italian resistance member. Falling in love with a German fighter pilot was the last thing he expected... and it will test his national loyalty, and his heart, to their limits.

Author: George deValier

Note from submitter: Link is to a reupload/archive, as the original ff.net account was deleted somewhere around 2019. Probably the most famous/notorious Hetalia fic, written by much beloved fandom writer George deValier, as part of a larger WW2 AU known collectively as the Veraverse due to being based around songs by Vera Lynn. The mysterious account deletion after years of inactivity probably only added to the mythos.  It was absolutely the kind of fic you'd find scattered references to in the most random corners of the internet back in the heyday of the Hetalia fandom, with all the dramatics you'd expect to follow. 

[unpredictable-probabilities]

A Vow Claimed || Chapter 1: Arranged

Summary:

After discovering that his family has fallen into hard times, Hob Gadling takes it upon himself to accept a wealthy proposition of marriage to an inscrutable scion.

Notes:

Thank you so much to @signiorbenedickofpadua for all the resources about the Regency era~

Still, this fic is more Vibes than Historical Accuracy and there will definitely be anachronisms especially about gender, people of color, and politics in general.

And as always, a big thank you to @patchyegg87 for helping me brainstorm this and for beta-reading <3

One last thing:

Apeiros (ah-pie-ruhs) - a surname to replace "Endless", from Ancient Greek ἄπειρος (ápeiros), meaning “infinite, boundless”

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Word Count: 3,503

Square/Prompt: C2 - Arranged Marriage | @dreamlingbingo

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Regency, Historical Inaccuracy, There's no homophobia, Arranged Marriage, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Hob has good parents, Dream does not

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59599552/chapters/152005054

═════ ◈ ═════

Hob swung his leg over the tall gate and dropped on the ground with a grunt, his winter coat barely softening his fall. One might have expected the only son of Lord Gadling to conduct himself with more grace, but anything resembling propriety had left Hob after his fourth mug of ale, and sneaking back into their house in the dead of night required more urgency than elegance, anyway.

He unsteadily rose to his feet, looking around at the windows to be certain that none of the lamps in the rooms were lit. His parents had retired to their bedroom before he even left the house and would most likely be asleep by now.

He made it to the entry hall and saw that there was light coming from the living room. Perhaps some servants were still awake, but he was friendly enough with them that none would give him any trouble should they run into him. He was about to head for the stairs and to his bedroom when he heard what sounded like hushed voices.

He furrowed his eyebrows and quietly approached the living room, staying hidden in the shadows of the corridor. He slowly peered around the corner and saw his parents on the sofa, a small lamp and two goblets of water on the small table in front of them.

“We could always sell this house,” said his mother. “With a land of this size, we could acquire enough fortune to move somewhere smaller and use the rest of the money to keep the farms going.”

“But this house belonged to your mother,” Hob’s father said. “And her mother before her. You had said that you wish to keep this house in the family,” he gently added.

“Oh but I don’t know what else to do, Frederick. It is only the beginning of December, and we have long weeks of winter ahead of us still. We can survive well enough until spring, but what then? Our crops will not grow nearly fast enough to replenish the money we had spent these past months.”

Hob felt something twist in his stomach. He was entirely aware of the part he played in why their finances had been nearly depleted, but he had no idea how bad the situation had gotten.

The alcohol that had been clouding his mind was dissipating, the pleasant haze of inebriation being steadily replaced with the realisation that he had been sneaking out a few nights a week for mindless amusement while his mother had been considering selling their home.

“There is still… the deal that Lord Apeiros had proposed in his letter,” his father said.

“No,” Hob’s mother shook her head. “I will not force our son into such an arrangement.”

Hob frowned. Even among the nobles, Lord Apeiros was exceptionally influential. His ancestors were barons and served as advisors or generals back when the country still had a monarchy, and House Apeiros still retained much of their wealth even when they no longer served the government. Why would someone like Lord Apeiros even take notice of their little family, and what did Hob have to do with any of it?

“Neither will I,” his father said reassuringly. “But perhaps we might take it into consideration, if it is something our son would be willing to do. He is six and twenty; he is more than old enough to make the decision for himself.”

His mother looked down at her lap and fidgeted with a handkerchief. “He had already given up half his salary for the administrative work he does for the farms, I cannot ask him to do this.”

“Do what?” Hob stepped out of the shadows and faced his parents.

“Hob,” his father said in surprise.

“Are you heading out at this hour?” his mother—who he now noticed had red rims around her eyes—frowned at his winter coat.

“What does Lord Apeiros want with me?” Hob asked, but was only met with the hesitant gazes of his parents. “Mother, please.” He walked over to sit beside her, taking her hand in both of his. “How can I help?” He looked to his father in hopes that he would explain. “Let me pay back the fortune I had lost.”

“The tavern brawl was not your fault, son,” his father said kindly, the grey half-circles under his eyes giving him a weary expression. “You merely defended Miss Johanna’s honour.”

“And who knows what would have happened to you two had you not fought back,” his mother squeezed his hand.

Hob knew they were right, but even before that night he had already been spending their money on lavish parties he held in this house to celebrate the harvest season, as he had done so for the past three years. The hefty sum they had to pay for the damages done to the tavern was merely the final straw.

“What does Lord Apeiros want?” Hob persisted.

His mother looked down at their joined hands and pursed her lips, a worried frown creasing her forehead.

It was his father who spoke, slowly as if being careful in choosing his words. “Lord Apeiros has expressed his faith that once this winter is over, we will continue to be the town’s main supplier of crops. He is interested in… being involved with our livelihood.”

Hob furrowed his eyebrows in thought. “He means to purchase our farms?” He supposed it made sense, rich noblemen had been known to buy lands and businesses they might find profitable. But that still didn’t explain what it had to do with him; he just worked at their farms but the ownership is still under his father’s name.

His parents exchanged glances, and his mother’s grip on his hand tightened a fraction.

“He has a son of the same age as you…” she said, still looking at their joined hands. “If our families were to legally unite, so would our finances.”

Hob’s face went slack with realisation as his mother’s words slowly became clear. He was frozen in place as his mind tried to deny and reason that perhaps he had misunderstood.

His father met his gaze, and Hob dreaded to hear the explanation that he had been insisting upon.

“He means for you to marry his son. Mr. Morpheus Apeiros.”

═════ ◈ ═════

“My lord?” The voice of their librarian took Morpheus out of the story he had been reading. “You’re here early. Have you broken your fast?” She approached his table.

“I had no appetite to do so,” Morpheus said without looking up from his book, staring at the fine grains of sand in the illustrated hourglass. “And I still do not have it, so I would thank you not to bother with convincing me to have a meal,” he cast a sideways glance at her.

Lucienne sighed. “I do wish you would develop healthier eating habits, my lord.”

“And I wish you would stop calling me by that title in private. It seems we are both disappointed,” he said lightheartedly. They were childhood friends and he had grown closer to Lucienne than some of his siblings; it always made him want to wrinkle his nose whenever she called him by a title.

Lucienne pulled up a chair and took a seat to his right. “What’s got you brooding on this fine spring morning, Morpheus?”

He closed the book and placed it on the table, resting his palm on the cover. “The meeting… is today.”

Lucienne was silent for a few moments. No doubt she knew of today’s significance; all the house staff were made aware so as to prepare the necessary arrangements. Far be it from House Apeiros to disappoint guests.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Lucienne asked quietly, kindly and without pity. It gave Morpheus some degree of comfort.

“No,” he said sincerely. The time for second thoughts had long since passed. “I am simply making the most of what little time I have left available to myself. Once the arrangement has begun I might not have the luxury of being here at my leisure.”

“What do you mean by that?” Lucienne furrowed her eyebrows. “You will still have time to yourself, will you not?”

Morpheus leaned back in his seat. “Mother and Father do not approve of my spending time reading books that have nothing to do with making profits. What sort of spouse do you imagine they have handpicked for me?” He had already accepted the possibility that he would have to hide his reading habits from yet another person in his life that he would be forced to live with, and yet it still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Lucienne fell silent, knowing that empty words of comfort would just upset him further.

“It’s strange,” Morpheus smiled without mirth. “They named me after the Greek god of sleep and dreams, yet they see little value in me resting or engaging in anything remotely artistic.”

He traced his fingers on the embossed letters of his name on the book cover, so familiar and yet distant. He could not be any more different from his namesake; the god Morpheus was free to create stories and shape the dreams of others, while he was not free to shape his own. 

“Sometimes I think they just named us after gods to sate their vanity,” Morpheus muttered half to himself. “Perhaps Father found out what our family name meant in Ancient Greece and decided to lean into the Greek aesthetic.”

Lucienne huffed a chuckle. “That does sound like him.”

They sat in relatively comfortable silence for a few moments before she spoke again.

“Do you really not think it possible to become friends with your betrothed? You could both make the situation better for yourselves if you could at least confide in each other.”

Morpheus could feel a slight frown crease his forehead. He had asked Matthew to gather all the information he could about Lord Gadling’s only son, and suffice to say he was not holding out hope that they would get along well. With his famous parties and rumours of drunken nights at taverns, Robert Gadling seemed frivolous at best and a scoundrel at worst. More likely than not, Lord Gadling was hoping to force his son to be tempered by marriage to an influential family, or at the very least make him someone else’s problem. 

Morpheus sighed and opened his book again. “I should like to be left alone now, Lucienne.”

She nodded and stood up. “I will tell Matthew to bring you some food.”

Morpheus turned to her and frowned. “He is my secretary, not a servant.”

“He’s the only one who is never afraid to approach you no matter how grumpy you’re being,” Lucienne pointed out.

“I am not grumpy,” he said indignantly, to which Lucienne responded with an amused smirk. “And I thought no food is allowed in the library?”

“It’s allowed if I say it is,” Lucienne said with finality before turning on her heel to presumably fetch Matthew.

Morpheus allowed himself a small smile as the door closed behind her. If nothing else, he knew he would always have the two of them.

═════ ◈ ═════

“Can’t remember the last time I’d seen you all dressed up.”

Hob had been standing beside the carriage and he turned at the sound of Jo’s voice. “I could say the same about you, Miss Johanna.”

They dressed more like the common people whenever they went with their friends outside, mainly because their friends were common people, and they’d preferred to blend in.

Today was different, however. Hob’s entire ensemble was tailor-made and designed to impress even the most scrutinising nobles, while Jo was dressed in fine outdoor clothing befitting of her stature as the daughter of a viscount.

“We haven't seen you in months and now you’re off getting engaged?” she had walked over and leaned against the carriage with her arms crossed.

Hob managed a smile. “No engagement yet. Everyone still has to agree to the finality of it in today's meeting.”

Jo snorted, which looked mildly unnerving given her elegant dress and hairstyle. “You're not going to be able to go out with us anymore, being a married man. We'd have one less bloke to bet on card games and pay for drinks.”

“Abel usually has enough coin to bet, and from what I hear Rachel's buying you drinks now, eh?” Hob quipped. He wasn't entirely surprised about it, anyone with working eyes would see how those two looked at each other.

A light blush coloured Jo’s face even as she glared. “We're talking about you now.” Her scowl turned into something resembling concern. “Are you sure about this, Hobsie? The Apeiros aren't just any noble family. You'd have eyes on you all the time, your every movement criticised and catalogued for the papers.”

“I don't believe it'll be that bad,” Hob felt like he was trying to convince himself more than her. “The man I'm set to marry is hardly ever in the papers. Perhaps his preference for solitude would work to my advantage in staying out of the public eye.”

Jo took a step closer and lowered her voice. “I’ve met Morpheus Apeiros in a handful of social events, always stiff as a board and never deigns a smile to anyone. He might seem like one of those prissy lordlings you find challenging to swive, but you would actually have to stay with him for far longer than a night of bedding.”

Hob almost winced at the blunt reminder of who he had been just months ago. “I know, but I don't see him as someone to bed as a challenge, I actually hope to befriend him. It's reasonable to assume that he would like to avoid a miserable marriage just as much as I do.”

Jo sighed. “I know your parents aren't forcing you to do this. So why are you?”

Hob absently traced his fingers on the family crest engraved on the ring he was wearing. As the firstborn he was obliged to wear it to important appointments. “I have to do this, Jo. I gave my word to my parents three months ago that I would do all I can to help and make up for my past mistakes. And I'm standing by it.”

Jo shook her head. “You never should have fought with those thugs back in September.” The guilt in her voice didn't escape Hob’s notice.

“I wasn't referring to that,” he said sincerely. “They deserved it, and I'd do it again. But maybe smarter next time, and with not as much property damage.”

Jo rolled her eyes fondly.

“Miss Johanna,” said the delighted voice of Hob’s mother.

They turned to see her arm-in-arm with Hob’s father, walking down the front steps following the coachman who took his place in front of the carriage.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Hob’s father smiled. “We had not seen you in a long time.”

“You have grown so much!” Hob’s mother cooed as they stopped walking in front of Jo.

“Lord Frederick, Lady Amelia,” Johanna returned the smile and curtsied politely. “I just came to see old Hobsie before he's gone.”

“I'm going to get engaged, not hanged,” Hob scowled at her playfully.

His mother chuckled. “Well, we best be off now. It would not do to be tardy,” she patted Hob’s arm.

They said their goodbyes and soon enough the carriage was rolling along the path to the wealthier part of town.

Hob could not have guessed how long the journey had been, nervous as he was and feeling cold despite the sunny weather.

It felt like no time at all and they were stepping out of the carriage and onto the grounds of the Apeiros manor. Hob vaguely noticed the carriage drive away once more, and the pleasantries exchanged by his parents and the house staff as they were invited in. They had arrived a bit early, apparently, and they were being led to some chairs and tables in the garden to have some refreshments while the banquet was being prepared.

