#and it's not like the long fic is anywhere near completion either :(

[brucewaynehater101]

I want to shake my brain. What do you mean you can write 42k words in two months for a brand new fic THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR OTHER WIPS?

I've been trying to drag my brain kicking and screaming through the fics I do have posted (my 9k one took MONTHS), and it's here telling me that it can write long fics with no problem? I- :(

>:(

[alexiswritingstuff]

Everyone can heal.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Gn!reader

Summary: Logan falls asleep in the day room at Xavier's school, you accidently startle him awake and end up getting hurt.

Genre: hurt/comfort.

Warnings: mentions of blood, and descriptions of wounds, mentions of nightmares.

This is the first time that I am writing in a while, so I hope this isn't just straight up terrible.

A/n: this if my first fic for Logan, so like I usually say when writing for a new character, I may not have portrayed him in an accurate way. There might be parts that seem out of character and such, so please keep that in mind while reading!

Anyway, I've watched the X-men movies since I was a kid. And after watching the new Deadpool and Wolverine movie I was put right back at square one. So, here you go!

I hope you enjoy!!

Logan masterlist.

It had been a long few days.

It was one of the first weeks that you had actually tried to be a professor. Of some sort.

Now, generally, you weren't exactly the kind of person that worked well with kids. It was a lack of experience on your end, as you hadn't gotten the chance to grow up with much others.

But you wanted to learn. Or... did.

The main fault was that you had forgotten to weigh your personal life, more so the things you needed, alongside being a professor in a school.

See, there were a few things that you didn't know about your abilities beforehand. Charles managed to bring some to light, and in turn, you had to figure out how to use them: Incorporate them into your training, into your fighting skills.

It was a lot to relearn. And you misjudged just how much it was going take it out of you.

Though, you didn't seem to be the only one.

Logan was practically in the same boat. Maybe even a little worse. I mean, he was good with kids, but working with them was different, especially when it's a whole group of them at a time. He even bailed on his own classes once. Or twice... could’ve been more.

But you couldn't exactly blame him.

This was the man that barely stayed a week anyway. He was always leaving, whether it was for a bar or something else, you didn't know unless you went with him.

He wasn't used to it yet. The change of being alone, pretty much all the time, to suddenly being surrounded by a boat load of people