The chill that Hob had been feeling in the carriage ride had completely disappeared and he could almost feel himself sweating under his clothes. They were outdoors but somehow the imposing walls of the manor felt suffocating, the tall windows like eyes looking down upon him with judgement.

“I'm sorry, pardon, can I take a stroll while we wait?” Hob asked one of the footmen nearby.

“Of course, Mr. Gadling,” the footman tipped his head politely. “You may all walk the garden freely, and you will be summoned when it is time for lunch.”

“Are you well, my dear?” His mother asked, frowning in concern.

“I am,” Hob forced himself to smile. “Just need to stretch my legs after the carriage ride.”

“Don't you want some refreshments first, at least?” his father gestured to the drinks and fruit slices on the table.

“No, I'm fine, really.” Hob hoped his nausea didn't show on his face. “I'll be right back.”

He turned and walked away slowly enough as to remain polite and inconspicuous, but couldn't stop his feet from speeding up once he was out of sight of everyone.

He stopped beside a fountain and took out his handkerchief to dab at the sweat on his forehead. He had managed to keep relatively calm about this arrangement for the past three months, and now it seemed that without the worries of winter occupying his mind, all the nervousness was catching up to him.

A sudden flap of wings startled him and he gasped, almost tripping on his own feet as he stumbled backwards.

A black and white raven had perched on top of the fountain, looking at Hob with beady eyes and its head tilted slightly to the side. Was it curious? Hob hadn't spent enough time with birds to know.

“You gave me a fright,” Hob addressed the raven if only to work off some of the uneasiness thrumming under his skin. “I thought my heart would stop, and I have no intention of dying today, thank you very much. Or ever, if I can help it.”

“Did I hear you say you have no intention of ever dying?”

Hob whirled around and nearly stumbled again, searching for who had spoken.

A fair man dressed in fine dark clothing was walking towards him. He seemed to have come from the bench a few feet away that Hob had failed to notice when he first turned this corner. Embarrassment heated Hob’s face as he realised that the man had just watched him have a conversation with a bird, though he noticed that the man didn't seem to be mocking him. There was only curiosity in those piercing blue eyes.

The man held a book to his side as he walked, a finger placed between the pages to keep it from closing entirely. He carried himself with far too much confidence to be a servant, and was dressed too elegantly besides. His black shirt was obviously tailored to his slender frame, and the waistcoat hugging his torso was embroidered with deep blue and white patterns that blended well with the rest of his clothing, making it appear as if he was wearing a piece of the night sky.

“Uh, yeah,” Hob belatedly realised that he still hadn't responded until the man was standing right in front of him. “Yeah, that's right,” he offered a smile that he hoped looked playful yet polite.

The man glanced at the raven before looking at Hob again. “She will not harm you. She is merely curious about unfamiliar faces.”

His voice was deeper than Hob had expected, and quieter. It made Hob think of weighted blankets on cold nights.

“Good to know.” Hob returned his handkerchief back to his breast pocket, and the man’s eyes followed the movement.

“Robert Gadling?” the man asked, his gaze meeting Hob’s after having seen the ring on his finger.

“Yes,” Hob instinctively straightened his posture. Something about hearing his name in that voice reminding him that he should conduct himself properly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir…?” he held out his palm.

The man regarded him for a moment before accepting the handshake. “Morpheus Apeiros. I believe we are indeed meant to get acquainted today.”

Hob felt as if his heart had dropped to his stomach and then proceeded to turn into fluttering butterflies. Of course, of course this would be Morpheus. This was his house, for God's sakes.

Their handshake was already done, but Hob could still feel the cool smooth skin against his palm, and he gave a silent prayer of thanks that his hands hadn't been sweating despite his nerves.

Several thoughts were vying for Hob’s attention at once; embarrassment that he didn't recognise his betrothed, wondering if he had already made a fool of himself, relief that Morpheus didn't seem put off at all.

But one thought rang more clearly than the others, bringing a warmth to his face that had nothing to do with the weather.

I'm going to marry this man.

═════ ◈ ═════

(Dreamling Bingo Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[fallen-gravity]

One Call Away

It's 1982. Somewhere in New Mexico, Stan recieves a phone call from not-quite his brother. Someone is threatening to take his life. Whether Ford himself is desperately reaching out for help, or someone else entirely has him at gunpoint, Stan knows one thing for sure: He needs to find him and fast.

Alternatively: An AU where the payphone Bill used to call Stan while posessing Ford worked, and Stan is actually forced to listen to his "brother" threaten to kill himself.

Notes:

Caution: This fic has MAJOR spoilers for The Book of Bill. Proceed with caution.

Author's Note 2 Electric Boogaloo: God, this book has had a huge grip on my psyche all week. I'm losing my mind. I'm going absolutely feral. I lost my shit at the section of the Missing Journal 3 Pages where Ford revealed that Bill tried to make a phone call in his name to Stan threatening to kill himself. I audibly gasped. I read it three times. God. I'm insane.

No character death tag because nobody dies! This fic ends on a positive note, I promise :')

AO3 Link

Or under the cut:

When you’ve been scamming suckers out of their money as long as Stan has, you come to learn to expect that anything can happen. You learn to tend to your own injuries, you learn the best escape routes, you learn as many languages as you can in case you need to flee the country, you learn to disappear without a trace; when you expect everything, you learn to let nothing surprise you.

When you have a public phone line that anyone can call, you learn to expect that only about half of those calls are gonna be potential new customers eager to try out your products. When you’ve been relying on these new customers to provide the money for your next meal, you tend to pay attention to patterns; you notice when your commercials air, how many customers are likely to call in, and how long it takes for customers to realize they’ve been scammed and call back demanding their money back. To most, it looks like the world’s most elaborately thought out scam they’ve ever seen. To you, it’s survival.

Expect everything so you can be prepared for anything. That’s how Stan sees it, anyway. As long as he’s prepared, nothing can catch him off guard. If he knows what’s coming, he’ll never have to wake up in the trunk of a car with his hands tied behind his back ever again.

Unfortunately for Stan, though, that means being hyper-alert at all times, even in his sleep, so even the most mundane of noises can wake him up. If the couple in the hotel room next to him drops a bottle of shampoo in the shower, he’s gonna hear it and wake up. 

If the phone starts ringing at god-knows-when in the morning, he’s going to shoot up awake, even if it just turns out to be some dumb telemarketer trying to reach him about his car’s extended warranty.

The alarm clock on the hotel nightstand tells him it’s nearing four-thirty in the morning when the complimentary phone in his hotel room starts ringing. 

That’s…strange. There’s no way that could be a customer, because Stan never bothered to buy commercial spots for late night and prime time television. For one, prime time is incredibly expensive and has too many competitors who are selling actual products, and secondly, Stan’s found that he has the most success when he advertises on the daytime soap opera channels, because that’s when all the bored housewives and old folks’ homes are likely watching TV. 

Could it be someone he’s pissed off? No, that doesn’t make any sense either, because they don’t usually have the courtesy to call before they show up with a shotgun or twelve. It can’t be Ma, since she usually calls when Pa goes away on his weekend trips to Atlantic City. 

Nothing’s adding up. Every fiber in his being is telling him not to answer.

And yet… 

He fears more for what will happen to him if he doesn’t answer. 

He pats his hair down, takes a deep breath, and picks up the receiver. 

“You’ve reached Stan-Co! Totally authentic and worthwhile products. If you need it, I have it. Stan’s your man. How can I legitimately help you today?”

“Stanley!” replies an all-too familiar voice, one he hasn’t heard in nearly ten years. “Just the man I wanted to see!” he says, despite not being able to see him and having been the one who called first. 

“Wh- Stanford?!? The hell are you doin’ calling my infomercial line?” Stan splutters, too shocked to even bother trying to keep his voice down. 

“Awww, that’s not a very nice hello for your favorite brother, is it?” Ford’s voice replies, sounding like he’s suppressing hysterical laughter. 

Something’s wrong.

 Stan may not have spoken to his brother in years, but he can instantly tell that something’s wrong.

“Stanford, what the hell is going on?”

There’s a short pause, and then Ford blows a raspberry into the receiver. “You’re no fun! I thought for sure you’d cry like a baby when I called!” 

Yeah, okay, something is definitely wrong. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on, Ford? Why the hell are you calling me so late? Why me? I thought you hated my guts!”

“Oh, I do!” Ford replies without a drop of hesitation, giggling like a madman. “But I don’t have much time, and there’s something really important I need to say, and you’re the only person I want hearing what I’m about to say.” There’s something…off about the way he sounds, not quite the slur of someone who’s drunk and far too energetic to be that of someone lacking sleep. But there’s something almost garbled about it, like he’s not all that aware of what he’s saying, and if Stan listens close enough he’s sure that he can hear an echo.

But Stan can recognize the cheap, static-y sound of someone calling from a payphone anywhere. Wherever Ford is, he’s calling from outside, and the last time Stan checked the only places outside that echoed were either very high up, very dangerous, or both of them put together. Stan does his best to repress the lump forming in his throat trying to imagine what kind of danger he possibly could’ve gotten himself into, especially if he felt the need to call him, rather than the cops, but he still can’t quite shake the tremble in his voice when he replies.

“Not much time? C’mon, Ford, don’t say that! I can help you! Screw this cold shoulder bullshit! I can help you! Just tell me what’s going on so we can figure this out together!”

An eerily long pause, and the next time Ford speaks it’s as if he brought the phone as close to his mouth as he possibly could. 

“You’re too late,” he replies, colder and more dismissive as Stan’s ever heard in his entire life. “I’m going to take a swim in the frozen lake tomorrow, and I might not ever come back, so if you don’t hear from me, I just want you to know that it’s because I never loved you. Buh-Byeeeeee!” 

“WAIT!” Stan screeches, and thankfully it’s enough to stop Ford from hanging up. “Ford, c’mon, there’s gotta be something I can do! You’re acting crazy! I’m not asking anymore, I’m begging! Where the hell are you?”

Another pause. 

Then, a voice that doesn’t sound anything like Ford’s.

“Oh, goody! An audience! You want to watch him die so badly, that’s fine by me! I’ll even hold off just for you!” An ear-shatteringly high pitched cackle. “Gravity Falls, Oregon. If you want him, come and get him.”

“Him?! Who the hell is-” Stan snaps, but before he can ask any more questions, Ford hangs up, and all Stan is left with is the droning buzz of the dial tone.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Either Ford’s lost his mind and really is planning to off himself, or someone else is threatening to do it for him. Shit. Shit. Stan has to go now. Everything else be damned, if he doesn’t leave before this other maniac gets bored of waiting then Ford’s not gonna be there at all when he finally makes it to Oregon. That’s nearly halfway across the country from his hotel in New Mexico as is, so he already doesn’t have any time to spare.

He leaps out of bed, reaching underneath until he finds his duffle bag, and practically tears the place apart trying to get all of his belongings together. There’s something in his gut telling him he’s not coming back any time soon, and even if Ford had miraculously said he was only one state over, Stan isn’t willing to risk leaving behind anything important, weaponry included. How’s Stan supposed to know what kind of bullshit Ford got himself into? How could he live with himself if he assumed all was well and left his brass knuckles behind, only to find his brother half-dead in an alleyway somewhere? 

He’s not risking it. Even if everything is fine, and Ford had only sounded like that because he was drunk off his ass and had no idea what he was actually saying, Stan’s not risking it.

Even if Ford doesn’t want him in his life, Stan’s not willing to risk losing him. Not again. Not permanently. 

Once he has all his stuff together, Stan scribbles down a half-assed apology for housekeeping and tapes it to the door alongside a twenty dollar bill. He hastily tosses all of his stuff in the back of the car, and speeds off out of the hotel parking lot as if it were his own life on the line. He doesn’t want to think about the worst case scenarios, so for now he focuses only on the road signs for directions to the closest pit stop and hopefully enough energy drinks to last him the twenty-something hour drive he’s about to make. 

Thankfully, the closest one is less than an hour away and open 24/7 to boot, so Stan is sure that his luck is turning around; all he has to do is pop in, grab a few things, and be on his way. He’ll be in Oregon before he knows it.

That is, of course, until he realizes that none of the maps at the place even have a so-called Gravity Falls listed on any of them.

“Uh, hey,” Stan calls out to the worker behind the cash register, who looks like he’s falling asleep where he stands. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Gravity Falls is, do you? Gravity Falls, Oregon?” 

At first Stan’s not entirely sure if the poor guy even heard him, but then the worker eyes him up and down and sighs heavily. “You makin’ fun of me or something?”

Stan blinks. “What? No, A’course not!” he sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t exactly have a lot of time here! I don’t know why I can’t find it on any of your brochure maps, but I’ve got a gut feeling that someone I love is in a lot of danger and I need to get there as fast as I possibly can. Do you know where it is or not?”

For a brief moment the man still doesn’t answer, eyeing him up and down again, before he sighs and leans forward, like the information he’s about to give him is top-secret government information. “Alright,” he whispers, and glances around the store to make sure the two of them are alone. “I’ve heard things. Rumors. Crazy stories about ghouls and goblins and people who come and go without a trace of memory of who they were before they entered that town. I’ve got a general idea of where it is, but I’m not confident. If you’re willing to listen, I’ve got theories.”

Under any other circumstances, Stan would wave him off as insane and book it out of there as fast as he could, but he’s desperate for any information he can get, and he’s not entirely sure when the next time he’ll find anyone even remotely familiar with the town will even be. So Stan agrees, and does his best not to show how insane he thinks this worker is as he starts going off about the supernatural and monsters that sound like they belong in a Saturday morning cartoon. 

If Ford really is anywhere near any kind of place that fits this man’s stories, it’s no wonder he sounded like he was starting to lose his mind. 

After listening to the man ramble on for god knows how long and watching him draw circles in the map where he thinks the town could be, Stan thanks him by actually paying for what he came in for before jumping back into his car and speeding down the highway as fast as he possibly can. 

It’s an agonizing two day drive, only stopped by the times Stan fell asleep at the wheel and forced himself to pull over and take a nap, and the time he was so desperate for food that he pulled off at some truck stop (with admittedly the grossest food he’s eaten since becoming homeless) for a hot meal. If it were up to him, he would’ve done the whole drive in one go, but it was when he nearly careened his car off a cliff trying to stay awake that he realized that he wouldn’t be any good to his brother dead, so he resolved to also take short driving breaks here and there to make sure he kept his energy up; if he really does need to fight someone when he gets there, he’s gonna need all the strength he can get. 

Thankfully, upon arrival at Gravity Falls, Ford’s place of residence is much easier to find than Stan had feared; for a guy who’d been longing for a place he belonged since early childhood, Ford sure likes to stick out like a sore thumb wherever he goes. As soon as Stan goes around town asking townsfolk if anyone had seen anyone who looked like him “except a lot smarter, I guess,” nearly every single person he asks points off in the same direction of the woods and gives him the same confused sort of I think he lives somewhere in there. If he hadn’t gotten it from at least five separate people, Stan would’ve been sure that they were all screwing with him. 

And, as it turns out…every single one of them is right. It doesn’t take that much venturing in the woods for Stan to come across the giant cabin aglow in eerie blue lighting and surrounded by tall fences of barbed wire with pieces of cardboard stapled to it and “KEEP OUT” written on them in shaky handwriting. If Ford is anywhere, it’s here. 

Now…breaking into somewhere he’s not allowed? Stan can do that in his sleep. He’s done it hundreds of times, and he’ll probably do it another hundreds of thousands of times again before he dies.

But… 

Seeing his brother again? 

That terrifies him to his very core. Reason for driving all the way out here aside, there’s still a very real chance Ford’s gonna tell him he still never wants to see him again and slam the door in his face, and then Stan’s really gonna have nowhere to go. After everything, if Stan rescues Ford from whatever’s after him and he still tells him to leave and never come back?

What then?

…No. That’s not what matters right now. He can worry about that later.

With a shake of his head to brush off his thoughts, Stan rams his car into the fence hard and fast enough to topple it to the ground. He drives down the path until he’s close enough to the front entrance that he can hop out of his car as quickly as he can, but hidden enough that he won’t be seen if someone (or something) tries to escape.

Stan takes a deep breath as he exits his car and makes his way to the front door, and finds himself hesitating to knock the door as soon as he’s on the porch steps.

It’s for his own good, Stan tells himself. It’s for his own good. I’m just trying to help. It’s for his own good. 

He stamps down on any last remnants of hesitation and knocks on the door, loud enough for Ford to hear but gently enough to hopefully assure him that it isn’t anyone who wants to hurt him. Almost instantaneously, Stan can hear the sound of objects falling and glass shattering from inside, like a spooked deer trying to dodge the headlights of an oncoming truck. Stan’s sure he can hear the sound of someone muttering, and he’s relieved beyond comparison that it’s the only voice he can hear coming from inside.  

Because he can tell that it’s Ford’s voice. 

Which means he’s still alive.

Stan huffs out a huge sigh of relief, and subconsciously begins patting down the wrinkles in his clothes to make himself more presentable. He waits, and he waits, but despite Stan knowing he heard Ford stumbling around inside, he never comes to answer the door. 

Stan frowns. This is going to be even harder than he thought. Stan tries again, this time knocking exactly six times in the hopes that it’ll clue Ford in on the fact that it’s just him at the door.

As it turns out, though, that seems to be an even bigger mistake than knocking normally, because now the noises coming from inside sound even more frightened. From inside, Stan can hear a muffled string of curse words, followed by the sound of some piece of furniture being knocked over, and finally, the sound of feet trying and failing to sneakily run across a squeaky hardwood floor.  Stan’s about to give up, head into town, and try reaching Ford from a payphone instead, but the door slowly starts to creak open before Stan has the chance to step down from the porch and get back in his car. 

“Stay back!” Ford shrieks, his voice trembling. Stan still can’t quite see him, because he’s too distracted by the crossbow being shoved in his face. “I don’t care who you’re pretending to be, I will shoot if you try anything!”

Ford finally steps out into view, and Stan’s heart falls to his stomach. Sweet Moses, he looks so much worse than Stan ever could’ve imagined. His hair is a wreck, sticking up in some places and sticking to the side of his face in others. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy, which Stan can only hope is from crying and not something…worse. There’s a dried streak of blood running down from his right eye, and there’s scratches and cuts splattered around his face. He’s wearing a ratty trench coat, and the white shirt underneath is practically falling off of his body, concerningly torn to bits at the chest area. And from what’s left of the poor shirt, there’s splotches of vomit mixed with some other…unrecognizable liquids.

Stan can feel a foul-tasting bile rising in his throat at the sight of him. Surely anyone else would flee, thinking him to be clinically insane, but Stan refuses to sit around and ignore whatever caused his brother to turn out like…this. 

“Stanford?” Stan splutters, failing to keep the shock out of his voice. “What the ever-loving  fuck is going on?” 

Somehow, that of all things is what seems to snap Ford out of his trance. He’s still clinging to his crossbow, but his fingers aren’t on the trigger anymore and his eyes are already looking less foggy than when he’d opened the door a minute prior. He blinks and rubs at his eyes, and takes a cautious, shaky step forward, like he’s afraid the ground will shatter like glass under his feet if he moves too quickly. 

“S-Stanley?” Ford whispers, more to himself than to Stan, but Stan can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes him. 

He’s not too far gone. There’s still hope. Stan goes to take another step forward, but before he has the chance, all the color drains from Ford’s face.

“Oh no,” Ford whispers, and the crossbow slips from his hand. “Oh no no no no no no no,” he mumbles, retreating back inside without closing the door. He comes back out moments later, gripping a flashlight in one hand and a VHS tape in the other. 

Out of nowhere, Ford grabs Stan by the shoulders, prompting a surprised yelp out of him, and even more out of nowhere, Ford takes the flashlight and flashes it in his eyes. 

“Ow! What gives!?” Stan exclaims, pulling himself out of Ford’s grip and rubbing at his eyes with his wrist. When his vision finally readjusts from the assault, he’s surprised to see that Ford’s whole posture has relaxed significantly. Sure, he still looks frightened out of his mind, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to shatter to pieces anymore. 

“How long have you been here?” Ford asks, completely ignoring Stan’s previous questions. 

“Uhh…” Stan pauses, admittedly taken aback by the question. “About an hour, I think?” he shrugs. “Had some trouble finding you, since some of the folks I asked around town didn’t seem to know who I was talking about when I asked about you.”

Ford’s eyes widen in horror. “You asked around town about me?” He splutters, but then clears his throat to regain his composure. “Did anyone try to get anything out of you? Were you followed?” 

Stan snorts. “Puh-lease. The most dangerous person around here is probably me, and I haven’t eaten a healthy meal in weeks.” He shakes his head. “Nobody said anything. And if I was followed, I’d know. It’s something you learn to look out for when you’ve been living on the streets for ten years.” There’s a shred more resentment in his tone than he meant for it to be, but it seems to get the message across well enough. Ford sighs, and gestures inside. 

“Come in,” Ford mumbles, his gaze falling to the ground. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time.” Without waiting for Stan, Ford turns heel and hastily returns inside. Stan does his best to follow close behind, but stops dead in his tracks as soon as he steps foot inside. 

The whole place is trashed. 

Trashed far beyond what Stan thought a single human could ever be capable of. There’s papers scattered everywhere, bottles of ink spilled and pooling everywhere, cupboards with holes smashed into the doors, broken plates and twisted rusty nails scattered all over the floor, a concerningly bloodied hammer on the kitchen countertop, multiple windows boarded up with splintered wood, and empty boxes of instant coffee mix strewn all around the kitchen.

Most concerningly of all, there’s a door that leads somewhere that’s covered with scratches and dripping with blood, and Stan’s not entirely sure whether that means something wanted in or if something was desperate to get out. 

Stan’s not entirely sure which thought he prefers. 

He doesn’t have too much time to stew on that, though, because he’s pulled from his thoughts by the loud thwack of plastic being smacked against the wall. He turns to the source of the noise, and he’s surprised to find Ford desperately trying to break the VHS tape in half. When that doesn’t work, he groans in frustration and resolves to throwing it on the ground. 

“Uh…Stanford?” Stan tries, and reaches out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder, but Ford moves swiftly in another direction before he can reach him.

“I can’t do it,” Ford’s voice wavers with emotion. His head droops in defeat, and though his back is turned, Stan can see him cover his face with his hands. “I can’t do it. I’m too late. I can’t do it.”  He starts to shake even harder, like his body wants him to cry but he’s forcing it not to happen because he needs to stay strong.

For who? Himself? For Stan? For someone else?

“Hey, hey…” Stan drops his voice to a whisper, hoping a calmer tone of voice will be more likely to get a proper reply out of Ford. Stan is one-hundred percent not calm, and is in fact getting more and more freaked out the longer he doesn’t get a reply, but the last thing he needs is to stress Ford out even more than he already is. “S’alright. I’m here, okay? Whatever it is I can help you with. I don’t even care if it involves any nerdy-smarts stuff. I can learn it for you. I can help you.”

For a few brief moments, Ford’s heavy breathing pauses. He turns to look at Stan, and it’s hard not to flinch at the fact that he’s looking more and more like a kicked, abused puppy. He looks like he’s genuinely considering replying, even goes to open his mouth, but clamps down on that moments later when another thought seemingly comes to him. 

“I…” he stammers, and violently shakes his head again. “I can’t. I could never.” He starts pacing back and forth in place, rubbing his arms up and down together in a failed attempt to self-sooth. “I wish I could, but…” he trails off, but stops before he can allow himself to finish. He violently shakes his head again, like he’s not allowing himself to even think that things could possibly get better. 

Stan scowls. That’s the last straw. 

“Stanford.” Stan speaks firmly, and grabs at both of his brother’s shoulders. His grip is gentle enough not to hurt him, but strong enough to prevent him from squirming away. As it turns out, though, the strength isn’t very necessary, since Ford practically goes limp in his arms at the touch. 

“Stanford,” Stan repeats as he turns Ford around to force him to look him in the eyes. “I’m not asking anymore. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. I know for a fact that I didn’t just haul my ass all the way out to Oregon from New Mexico worried sick to death that my brother was going to kill himself just for him to push me away again. I don’t know if something happened to you after you got rejected from that fancy nerd school, or if someone’s after you, or if you really are thinking about killing yourself. I don’t care if that phone call from the other day was a threat or just a drunk dial you made after watching too much Galaxy Sci-Fi Wars, or what, but I don’t need any of that to see how much trouble you’re in! You’re shaking! You’re hurt! Your house looks like it was hit by every single natural disaster all at once! I don’t care how it happened, I care that it happened. Talk to me, Stanford. I’m not leaving until you talk.”

There’s a heavy pause. Ford’s eyes are darting all around Stan’s face, and Stan’s not quite sure what he’s looking for. He doesn’t look angry or offended, but he doesn’t look all that convinced, either. It’s almost as if there’s a deep-rooted sadness in his gaze, like Ford’s not fully convinced of his honesty, and that breaks Stan’s heart more than anything else.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Ford finally replies, breaking eye contact but not bothering to break out of Stan’s grip.

Stan wants to laugh. If the situation were less dire, he would laugh. “Wouldn’t understand?” he replies, gently shaking Ford’s shoulders. “Wouldn’t understand what? Having a target on your back wherever you go? An expensive bounty on your head? You think I don’t understand having to sleep with one eye open? With having to pack everything up as soon as possible because you might not survive the night if you don’t leave? Or do you think I don’t understand being too scared to try leaving, because you feel like the moment you’re out of a so-called ‘safe zone’ is the moment someone’s gonna kidnap you? Or throw you in the trunk of their car? Or do something much, much worse to you? Just because you pissed off the wrong guy? Do y’really think I don’t understand that, Ford? I understand that better than anybody. I understand that better than I’m willing to admit.” 

One final pause, and then Ford sighs heavily enough that Stan can feel the tension slumping off of his body.  Stan finally releases his grip on him, and Stan is hugely relieved to notice that Ford’s posture already looks significantly more relaxed. 

“You’re right,” Ford mumbles, and stretches his arms into the air to try and release any extra remaining tension. “You’re right,” he repeats, and nervously scratches at his chin. “Plus, uh…it probably would be easier to deal with this alongside someone else. I’ve…” he trails off, as if too embarrassed to finish. “I’ve been alone with my…thoughts for far too long. Some human company might do me some good.” 

Stan snorts. “Ha! Listen to yourself. Human company might do me some good. If I’d shown up any later you would’ve turned into a full-time nerd robot!”

Ford cracks the tiniest of smiles at that, whether he’s aware of it or not, and then it’s right back to business as usual. “Alright, fine. You got me.” He rubs at the back of his head. “There’s…someone after me. Someone who wants me dead. I don’t really know how to explain it to you, but it wasn’t exactly…me that called you the other night. I mean, it technically was, since I was the one who was speaking, but it was more like…he was forcing me to say those things. There’s something of mine that he wants, but I’m afraid that if he gets his hands on it, it’s going to hurt a lot of people. No, scratch that, I know it’s going to hurt a lot of people. I know that, and he knows that, and that’s why he wants it. But that’s also why I refuse to give it to him. It’s a big vicious game of cat and mouse. He wants it, I don’t give it to him, he retaliates with violence. There’s no winning.” He takes a deep breath, clearly trying his damn hardest not to spiral again. “Either I give him what he wants or he kills me taking it by force.” He buries his face into his hands. “I can’t do it.” He whimpers. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“...Bullshit.” 

Stan doesn’t even realize he’d blurted that out loud until Ford pulls his face from his hands to stare at him slack-jawed. “Come again?” 

“I said that’s total bullshit.” Stan replies, firmly standing his ground. “Listen, Ford, I’ve been dealing with his type for a lot longer than I’m willing to admit, and lemme tell you something; that’s just what he wants you to think. He wants you to give up and assume everything’s hopeless, because the moment you lose hope and stop fighting is the moment he’ll strike. He wants you to think he’s got no weakness, because that makes it so much easier to exploit yours. Everyone’s got ‘em, Sixer, but only the cockiest and most powerful aren’t willing to admit that they’ve got ‘em, too. And you wanna know a secret? They don’t like to admit they’ve got weaknesses because they know what it does to them. They know the second anyone finds out about their weakness that they’re just like the rest of us. If we know their weaknesses, we can fight back, and that terrifies those suckers to their very core. That’s the kind of stuff that sends them running home to their mamas. If there’s even an inkling of a chance that someone’s gonna knock them off of their pedestal, or that nobody’s afraid of them anymore because we’ve got ‘em figured out, that’s what gets them. They get so obsessed over the power they have on others that they forget to stop and consider that others can have power over them.”

“I’m telling you, Sixer, no matter what this guy tries to convince you, he’s just sayin’ it to keep you complacent. He wants you to think he’s got no weakness because he’s terrified at the idea of losing his power over you. Once you stop letting him control you, he’ll have nowhere else to stand. Once he loses you, he loses everything. It’s not about whether or not you can fight back, it’s about how you’re gonna fight back. Because once you fight back and you take control, he’s gonna have nowhere to run, and then he’s gonna be the one backed into a corner. You can fight back. You can tell him no.”

“B-but-” 

“Up up up, I don’t wanna hear it” Stan waggles a finger in his face. “If I’m still alive after all I’ve been through, I sure as hell know that you’re gonna make it, too. If I can chew my way out of the trunk of a car and tunnel my way out of a Colombian prison using nothing but cheap plastic cutlery, you can break away from whatever hold this guy has on you. Don’t sit around and wait for this guy to strike, you gotta stand up and strike first. He’ll never see it coming.” He slaps Ford on the back. “You’re a smart guy, Sixer, I’m sure that you of all people could figure out how to outsmart this guy. 

Ford looks like he wants to believe him, like he wants to hope that things are gonna be okay, but there’s something that’s still tethering him to his fears. There’s the briefest spark of hope in his eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly as it arrived.

“I wish I could believe you, Stanley, but Bill, he’s-” Ford starts, but flinches like he’s been shot when he accidentally uses this other guy’s name. It breaks Stan’s heart to see his brother so fearful for his life, but it also makes his blood boil over with rage thinking about the power this guy’s got over him.

 What, is saying his name gonna summon him or something? Did this Bill guy plant bugged cameras all over the house so he could keep a constant eye on Ford so he’ll know if he’s ever thinking of pulling something over his eyes? Is that why Ford’s place is so trashed? Did he tear the place apart looking for secret cameras and hidden microphones? What gives?  

Ford freezes, as if he’s actually expecting this guy to kick his door in, and when nothing happens he audibly sighs in relief. 

Stan crosses his arms. “But what? This Bill guy’s supposed to be different? More powerful? I’m tellin’ ya, he’s no different than any of the other jerks I’ve had to deal with.” He jabs another finger in Ford’s direction. “And even if he was, by some chance? Even if this guy is somehow the most powerful and feared dictator in the whole universe, what’s the first thing I said when I got here?”

Ford goes to respond, but then his cheeks burn red and stops, a clear sign that he’s forgotten. 

“I said I’m here for you. I’m here because I want to help you. I could stand here and lecture you about crime lords all day, but nothing’s ever going to change if you don’t let me help you. I don’t care how big and tough this guy thinks he is! You’re my brother, Stanford. Nothing else matters more to me than my family. You even said it yourself earlier!” Stan throws his arms into the air in an exasperated manner. “Two heads are always gonna be better than one. Two pairs of fists are also always gonna be better in a fight. You don’t have to magically stop being afraid of this guy, but I’m telling you that it’s gonna be a lot easier if you have someone fightin’ the good fight with you. I wish I had someone when I was on the run from Rico and his gang.” 

Ford frowns. “Stanley…” 

“Point is,” Stan waves him off before he can go down a guilt-ridden spiral. “I’m not leaving. Matter of fact, I’m not asking you anymore. I’m telling you. I’m staying. Until we get this whole thing sorted out and send this Bill guy running for the hills, I’m not leaving. Protest all you want, but I’m gonna stay right here by your side until you feel safe again. Hell, I’ll even sleep on the front porch as lookout if you need me to! I’m tellin’ ya, I’m done asking nicely. I won’t let you kick me out this time, Ford. I’m here for ya through thick and thin.” 

For a few painstakingly long moments, Ford doesn’t respond. But he does look like he’s deep in thought, which is a hell of a lot better than all of the flinching and nervous pacing he’s been doing since Stan arrived. If nothing else, that in itself is a huge improvement. But before Stan can start again, Ford pulls a polaroid out of his trench coat pocket, and despite a gentle tear at the corner seemingly from age, it’s looking like the most well-kept object in the entire house. Stan doesn’t bother sneaking a peek out of fear of breaking what little trust he seems to successfully be rebuilding with Ford, but whatever it is seems to bring him a lot of comfort; he only looks at it for a moment, but those few moments are enough to sneak a soft, nostalgic sort of smile onto his face.

“You’re right,” Ford finally says, the calmest he’s sounded all day. “I don’t think there’s any way I could tackle this on my own. But with some help?” He smiles sheepishly. “I think there’s something we could do.”

“There he is!” Stan exclaims, grabbing his brother in a chokehold and giving his hair a rough noogie. “I knew my brother was still in there somewhere!” he grins, and tussles him up one more time before letting go. “And hey, maybe after all this is over you can give Ma a call, eh? She’s worried sick about you, I just know it.”

“Hah!” Ford laughs, tiny sparks of confidence returning to his tone and posture. “Now that’s someone I’m really afraid of upsetting.”

Stan grins, and gives Ford a gentle slug on the shoulder. As hard as Ford’s trying not to show it, Stan can tell he’s starting to enjoy the company. As much as Stan really doesn’t want to admit it, he was desperate for this kind of company again. He watches for a moment as Ford starts to go around cleaning some things off the floor, and Stan can’t help but crack a smile as he goes to join him.

If there’s one thing Stan does want to admit, it’s that he never wants to lose this sort of companionship ever again. Situation be damned, he has his brother back, and that’s more than any material goods he could ever ask for.

Given the situation?

Well, he said he’d stay until Ford wasn’t afraid of this Bill character anymore. But if things were completely up to Stan?

Stan won’t stop until the guy’s dead for daring to mess with his family. 

[ezdotjpg]

I have a silly little question about your silly little comic!! I love your versions of the Links so much. Loft is such a mood FOR REAL!!

anywho,

How did you come up with the original concept? If this is somewhat spoilery- then don’t answer it. But i’m more so wondering what let you to go

“i want to make a comic about the silly links accidentally breaking and fucking everything up. also trauma lots of trauma”

Did you come to the understanding of, looking at other peoples AU’s? Or was it something in the games itself? I’m just curious on what your thought process was when brainstorming originally yk?

Also, small bonus question/comment thingy

when making backgrounds- like Zelda and Wilds house or Lofts home with Zelda and Groose- did you base the backgrounds on your own ideas of what the characters would live in? Like if they’d have clutter or silly little notes in the background. I love how your backgrounds are just- chefs kiss- so simple but shows us a glimpse into the characters mental state (as all good rooms do *stares at my messy one*)

that is all, i very much so enjoy your comic. it’s gotten me through the bad Wednesdays of highschool. Keep going!!! i am excited to see it’s conclusion.

waugh thank you so much!!!!!

And I guess the answer to that first question is all of them above? Bonus Links is, of course, an extremely derivative work. LU was my first introduction to the links-meet-au format, so I’d be remiss not to give credit where credit is due! Probably many ideas I’ve absorbed from fics I’ve read, and headcanons I vibe with that come from the wider fandom. The idea for Bonus Link’s actual plot though originally started from my fascination with Skyward Sword’s lore. I know not everyone’s a huge fan of how much that game retconned, Demise’s “curse” in particular, but there’s a lot of ideas in that game that I find REALLY interesting, especially in ways that the game doesn’t really acknowledge at all. How would Skyward Sword Link feel, if he found out he truly didn’t finish the job? That the cycle continues on and on beyond him? That was the jumping off point.

Because it’s a cycle, I get a lot of ideas from like, which Links have experienced similar events, and how their experiences compare and contrast. What becomes history, and what actually happened? And I also use a lot of my own experiences playing the games as inspiration! I’d played as many as I had access to when I started the au in 2021, but I’ve made it my mission to play every single game a Link is featured in before they get introduced in the comic lol. Still got a few more to go, but I’m almost there!

As for the second question, absolutely! If I’m showing someone’s home in the comic, I try really hard to add details that tell you something about them. At the very least, I want them to look lived in lol

like, Slate still having the champion’s weapons on display in his house. Zelda’s mostly taken over the first floor as her workshop, even adding a Sheikah tech furnace somehow. She’s filled her room with pictures she’s taken on the walls. She’s got a sand seal plush from Riju, a Sheikah jacket from Impa. Her workspace is a little cluttered!

On the other hand, Slate’s room upstairs looks a little less personal. He’s got some pictures on the wall, and some plants growing from around hyrule (that Zelda has kind of commandeered for research lol) but otherwise he’s left it how Bolson and co furnished it. If anything, it’s mostly just for storage. He doesn’t actually spend much time sleeping here, but Zelda still doesn’t want to take it from him.

Loft, Groose and Zelda’s room is very cozy ( I should have added more blankets. Imagine like 4 times the amount of pillows and blankets) and tidy, but there’s still a little mess— shoes left out, basket of poorly folded clothes, etc. Cute knickknacks, mostly made by loft and groose! It’s not in this sc but groose’s comb is somewhere I think lol

Idk if iced shared this detail before, but Loft put a lot of effort into designing and carving (probably with some assistance) these columns for the house! Even though carving’s hard for him these days. It was his biggest contribution.

anyway, those are some of my thoughts!! I’m so happy to hear you’ve been enjoying the comic! Thanks for reading!!

[musings-of-a-rose]

Oh I have a good thought about Benny and Sparks. Based on this pic

Thinking about them having a lazy day at home. It's too hot to go outside. Benny has plans to make it hotter inside.

Lazy Day

Pairing:Benny Miller x "Sparks" f!reader from Light Me Up (link in notes)

Word Count: 900+

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: I freaking love these two and will always take asks or what ifs or whatever! It was really nice to be able to visit them again. Gosh, I miss them.

**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!)

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Light Me Up Masterlist (Where Benny and Sparks came from)

Benny Masterlist 

"I wish it wasn't so fucking hot outside!" You complain, turned backwards on the couch, leaning on the back of it with your head in your hands, staring wistfully out of the window. "I really wanted to go to that farmer's market today."

Benny pops open a bottle, the sound echoing through the quiet room as he takes a few gulps. "I know, Sparks. It's just too hot. Maybe next weekend?"

You sigh. "I'm not sure it will be there next weekend."

" 'm sorry, sweetheart." You hear him shuffle behind you, the glass bottle quietly thunking against the wooden coffee table as he sets it down.

His hands settle on your hips as he kneels behind you on the couch, pressing himself to your ass. "Do you know how hot you look in my shirts?"

He starts to slowly grind your ass against him, you being in the perfect position to rub him. He grunts, letting out a puff of air, his fingers digging a little deeper into your skin. "Sparks?" You answer by grinding back on your own, a quiet moan escaping you when you feel how hard he is. 

Benny scoots back off the couch but before you can complain, he's back, hooking his fingers in your panties as he yanks them off, tossing them somewhere in the room. You try to turn around but he grips your hips preventing you from moving. He moves you slightly, arching your back just a little before he presses his face to you, licking down you before sucking slightly on your clit. 

Your fingers twist into the couch, knuckles turning white as he starts to fuck you with his tongue. "Fuck, Benny!" But then he slides his fingers up, gently teasing your clit and you come, moaning out his name as he continues to touch you. 

Then he's moving, kneeling behind you again, pressing your upper back down so you're arching a different way. He hikes your shirt, well, his shirt, over your hips, digging his fingers into your hip to keep you still as he slowly pushes in, his own whimpers and moans joining those coming from your own mouth. "Fuck, Sparks, you always feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock." 

"Please, Benny. I need you to move, please," you're not above begging when he's fully inside of you, stretching you to your limits. 

His voice is low and raspy. "Yes, ma'am."

He sets a rough pace, fucking you into the couch, your hand slapping against the glass window in front of you to prevent you from smashing against it. Your mouth hangs open, his name spilling from it with every thrust as you reach back with your other hand, digging your nails into his ass, willing him deeper. He feels your desperate pull on him, adding an extra hard thrust of his hips, smiling when you cry out his name. A few thrusts later and your body tenses, pulsing around him as you come screaming his name, head thrown back in ecstasy. Benny comes a moment later, spilling into you, a mix of grunts and your name fumbling from him. 

You stay like that for a moment, sweat beading along your forehead while a few drops from Benny's face fall onto your back. He leans over you, pushing your shirt up higher to place kisses along your back. Eyes closed for a moment, you let out a contented sigh. But when your eyes open, your cheeks instantly catch fire. 

"H-hi, Mrs. Johnson!" You give the woman a wave as she glares at you, yelling at you to be ashamed. Benny's body starts shaking and then the laughter tumbles out of him, filling the room with it as you join him once he pulls out. 

"She told us to be ashamed!" You say through your laughter. 

"Ah she's just jealous," Benny says as he wipes the tears from his face. 

Using your hand you start to fan yourself, taking a few breaths. "Well that didn't help the heat."

"No, but I much prefer this heat," Benny waggles his eyebrows as he pulls you to him, kissing you deeply before putting his forehead to yours. 

"I love you, Sparks."

"Don't you mean Mrs. Miller?"

Benny groans, trailing kisses down your neck. "You tryin' to get me all hot again, Mrs. Miller?"

"What ever do you mean? I was just looking out the window and you took advantage of me."

He chuckles. "Is that so?"

"Mmhmm… but next time, it's my turn."

He pulls his head back to look down at you, his eyebrows raised. "Oh?"

Silently, you push him to the floor and show him exactly what you mean.

—----

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989  

[blueeyedgrlwrites]

Some Sunday Sentences, March 31, 2024

Happy Zombie Jesus Day to those who celebrate (and Happy Sunday to everyone else), and Happy Trans Day of Visibility. Trans lives matter, trans men are men, and trans women are women. Know that for all the hate in the world toward you there is an even greater amount of love for you.

Life is .... heavy. Right now. Not so much in what is going on, but just in the fact that there's literally always something. So, if you're struggling just know you're not alone. None of us is, and it's okay to not be okay. Take care of yourself however you need to.

On that note, the only fic I've added anything to since Wednesday is the @aroyallybigbangrwrb fic, (the only truth) everything comes back to you. Here's a little bit of a happy moment for you:

Alex melts into Henry as though he's felt that distance, too, his hands sliding back up Henry's chest and into his hair, nails gently scratching at the nape of his neck, and Henry lets himself believe they've turned a corner and everything will be okay. "I was going to just throw something together for dinner, but we can go somewhere or order in if you'd prefer. I'm flexible so it's up to you." Alex presses his forehead to Henry's, and Henry doesn't know when they started swaying on the spot to a silent melody, but he doesn't want it to end. Not yet. "Why don't we order in." Henry closes his eyes, breathes Alex in. "Perfect."

Thank you to @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @cha-melodius, @kiwiana-writes, @suseagull04, @bigassbowlingballhead, @taste-thewaste, and @captainjunglegym for the specific tags, and to @eusuntgratie for the open one.

No pressure/gentle nudge tags to: @anincompletelist @littlemisskittentoes @inexplicablymine @affectionatelyrs @read-and-write- @getmehighonmagic @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @happiness-of-the-pursuit @nocoastposts @three-drink-amy @rmd-writes @cactusdragon517 @sparklepocalypse @onthewaytosomewhere (apologies if any of you have already posted; if you have, share a link and I'll definitely reblog). As always, my tags are open so please tag me if I forgot to tag you or if you want to play along/share words. 🤍

[cornleychristmaschaos]

Cornley Christmas Chaos

Event Info:

Welcome to Cornley Christmas Chaos, a prompt based Fic Challenge revolving around The Goes Wrong-universe. Chaos is not a necessary ingredient in the fics themselves, but since it’s about the Cornley Crew it felt like an appropriate event name.

Useful Links:

Tumblr:

• 2024 Event Prompt List • 2024 Event Timeline

AO3:

• Cornley Christmas Chaos - AO3 Parent Collection • Cornley Christmas Chaos 2024 - AO3 Collection • How do I add a work to a collection? If the collection does not appear in the list, please put CornleyChristmasChaos2024 in the box and your work should be added.

Guidelines:

• Your fic(s) should be inspired by at least one of the prompts from this year’s prompt list. • The 12 Point Prompt List is open for any interpretation you wish, be it literal, metaphorical, or maybe the prompt is only mentioned in passing. It’s up to you! • The 13 Prompt, also known as The Quote Prompt, is our additional challenge. The quote provided must, in full, be included in your fic. How you choose to include it wholly up to you. • Mention which prompt(s) are included in your fics. This can be done in the summary, in the tagging, in an author’s note, or somewhere else. • Write as much or as little as you want to. Whether it be a drabble, or a 100k longfic, we all just want more fics to enjoy! • There will be no rules regarding which ratings are allowed, but please rate and tag accordingly. Especially if your fic includes heavier topics. • Please tag Cornley Christmas Chaos 2024 or mention @CornleyChristmasChaos in your tumblr posts if you wish to be reblogged.

If you have any questions or is confused by anything, please feel free to send a message or an ask, and I’ll do my best to answer.

[seblaineworld]

Hey, Seblainers! Hellooooo, everyone else!

10 Days Of Seblaine 2024

26 days to go, so without further ado, here's what you need to know:

The Rules

When?

The event runs from Monday, 26th August until 23:59 (of your own timezone) on Wednesday, 4th September 2024.

Who can take part?

Anyone and everyone who shares our love of Seblaine!

What can we submit?

Anything, as long as it is Seblaine-related! Fics, Graphics, Gifs, Gifsets, Videos, Manips, Playlists, Lyrics - anything you like as long as it fits the themes! I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone comes up with.

Please remember to use #seblaineworld and #10daysofseblaine2024 within the first five tags, and also put @seblaineworld in your posts, since we all know just how flaky Tumblr can be about tags!

Be sensible and considerate. We are all well aware that not everyone shares our love of Seblaine, and even within our own tiny (but always fierce!) Seblainer Fandom, there are those who don't enjoy mature content, so please ensure you tag everything you submit, appropriately.

Can I cross-post/combine themes?

Yes! You can combine any of the themes that you want. And if your contribution does combine multiple themes, you can post on whichever day you prefer. Just remember, if your contribution covers one or more themes, then properly tag all days, regardless of which day you actually post on.

Do I need to submit something for every day?

Absolutely not. If you want to contribute something for every day, then of course you can, but it's not a requirement at all. I know everyone has busy lives, so just do what you can when you can.

Can I post a WIP or work if it fits the themes, even if I started it weeks/months/years before the Seblaine Week 2024 announcement?

Absolutely! Your Admin has done this before and feels it's a great way to refresh creativity and blow the cobwebs off that piece you just KNOW you'll finish one day, but never quite seem to have the time. So feel free to post anything you've already started - providing it fits one of the themes!

On that note, do remember that the free day is exactly that. A day on which you can write about/create for, any theme you like! Did your favourite theme just narrowly miss out on being in the top 10? If so, here's your chance to do something about it and make a submission using that theme!

When do we start posting?

As soon as it becomes Monday 26th August in your own timezone, post your work to your Tumblr blog, and as mentioned above, please tag it #seblaineworld and #10daysofseblaine2024 then make sure those two are in your first five tags. Please also put @seblaineworld somewhere in your post.

If you're going to be posting your work to another site like AO3 or ff.net, post a properly tagged link on your Tumblr.

A 10 Days Of Seblaine 2024 collection will be added to AO3.

Can I post early?

Sorry, no. 🙃 Tumblr, however, does let you schedule posts so you can schedule the post for the right day, even if you're not going to be around that day. Of course this gets a little harder to navigate if you’re also posting to another site like AO3/ff.net, so if this is going to be a problem, let me know and I'll figure it out.

Can I post late?

Yes! I know how time can occasionally run away from us all, so as long as everything is tagged properly you can post (for example) your day 3 piece on day 7 and that won't be a problem. Everything posted will be reblogged until Friday, September 27th.

You haven't reblogged my work yet!

No problem! Again, because Tumblr can be (very!) erratic, just send me an Ask or message if I haven't reblogged your work within 24 hours of you posting it, and I will get onto it right away.

So, that's it for now! I'm excited to see all your work, and I hope you'll join me for our second bumper celebration of Seblaine. Just drop me an Ask or message if you have a question that's not addressed here, and I'll see you all on the 26th!

Ail 💜

[ryndicate]

Reckless ⨳ Hanemiya Kazutora

Sometimes, you really do know better.

notes: written in response to this request/ask. Alright hades we're seeing if tumblr will cooperate this time, fingers crossed. Even if it doesn't though, I promise I'll leave it this time. I'm just happy with how the fic came out

warnings: female reader, drugs/drugging, alcohol,noncon, in this reader is shy, an absolute fangirl and absolutely not a party girl.

By expanding, you are consenting to viewing adult/dark content, and all warnings listed above. 18+ Minors DNI

Rules & Main Links

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" You hiss at your friend, tugging on the much-to-short skirt she'd pressured you into wearing tonight, desperately trying to make sure your ass is covered as the people who move past keep jostling you, threatening to expose you less than socially acceptable undergarments. 

She's tapping her foot, full of excited jitters as she turns her head constantly, looking for her so called "hook up".

You're both waiting where she said he agreed to meet, but it's been nearly twenty minutes since the encore ended.

"Don't be a baby! He said he's friends with the band. When are we ever gonna get a chance like this again?"

"If you're sure I guess," you mutter, pressing closer to her as another wave of concert goers shove past you guys to exit the venue. "We still have a ride home right?"

"—There they are!" Your friend squeals under her breath, palms smoothing over her clothes with anxious excitement.

You swivel your head to see where she's looking and your mouth dries out. Holy shit, she wasn't kidding. Heading right for you guys is the charming blonde who claimed to be tight with band, and following close behind him is their drummer, Keisuke, and he's way hotter in person.

Anxiety simmers in your gut; you don't see him yet, but reality hits that you might actually get to meet your favorite musician, the man you so desperately wanted to see on stage if only for an hour that you begged your friend to get tickets with you to come here tonight.

Kazutora. You would have been satisfied just fine with getting to see him from beneath the stage, only a few rows back and thankfully no giants to block your view. His command of the crowd, bright smiles but fierce energy as he sang so hard his throat probably bled, sweat dripping down every inch of exposed inked skin, and a cunning smirk that would burn in your fantasies for months to follow... yeah it would have been enough.

But in person? Speaking to him? Your heart is fluttering in your throat, and sudden giddiness evaporates all your previous misgivings in an instant.

Your breath is caught up in your throat as they approach you, deep amber and striking green giving both of you slow, appreciative once-overs. 

Keisuke turns back and gives you a hard stare, your heart thumping, and glances at his friend—you still can’t remember his name—grinning. “Perfect score, ‘Fuyu.”

A bolt of unease tempers your thready pulse, but you brush it aside as your friend cuts in, giving a sickening pout at Chifuyu (his name came back to you the moment Keisuke uttered the nickname) about how long he made you wait. Really you would have rolled your eyes if you weren’t just as eager to hear his response.

“Sorry,” Chifuyu grins, glancing between you both. “Things got a little crazy after the final set ended. Hope you don’t mind?”

“It’s fine,” you murmur shyly, your friend echoing behind you.

“We could make it up to you,” Keisuke cuts in with a low rumble, and you’re struck by his voice, smooth and deep, for a moment your mind wandering to why he’s never added his vocals to any of their songs. His voice would blend really well with Kazutora’s higher baritone. Thoughts getting away from you, you miss the part where the two men are inviting you somewhere.

“—you in?”

Keisuke ducks his head a little, forcing eye contact and your eyes refocus in time to see him quirk his brow at your silence. 

Heat flames to your face as you scramble to answer, but your friend digs her elbow into your side. “Of course!”

“Yeah?” Keisuke drawls, amused, tipping his head as he looks at you again.

Helplessly, you nod, giving him a wavering smile. 

He takes that with a nod, throwing an arm over your shoulders to help you move back through the crowd, and your mind goes blank. What did you just agree to? Where are you going now? You want to look back at your friend, but you can hear her chattering away with Chifuyu behind you, sounding blissful and unbothered, so surely it can’t be that bad?

You’re led past the stage, through a chaotic whirl of people and moving equipment until you’re standing in front of what looks like a dressing room.

“You guys can hang out in here while we finish up and then we’ll go, yeah?”

“Sure!” you friend chirps, and they depart.

“What’s happening?” You demand the moment they’re out of earshot.

“What’s with you? They invited us to a party! There’s going to be other bands there, famous people!” She squeals, bouncing a little, completely thrilled. 

But you’re hesitant. This sounds way bigger than what you’d imagined, maybe going backstage and getting to meet Kazutora and get an autograph, a handshake at best? “I don’t know... should we go? Big parties aren’t really my thing. It sounds kinda…—”

“Are you insane? Of course we’re going!” She stares at you like you’ve lost it, and her reaction is so genuine that you question yourself. It wouldn’t hurt just once right? A few drinks, over a couple of hours, getting to meet a few famous people you never dreamed you would? That kind of thing is supposed to be the memories you look back on when you’re done being young and wild.

“Fine, just don’t get too crazy with it, okay?” you plead, grabbing her arm. 

“Aw, not even a little crazy?”

You stiffen, pulse going haywire as rich, teasing voice speaks up from behind you, where the dressing room door had previously been closed.

You’ve listened to his songs for hundreds, thousands, of hours of your life, watched interviews, fan recordings, binged his one movie documentary more times than you can count—you’d know his voice in the blinding dark, but it’s surreal to hear it directly, unaided by a speaker.

Kazutora. You turn to see him and are struck dumb by how attractive he is in person, blonde and black hair framing his face and spilling down his shoulders. He’s still in his clothing from the show, fraying black jeans slung low on his hips, his signature beige-white jacket hanging off his shoulder, and a black button up, the buttons popped all the way down to his sternum, cuffed at his elbows. It’s a simple look, an understated one. One you know very well not many are capable of. Expensive, if you know what to look for; in the way the shirt drapes over his chest and around his arms, in the perfectly precise way his jeans taper down to the ankle, not an inch of denim out of place.

Your eyes track the swirling ink that leads from his neck, down his chest and disappearing further beneath the fabric and try to remember to breathe. “H-hi.”

“Hi,” Kazutora laughs, and the sound dissolves some of your tension. He leans out the doorway to look left and right. “I assume Keisuke invited you, unless I need to call security again.”

His easy tone is enough to unwind your nerves a bit as you nod. “He said something about a party.”

“And you’re going with him? That’s a shame, I’m way more fun.” His eyes are suddenly bright and focused, voice light and playfully coaxing, and you can barely believe it. That was flirting right? He’s your idol and you’re aware of how lovesick you are but there’s no mistaking that right? That was real? He really—

“Keisuke and his friend said they’d hang out with me,” your friend cuts in confidently, nudging you surreptitiously towards the lead singer. “She’s not spoken for.”

“Oh? You want to be spoken for, princess? ‘Cause I’ve got no one to keep me company tonight, sure would suck to party by myself.” Kazutora grins teasingly, leaning against the doorframe now. 

You swallow and struggle to speak, miserably anxious that you can’t at least appear normal and somewhat collected.

“Mmm, she’s the quiet and cute type, huh,” Kazutora winks at you, turning to your friend, and it feels like he’s trying to help you out.

“That’s her!” Your friend agrees wholeheartedly. “She’s great when she opens up though.”

“I bet.” His tone drops an octave and something warm twists low in your stomach when you see the low lidded look he’s tossing your way. “So what’d’ya say?”

“Sure,” you breathe, finally finding your voice. 

He gives you the biggest smile, just in time for his friends to reappear, and the winning smile falls back into the smirk you usually see onstage that gives him his cunning reputation. “Thanks guys. We ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Yup, car’s ready.”

He reaches a hand out for you, that you take in a daze, not quite able to believe this is real life right now, noting how much length his fingers have on yours, his nail polish shiny and miraculously unchipped despite playing guitar on and off for most of the show.

“Let’s go then.”

After arriving at the party, in a sprawling condo overlooking the city that puts your one bedroom apartment to a crying shame, Kazutora had left you on a couch in the thick of the people there, promising to be right back with a drink for you. Your friend had disappeared with Chifuyu and Keisuke not long after, and after checking your phone reflexively for the fourth time, you come to the crushing conclusion that Kazutora probably forgot about you.

Which in your mind makes sense. With all the people around you, much better dressed and more suited to be here, you’re not sure you would have come back for you either, if you’d been in their place. 

But your friend isn’t answering her phone and you have no idea where you are to even begin calling a ride service, even if your phone weren’t on three percent battery life. 

You barely have the confidence to stand from the couch, but you do, the sudden desperate urge to escape this letdown of a situation stronger than your social anxiety.

With how many people there are, and the loud, disorienting music, you struggle to make your way through to another room, and come face to face with the sight of people cutting up lines of white powder on a glass coffee table. You knew that this kind of crowd lived a life beyond your imagining but it’s strange to see it up close, your stomach twisting into nervous knots as you scamper into a hallway filled with more people.

It’s less crowded here though, so you take a moment to lean against the wall and breathe, trying to even out your fiercely beating heart. 

Your head whips up when you hear your name being called, hoping your friend has found you, hoping you can finally end this miserably disappointing night—

Kazutora stops in front of you, a concerned look twisting his handsome features. “Whoa, hey, hey, you alright? I went looking for you, but you were gone. Are you feeling okay?”

There’s two drinks in his hand that he looks down at, before tossing one back with two easy swallows and setting the glass right on the hallway floor to free one of his hands, taking yours and leading you further down the hallway, into a small room that’s suddenly much quieter. You can still hear the thumping bass in the distance, but it’s like you can finally hear your own thoughts and you take a deep breath.

“You okay?” Kazutora asks again, setting the other glass down on a low-rise table next to a plush looking chaise.

“I’m fine,” you finally manage, looking up at him with a wan smile. “Just got a little overwhelmed. Never been somewhere like this before.”

“I’m sorry,” he winces, looking abashed. “I didn’t think I was gone that long, should’ve known better.”

“It’s alright...”

“Still want the drink? It’ll help you feel better, take the edge off,” Kazutora offers, still looking guilty.

“Sure. I’m fine really.” Suddenly feeling bad that you’re causing such a fuss, you reach for it, and take a deep swig. If you knew more about alcohol, maybe you’d be able to tell the difference between cheap and expensive, but you’ve never been good with the stuff, so it’s still just bitter, still just burns.

It’s warm though, and you feel a bit of your worries ease away as something light begins to trickle through your veins, and you tip the rest back to get the full experience. “Thanks, I needed that actually.”

“Yeah?” Kazutora’s grin slowly returns, darker in a way that you don’t notice, eyeing you intently as your eyelids droop. “Want another then?”

You feel that little tickle of doubt again, but when he wraps an arm around your waist, you stubbornly push it aside. Live for the moment right? So you accept the next drink he pushes into your hand, and the next one. And the one after that even though the room went fuzzy around the edges a little while ago. You go with him when he leads you back towards the music, and you lean into him when he pulls you against his chest, his fingers digging tight into your hips as he guides you to grind back on him. You don’t question him when he takes you upstairs, and there’s no protest when he pulls you into a dimly lit room with a bed fit for angels, the sheets a warm coffee brown that feel so soft you could probably slide right off of them.

But you don’t, just sinking into them as a heavy warm haze sinks in around you, leaving you warm and pliant. 

“One more for me, baby? Yeah?” His hands are at the back of your head, propping it up as he tips another glass to your lips—where did he even get this one? You feel a warning flicker in your mind that urges you to push it away, and you feebly try, but your limbs feel wrong, too heavy, and you miss. Cool glass meets your lips, and you feel the burn of liquid against your tongue and try to turn away. You’ve never felt like this before, and it’s starting to get scary. No, you’ve had enough. Even a little bit more would be too much.

The glass leaves your lips and you feel relief until Kazutora sits you up at the edge of the bed, sliding behind you and letting his legs frame your thighs. His hands are on your throat, forcing you chin up, and he’s cooing something in your ear, but you can’t hear it anymore. You thrash he forces your head back and the last drink down your throat. A fair bit misses, spilling down your neck and chest, staining your shirt in the process, but the damage is done

“Don’t make such a mess, princess, c’mon now,” feral enjoyment bathes his tone and there’s a heady fear and helplessness in your veins now, flames licking down your body as he traces the spilt rivulets down your throat with point of his tongue.

You whimper.

Something soft, hot is pressing to your inner thigh, a warm pressure inside you, and your legs shift sluggishly, trying to escape the feeling. 

“Mmn—” you try to say something, but it comes out a hum and you struggle to raise your head, not remembering laying back down in the bed.

“That feel good?”

You blink through a thick fog to see Kazutora kneeling between your thighs, watching as he nips at your thighs again, wiping wet fingers on them, his warm skin causing you to notice your missing skirt, left in only the black thong your friend said would be fun to wear. His lips inch up over your hips, pressing to your stomach and you realize that the tiny little thong is the only bit of clothing you’re wearing.

“Kazu…” you slur brokenly, head falling back to the bed. “No—”

His weight settles over your body, and you feel something warm and hard pulsing against your stomach, a broken whine sounding deep in your throat as you realize what is is.

“You’re gonna feel so good, baby. Knew you would from the moment I saw you. Innocent girls like you always do.” His breath is warm on your neck, teeth nipping at sensitive skin as he presses hot kisses to your throat and chest.

He maneuvers your thighs over his own, his dick sliding over your exposed pussy as he pulls the fabric of your thong aside.

“Don’t…” You whisper.

It’s like he can’t hear you. Maybe he doesn’t. Did you actually say something? You can’t even feel your tongue.

Kazutora sinks his length into you with a throaty groan, his head tipping back to display his adam’s apple, a crazed smile on his lips. Your hips jerk at the rough intrustion, a pitched keen tearing from your lips at the thick stretch, cracking in the middle.

“Fucking perfect,” he breathes, watching your tits bounce as he thrusts into you, setting a quick, rough pace right away. 

You search for the strength to do something, to move your arms, to shove him off—something—only to find your arms secured tightly to the bed, some kind of navy fabric strap pinning you down. 

A broken wail tugs at your throat as his fingers press down on your clit, through the wet fabric of your thong to keep the stimulation from become too intense. Huffs and moans and sobs waterfall from your mouth with nothing to stop them as he abuses your body in its weakened state, a heat spiraling through your body as he works you over. Your body comes hard and there’s nothing to ease you through it as your thighs shake, your muscles rippling. You close your eyes to the heady assault, trying not to sink through the bed as the thick cloud wisping over your body immediately tries to carry you away.

Kazutora’s groans get heavier, less staggered, ripping through his chest with each wet smack of his hips to the back of your thighs. “Yes, fuck yes, yeah - y-yeah, hah fuck,” his last curse is a laugh, an extended, broken laugh as he slams into you one last time, sinking deep and filling your belly with a hot pool of sticky warmth.

“I fucking needed that,” he slurs, collapsing over your chest and nuzzling up under your jaw. “Thanks, baby.”

© All rights reserved to @ryndicate. Do not modify, translate, or repost.

[agentwhiskeysdarlin]

Reunited

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: TLOU typical violence, mentions of injury, pain medication use, outbreak night events (from readers pov), sorry to the Joel and Tess shippers out there, Sarah’s death, angst but fluff

Word Count: 4k

Author’s Notes: FINALLY BACK!!! This writers block didn’t last nowhere near as long as the last one and it feels good to be typing this right now. I do think in the future I will intentionally take January off to reset and rest my brain. I hope everyone has been well!! This is my first ever Joel fic so please be nice!! Thanks to @clint-aww-no-barton​ as always! With a new wave of fans coming in if you want to be added (or removed) from my taglist please please let me know!!

ao3 link 

  The world was so broken. It had been like this for 20 years now, but every single time you moved outside of the walls of a city it hit you all over again. You panted as you moved one foot in front of the other, pain shooting up your left leg with each step. Boston was now maybe a mile away in front of you. You paused, taking it in, before making yourself keep moving. Finally you were in view of guards who came rushing to you, guns drawn as usual.

  “I’m not sick,” your voice betrayed you as you raised your arms.

  “Any exposed injuries?!” One guard yelled from the distance they kept.

  “No,” you spoke shaking your head with your word. “I think my left leg is broken somewhere. I’m not sure. I just know it hurts like hell.”

  The guards came to you then, calmly, which was not something you experienced often. You knew all the normal procedures that came next, but you couldn’t care less, you just wanted off your feet. They took you to a room once you crossed the walls, patted you down and scanned you, green shining back into the dim room.

  “Well, looks like you’re not sick. I’ll get someone to look at that leg.” One of the guards spoke with a sweeter tone than most.

  “Thank you,” your words came out soft and full of exhaustion.

  Water and a sandwich was shoved into your hands, which you devoured. The moment you took your last sip of water, a man walked in who was definitely a doctor.

  “What did you do to it?” He spoke softly as he moved your leg slightly.

  You let out a scream at the pain that shot through you, the guard in the room jumping.

  “Do that again and I’ll kick you in the face,” you spoke through gritted teeth.

  “I do have to do my job,” he snapped back eyeing you with a sharp look.

  “I did it after I left the last place I was at. I was being chased by infected and tripped. I was in pain but I had to get up and keep going.”

  “Well good news is, it’s not broken but you do have a severe strain, maybe even torn ligaments. I’m going to wrap it up but once you get into a room I want you off it.”

  “Yeah like that’s going to happen. We don’t have the luxury of things like resting anymore.”

  “You do and will.”

  You rolled your eyes but braced yourself as he started to wrap your leg. Your knuckles turned white and you swore you were going to break your teeth as you clenched them through the pain.

  “Come on I’ll take you to the apartment building you’ll be staying in,” the guard who had been keeping watch since you got here started to help you from the table. 

  “Easy easy.”

  You wrapped your arm around her and she held you tight against her as the two of you started to walk slowly and carefully. You were mostly silent as she walked you through the city. It all looked the same as the other cities you had lived, in just different faces. Eyes watched you, people paused as you passed by. A new person was in their midst and she was being helped by a guard. Finally the two of you came to the building and slowly made your way up the stairs inside.

  “I need a minute,” you panted as you backed yourself up against a wall just inside.

You rested your head back on the wall and closed your eyes, trying to calm your breathing and pounding heart rate. The pain still coursing through you had only slightly subsided thanks to the wrap now on it. You were going to have to find out how to get pain medication around here and soon.

  “You think you can move again?” The guard spoke and with your eyes still closed you nodded your head.

  The next few moments seemed to move in slow motion. Your eyes opened and before you could even push yourself off the wall you saw him. There was no mistaking him even after all these years. You felt tears spring into your eyes almost too shocked to speak.

  “Joel?”

  His name came out softer than you wanted but he still stopped dead in his tracks and then turned to you. You could see the hardness like armor around him but his face went from tensed to shocked. His eyes met yours and you could tell he couldn’t find his words. So many emotions came crashing over you and you wanted to fall to the ground, you wanted to cry but more than anything you wanted his arms wrapped around you. To be sure he was real. You pushed yourself off the wall and the two of you stood there for too long just looking at each other. No doubt he was thinking the same as you. Were you dreaming? You knew you weren’t. This was real. After all this time you had found your way back to each other just as you promised that night. 

*outbreak night*

  You had driven straight to their house. You didn’t even fully have the car in park before you were out of it and running towards it. The neighborhood was already in an uproar, along with the rest of the city and it seemed nightfall was making things worse. You noticed the door open and stopped short, slowly making your way inside.

  “Joel?! Sarah?!” You yelled their names but got no responses.

  You gulped, feeling your stomach fall, but no you wouldn’t believe the worst, not yet. Then it felt like everything happened at once. You heard a scream, turning and taking off back out of the house in time to see Sarah stunned into stillness as her neighbor went rabid. Just before she lunged at Sarah, before you could jump to her rescue, Tommy’s truck came crashing onto the curb, both men were out and Joel had killed the woman. Everyone seemed to freeze in that moment realizing what was happening was real.

  “You killed her…” Sarah let out a sob and Joel was to her in second.

  “I know baby girl. I’m so sorry but I had to,” he breathed and then he looked at you. “Are you okay?”

  All you could do was nod. Your heart was racing and you could feel the panic creeping up. You looked at Sarah and pushed it down then glanced back at Joel. The two of you communicated silently, that there would be a time to have your own moments later. What mattered now was getting somewhere safe.

  “Both of you get in. We gotta go,” Joel spoke suddenly and you all made for the truck.

  You slid into the backseat with Sarah who whimpered slightly as she grabbed your arm.

  “Hey it’s going to be okay kiddo. Buckle up,” you nodded at the seatbelt on her side.

  She buckled and so did you before you had grabbed on to each other once again. You tried to keep her calm as Tommy flew through the streets. Him and Joel kept going back and forth about where to go, which way would be better. Everything seemed a blur. A burning house to your left, a family pleading for help on your right. Every car in Texas on the highway that was your way out. Across a field with a sharp turn only to be met with military. Another jerk to the right and you were heading straight for the city. You could see the flames already licking the sky in the distance. You had no idea what was going to happen or where you were going to go. You held Sarah with a harder grip as Tommy flew into the city. Everything was pure chaos. Other cars flew around you along with people running from other people who seemed to be crazed. They were attacking people, killing then. And then ,moments later the dead got up and took off after more. You watched in pure shock and fear until your head flew forward with a sudden stop.

  “Tommy back up!! Back up!!”

  Joel was yelling. Tommy was yelling back. Sarah was speaking over them and you sat in silence. You looked behind you as Tommy flew in reverse and was met with a sight that finally made the entire thing click. Airplanes were falling from the sky, they came closer and closer to the ground until one hit and the entire world seemed to explode. You grabbed Sarah moments before something hit the truck and the world went black.

  “(Y/N).”

  The simple word snapped you back to reality. You gazed into Joel’s eyes and then you were moving to each other. He pulled you into his arms and you wrapped yours tightly around his neck. You buried your face in his shoulder, taking in the familiar scent of him. The tears ran down your face even with you trying so hard to hold them back.

  “I can’t believe this,” he spoke softly in your ear. “I…I didn’t…”

  “Think I’d ever see you again? I know,” you smiled, with a chuckle of disbelief as you stood back.

  His hands came up to your cheeks and his brown eyes searched your face over before making their way down your body. Then he snapped back up and his eyes went to the guard who still stood there, watching the entire thing.

  “I’ve got her from here. Thank you,” Joel spoke softly and he had you picked up bridal style in seconds.

  “Thank you,” you spoke softly to the guard as she handed your key over. With a soft smile she simply gave you a nod before leaving.

  Joel carried you up a few flights of stairs and then gently set you down keeping your weight on him. He dug out a key and unlocked the door and the two you stepped into, what you assumed, was his apartment.

  “Let’s get you propped up on the couch and I’ll get you some water and some medicine.”

  “You have pain meds?”

  “I got plenty of pain meds,” he smirked as he eyed you and carefully lowered you to the couch.

  You leaned back letting out a sigh with a slight smile at him. He picked up a pillow and sat it under your leg, earning a hiss from you.

  “I’m sorry,” his words were soft.

  “It’s okay,” you watched him.

  You couldn’t take your eyes off him as he moved around the apartment. You had waited for this moment for years. You had lost hope too many times to count, thinking he had to be dead or the world was still just too big to find him. When he came back to you his eyes met yours and he smirked his eyebrows pulling together.

  “What is it?”

  “I just…I never thought I’d find you again. I’m not missing a moment,” you spoke as you took the water and pills from him.

  “I…I still can’t really believe you are here. I have to be honest I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. What happened after we…”

  “Got separated?” A simple nod from him, as he sat on the coffee table across from you and took your hand. “I’ll be honest I don’t want to talk about that right now. I just…I just need to be. I just need to be with you. I need to know for sure you’re not going to disappear on me again.”

The two of you let out an understanding sigh and Joel nodded. “I understand. We will talk more later.”

  He brushed a piece of your hair back behind your ear and his fingers trailed down your cheek gently. Tears welled in your eyes and you forced them to not fall. The two of you just sat there, looking at each other until keys were turning in his lock. You looked from the door, back to him in question.

  “We have a lot to talk about. Just…it’s okay.” He rushed the words out, panic clear on his face.

  Then a woman was walking through the door. She stopped just inside her eyes glancing from you to Joel and back. Silence filled the room and dread filled you. He had moved on. He had found someone else and now you…you had came all this way for nothing.

  “Is this (Y/N)?” She seemed to smile just slightly, the corners of her mouth turning up.

  How did she know your name?

  “It is. Uh, this is Tess,” he spoke his hand rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous tick of his.

  “Can we talk Joel?” She spoke before you could even utter a word.

  Joel simply nodded and walked behind her into the hallway. You knew you were going to hear every word they said and it made your stomach turn.

  “Tess I…she just showed up.”

  “Joel don’t it’s okay. I knew this day could always come. It’s always been her and it always will be. Let her stay with you and I’ll take her apartment.”

  “Tess…”

  “Joel you know I’m right. This…this was two lonely people keeping each other from falling apart. You still talk about her, you still call her name in your sleep. I know you still love her I can see it all over your face. It’s okay. We can still work together, but I understand. If it would have been….” She broke off for a second. “I know you would do the same thing.”

  Silence once again and you held your breath.

  “You’re right. I…I can’t turn her away. I…”

  “I know,” Tess spoke and you heard her kiss him whether on the lips or cheek you had no idea, but even in the moment it still made your stomach drop.

  The door opened and the two of them stepped back into the room. You didn’t realize until that moment that you had tears falling down your face.

  “I’m sorry,” your voice broke as it whispered the words to the both of them.

  “There is nothing for you to be sorry about.” Tess spoke to you and then she took your apartment key, that was sitting on the coffee table, and she was out the door.

  It shut behind her and you watched the door for a long moment before you looked at Joel. You didn’t stop the sob that broke from you and your hand covered your mouth. You had just came in and ruined everything he had. You felt sick.

  “I am so sorry Joel,” you spoke through the tears.

  He physically seemed to fall apart. Tears sprung in his eyes and he was down on his knees by the couch taking your face in his hands.

  “No no my sweet girl. There is nothing at all you need to feel sorry about. She was right. We were just keeping each other afloat and she knew if you ever came back to me that it wouldn’t be a decision. It has and always will be you. My love for you has never stopped. I just lost hope.”

  The he brought you to his lips and the two of you kissed. You melted into him and nothing else mattered anymore. You were with the man you loved finally. He pulled away, his forehead resting on yours as he wiped away the tears that had fallen.

  “Let’s get washed up and I’ll fix us some dinner and then we can get to bed.”

  “Sounds perfect,” you only whispered the words too afraid to really speak.

  You had no idea how two people separated for so long could simply fall back into line with each other, but it was easy for Joel and yourself. He had washed himself while you rested and then helped you to wash up. He had changed you into some of his clothes, promising to get you some more the next day. Then he fixed food for the two of you while you sat at his small table watching him. You both exchanged mellow stories of your time apart over the meal. Even with the events of the day it felt comfortable, familiar, normal. He helped you to bed and the two of you curled together on the mattress. He pulled you to him kissing the top of your head.

  “You want to talk about what happened now?” He spoke after a few moments of silence.

  You knew how it felt to wonder what had happened. You revisited that night entirely too often. Trying to figure out exactly what went wrong but the answer was simple. Everything had gone wrong. You had thought you were going to get out, up until the wreck.

*outbreak night*

  Your hearing came back first. Everything was muffled but the chaos was still rampant. You could barely hear your name being spoken by more than one person and then Sarah’s name. It was being repeated like a record player and finally you pushed the darkness of unconsciousness away and your eyes fluttered open. You were upside down, asphalt under your back and Tommy’s truck trapping you underneath it. You started to slowly move your limbs making sure nothing was broken. Your arm sent a shooting pain through you and you grit your teeth. At least it wasn’t your legs. You pushed yourself one armed out from under the truck meeting Joel and Sarah on the same side.

  “Can you walk baby girl?”

  You turned to Joel and Sarah and you glanced over them both. Joel was scratched up, blood coming from various places but all together he looked fine enough. Sarah on the other hand clearly had a twisted ankle. You grimaced at the sight, trying to move your arm. It wasn’t broke or at least not fully but you didn’t bother to keep pushing it. Sarah answered Joel with a no and he had her in his arms in a second. He turned to you glancing you over.

  “I’m fine. I think my arm is fucked but I’m okay.”

  Joel nodded and then turned to Tommy. Then in a second an ambulance came flying by wrecking Tommy’s truck further and separating the three of you from him.

  “I’m alright! Go! I’ll catch up with you!”

  “Tommy…”

  “Go!”

  Without another word the three of you turned and heading down the alley you had been trapped in. You stopped dead in your tracks when the sight in front of you opened up. Joel was next to you looking on in horror. A man was eating another and you gulped before he looked up. His body contorted strangely and then he was up.

  “Run,” Joel spoke simply and you took off into a restaurant.

  You flew through the place as fast as your legs could carry you, Joel and the sick man behind you. You flew through the place to a field on the other side of the city. Then there was gunfire and the man fell to the ground dead. You paused seeing a solider standing there his weapon lowered. Joel stopped beside you. Joel thanked him and then things seemed to move in slow motion. He spoke into his radio and your stomach fell to your feet. He seemed to argue with someone on the other side, mentioned a child and a woman. He wasn’t winning whatever that argument was and it was clear in his final words. You backed up and Joel glanced at you in confusion but then he seemed to freeze completely as the man brought his gun back up. You had no idea what happened in the next few moments. There was gunfire, you scattered falling to the ground and then there was Tommy in the distance, the solider dead. You slowly got up testing and checking your body. You hadn’t been shot and you let out a breath. You took off toward Joel and that’s when you heard him scream.

  “Tommy help me!”

  Sarah. No. You stopped just in front of Tommy. Joel held her and she didn’t look back at you. Her eyes were closed. She was gone. You fell to the ground, a sob ripping from you. And then you were crawling to him. You wrapped your arms around the back side of her. Joel and yourself held her as you both cried. Your heart had shattered. A part of you gone. A part of the man you loved gone. You were going to be sick. You turned quickly losing the contents of your stomach into the grass.

  “We have to go.” Tommy spoke slowly.

  You glanced at him knowing how right he was. You stayed too much longer and you would be dead.

  “Joel…Joel he’s right. We have to go. I’m so sorry. I know okay, I know. But they will kill us all if we don’t move.”

  You crawled back to Joel and he looked at you, so broken. You pushed away another sob trying to gather yourself for him. One of you had to be strong and in this moment you knew it had to be you. Joel lowered Sarah gently and looked at her. He kissed her forehead and whispered something to her before he gently laid her on the ground. You watched on helplessly. The three of you turned to each other for a moment before you started to once again move.

  “Well you know we went to that one town where all that salvage was…”

  “Trust me I recall clearly.”

  Now you could laugh a bit about it, but at the time you had been so scared. The two of you had gone to look for supplies and a whole pack of infected had found you. The two of you got separated and could never find each other. You remember going your separate ways to try and take care of the infected from each end. The last words Joel had spoken to you were that he would find you. He never did. You had gone running to find him and at first you had thought he was dead. You had checked every single last body in the area before you ducked into a building. You had slipped into a panic attack giving yourself a moment to grieve, to think of what to do next and then you made yourself move.

  “I made it out of Kentucky by the end of the week. I stayed in Ohio for several years. I lost hope. I lost myself for a long time. I self isolated and just tried to make it through. Then one day it was like this weird spark sent me forward and I felt more alive that I had in awhile. One morning I woke up and I just left. There was something there that was pulling me here. Now I know…it was you.”

  You looked up at him catching his brown eyes already watching you.

  “I thought I had lost you forever. I kept pushing, hoping one day I would find you again. That I would fulfill that promise. I felt like a failure because I never held it up.”

  “Joel…”

  “I got here and I did the same thing you did. I shut down and grieved you. Then one day I got up and made myself move on. I thought I was dreaming when I heard your voice say my name.”

  “Let’s make a promise to each other,” you sat up gently looking down at him, his fingers brushing at your arm gently.

  “Alright,” he smiled, actually smiled, a sight you had not seen in so long.

  “Let’s promise to stay together till the end of time. Let’s promise to never ever get separated again.”

  “That is a promise I was already planning on keeping.”

  Joel’s smile widened and your own grew on your face before he pulled you down, connecting his lips to yours.

Tagged: @jimmythegirl​ @arcadianempress​ @discogrrl​ @immundusspiritu​ @someplace-darker​ @thisis-theway​ @ohpedromypedro​ @scribbledghost​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @princess-and-pedro​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @littlevodka​ @all-hallows-evie​ @mack4676​ @perropascal​ @audreyshepbvrn​ @mswarriorbabe80​ @kaqua​ @novemberrain221​

[nburkhardt]

hello, i'm antoinette! you can call me toni :)

welcome to my blog, there's a lot and probably even more to come. i write here and there. this is the one stop for it all, it's a little organized with short descriptions with each link. i also tag everything with #nburkhardt writes. i have a permanent tag list if you would like to be added let me know!

enjoy the fics!

💐 multiple part fics

Desperate Prayers of a Cursed Man (on hiatus) Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 , Part 6 short description: Steve has issues with being called asshole. Eddie's the one to save him.

Someone You Loved (on hiatus) Part 1, Part 2, short description: Post-Break Up, Steve trends on tiktok with his song about Eddie.

Lower the Noise (Won't Be Putting My Heart On Display) Part 1 & Part 2 short description: Steve realizes he's in love with Eddie.

Wanna Share a Last Name? part 1 & part 2 short description: Steve has a plan, Eddie's a little slow. Wayne has the brain cell.

Goodbye is a Second Chance Part 1, Part 2 short description: Modern Day, A video ends up on trending under the name "TheHair" (posted as snippets)

Does The Ghost Know? (on hiatus) Part 1 short description: Steve thinks Eddie's ghost is apart of his imagination, but is he really?

Touch-Starved Steve part 1, part 2, part 3 (coming soon) short description: Touch is something precious. Steve doesn't get it until Eddie barrels his way in.

Somebody Loves You, You Got A Friend Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10 (coming soon) short description: a/b/o teenage parents steddie! takes place in season 2 (focus on steddie, slice of life fic!)

Love Is... part 2 (coming soon) short description: Love is something not to play with. (its an angst feast, be warned!)

Of Scissors and Wild Curls Part 1 & Part 2 (coming soon) short description: Eddie's bad hair day leads to Steve's hair salon. (Meet-Cute, modern setting)

The Pokemon AU Dustin's Journey, Egg Exchange short description: A series of fics in the world of pokemon (world build, Steddie)

The Rockstar, The Baker & Baby. original idea, slice of life, short description: Both Steve & Eddie are famous, in their own ways. They're also mates, the world doesn't know that.

Pray For The Ground to Swallow Me Whole part 2 (coming soon) short description: Joyce doesn't like Steve, she tells him and leads to a breakdown

Alone for the Holidays ..... Not Exactly. short description: With winter comes holidays, with that Steve is alone. That is until his platonic soulmate calls in a favor with one metalhead. (PLEASE note: the "not exactly" links to the second part)

🌷 one shots

Valentine's Day Fic short description: Eddie loves and hates that he says 'I love you' on Valentine's Day, that's it.

Started as a Joke short description: Steddie called each other boyfriends before dating.

Really, Him? (Mike Wheeler character study) short description: Mike learning about himself and hating that he has a crush on Steve.

Street Fair Dates (Buckingham) short description: Robin gets ditched by Steddie at a fair, buys a plush frog and rambles her way into a date with Chrissy.

Tattooed Steve bonus snippet the start of it short description: He forgot to mention his tattoos, will add more eventually

Short fic: Robin's a babysitter. short description: She babysits Steddie's daughters, thats it.

March 27th, 1986 short description: Eddie Munson has opinions on the date March 27th

Be Your Alibi short description: They had plans to tell everyone, but then Eddie's wanted for murder and really the only way to save your boyfriend is to be his alibi.

Super Angsty Steve short description: Steve's reaction to Eddie saying he doesn't like him. super angsty with very little comfort lol

Oh Sugar, Sugar, I Love You short description: Steve is an overly affectionate lightweight. A silly and fluffy relationship reveal.

Steve's Birthday short description: His birthday rolls around and all he wants is to relax.

Somewhere Along the Bitterness short description: Major character death, angst/no comfort. Steve as Vecna's victim

Meet-Weird short description: its a silly fic with no real plot, steddie!

Of Insomnia and Nightmares short description: It's not the first time Steve looks for him. It’s an unfortunate side effect from nearly dying; insomnia and nightmares.

Feels Like the World's Gonna End (But I'll Get You Through) short description: Steve has a panic attack on the fourth of july, Eddie helps him and they cuddle ❤️

Fluffy established Steddie short description: a short and silly, steddie being deeply in love and silly ❤️

Dancing in the Rain short description: Eddie has a secret love for dancing in the rain

How did this happen? (angsty) short description: This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to be fine. *has a happy ending

Sappy Boys (fluffy) short description: It's in the title, seriously its just very sappy and sweet.

Steddie first kiss scenario short description: At Eddie’s trailer, they’re high as fuck and Max witnesses.

A chaotic Steve short description: Steve decides to wear a shirt and causes everyone to question him (its a relationship reveal!)

The Hoodie Mistake short description: Eddie's late to practice and the guys learn of his relationship with Steve

Jeff helped Steddie get together short description: Jeff asks Eddie a question and spiels down until he and Steve get together.

Backpacks short description: Relationship Reveal featuring Steve being a little shit and backpacks.

Realizations and Maturing short description: Steve's words burn at Nancy, months after Vecna's gone. She learns a few things along the way. (Steddie with Nancy pov)

RWRB inspired short desciption: Eddie disappears on Steve, Steve chases him down (angsty with a happy ending)

Finally Safe & Happy short description: Dustin sees Steve for the first time while he's not on edge.

Single Soon (a famous AU) short description: Chrissy Cunningham is back with a new single! (Buckingham with implied Steddie)

5 Random words fic short description: Someone is stealing from the Capital, Eddie finds out who. Steve has no choice but to steal.

Scoops Troop Time short description: Dustin's finding the the perfect time to line their schedules up for Scoops Troop time.

Hellfire Club or Steve Harrington's fan Club? short description: It started as a dnd club and somewhere along the way it became a little bit more. Eddie also somehow manages to land himself on a date with Steve.

Cuddles short description: Robin is tired of Steve pouting. While all Steve wants to do is cuddle maybe with Eddie.

“H-How long have you been standing there?” short description: Steve doubts if Eddie wants him around, Wayne tells him otherwise

Booping Noses short description: Steve is a very affectionate while high.

Pretty Boys short description: The plan is ruined in seconds just because a pretty boy looks at him.

Giggles in the Morning short description: Slice of life, Steve falling in love all over again with Eddie. (omegaverse, mpreg)

Sweet Morning short description: Steve wants to stay in bed with Eddie

True Love's Kiss short description: Dustin flipped Steve's life upside down, but that wasn't the biggest surprise of his life.

🌺 headcanons | ideas

The Grimm AU short description: Steve doesn't know he's a grimm until a relative shows up with a mysterious trailer. (will eventually continue)

What if Gareth is Robin's step-brother? Part 1, Part 2 short description: AU where Gareth is Robin's step-brother and friends with Steve before steddie happens. Not quite one shots. Maybe eventually will expand on these.

HC: Steve has family short description: Steve is close to his mom & her side of the family

HC: Steve's brain is something else short description: Words are hard for Steve.

HC: Steve gets shovel talks short description: not quite a fic, more rambling of my take on shovel talks

HC: Mike notices Steve pull away short description: Out of everyone to notice Steve pulling away, its Mike Wheeler. (might turn this into something, not sure yet)

What if? Steve has a good relationship with his parents short description: After Vecna, everyone learns of the kind of relationship Steve has with his parents (will eventually expand this!)

An Idea: Omega Steve. short description: an a/b/o idea of Steve wanting to be a parent. Anyone can use it!

An Idea/HC: Mike confronts Nancy short description: Nancy tries to give Steve a shovel talk, Mike's not having it. Anyone can use!

Imagine: Eddie finding the rings short description: a very quick little thing inspired by a pair of rings

Steve's Stuck short description: i projected on steve, He feels stuck in life.

Silenced short description: Its a projection! Steve grew up not allowed opinions or talking back.

Steve and Robin's Quiet Time short description: Steve's favorite pastime is coloring

Eddie gets quiet short description: A projection on our fave boy. When he's overwhelmed, he shuts down.

Steve goes to the park short description: growing up, Steve wasn't allowed to play like the other little kids.

Disneyland Meet-cute short description: Steve's a disneyland VIP who escorts Corroded Coffin around. (an idea that anyone could use!)

Love Language is Food short description: Home Chef Eddie Munson gets on Triple G, Professional Chef Steve Harrington is the host. (very short)

Personal Space short description: Steve's family life. Based off my life with my nieces

Fall Date short description: Steddie's first date is in fall. short & sweet.

Imagine: Steve & Dustin on The Amazing Race short description: It's a fic idea of a henderfam duo on a reality show

Falling in the Cruelest Way short description: Steve tries not to fall for Eddie. Eddie leaves Hawkins behind. (angsty)

Super Powers Sometimes Aren't Great short description: Steve has a deathly touch, he meets Eddie; who can't die.

Anastasia AU short description: Imagine Eddie as Anastasia with Steve as Dimitri.

Claudia's boys short description: it didn't take Claudia to adopt Steve

*updates whenever i post something new or update

[keylovesstuff]

Hiii Everyone!!!

I've been around for years now and have never introduced myself. mainly cause I just choose to vibe and enjoy the posts people share, but first time for everything. You can just call me Key, I'm 24 and I go by she/her. I enjoy a variety of stuff from manwha, manga, anime, video game franchises, and just a bunch of other animated media you name its probably buried down in my blog somewhere. Every now and then I get motivation to create fanfiction. I have only written works the Dragonball and Super Mario fandom All my works are under the "Keep Reading". My DMs and askbox here is always open if you ever want to chat I apologize in advance if I come across as a bit awkward (socializing is not a strong suit of mine) or if it takes me a minute to reply (adulting and hobbies am I right?), otherwise I'm a pretty chill person. Thats about it!

One of these days I really want to change my Penname...But I've had it for years now and I'm way too attached to it lmao.

Super Mario Fics: So a lot of these are Princess Peach centric and I'm just crafting up an origin story and some other events following the 2023 film. The links take you to the tumblr post but I have included the AO3 and FFN (for reading preferences) links either in the original post itself or in the case of my earlier stuff in the reblogs.

Lost And Found

A Learning Opportunity (2 chapters on both AO3 and FFN. They are both on the same post here)

Thoughts Over Tea

Aftermath

Finding The Balance

Little Events (Finished)

Chapter 1: The Dark

Chapter 2: A Decision

Chapter 3: The Coronation

Chapter 4: Proposals

Chapter 5: Changes

Fics Inspired by others:

Villainess Peach and Bowser Jr. (Inspired by the Player One Luigi AU created by Tiny-Prom and Casual-Derg). Please make sure to their blog's and check it out.

Dragonball Fics: The first fandom I have ever written for (and by penname you could probably tell what I read mostly) I have only shared them on FFN and AO3 until now. I was just starting to write fanfiction with the first two so they might be kinda cringe I guess but that's 16 year old me for you haha. gonna embrace the cringe by sharing it on here anyways.

Tournament Day

The Prince Before The Day ( I am never gonna finish that one or go back to it lol)

Bulla's Easter Day

Even when I started making fics I'm still not sure what goes through my mind when it comes to the title or chapter titles its literally the first thing that comes to mind and nothing after that but we will get it one day for sure.

Here's Some WIPs (that's both written and not) you guys can look forward too from me. I'll remove them and add them under the appropriate fic tags once I post them:

Uncle Yamcha fic: It is currently three chapters. The first one is him and Trunks, second is Marron, and the third one is Bra/Bulla. I really want to think of one for him and Goten but nothing has come to my mind. I just think he's more close to Krillin and Bulma where he'd interact more with their kids and I can't think of a scenario for him and Goten or what they would even talk about but maybe something will come. (I've currently sent this off to my Beta for review but lemme know if you guys want to see the un-beta'd version I have on here cause I'm really forward to sharing it)

Untitled EOZ fic following after Goku leaves the Tournament grounds to train Uub. This one sits at about 8k words (not sure exactly cause I added a bunch of notes at the end for my beta to see where my thoughts were going with it all) anyways this one focuses mainly on Trunks, Goten, Marron, Pan, and Bra as really the older kids look forward to what may lie ahead. A lot of it is just me focusing on the dynamics they have with each other. When I saw that dlc for kakorat was going to be focused on that one that really makes me want to share this one. Again let me know if you want to see that.

Based on this Ask here you can already see that I've completed 4 out of my 5 ideas so that leaves the other ones and maybe more if I think of anything else. All of these will probably be added to my Little Events fic. a few little ideas not shared here but I've thought about and have some dialoge in mind but haven't fully created yet.

I want to do something where Mario and Haru interact I just think it'll be so neat.

Maybe something where I do my take on introducing Sarasland and Princess Daisy. Probably along the lines of Peach meeting Daisy for the first time.

I need to hop on the wholesome bros. content at some point and I know I wanna try my hand with Mia and Pio as a part of it.

I think thats it for now...I'll probably add more if I think of something as having somwhere to put it down no matter how small it is can be nice to look at and push me towards getting it done.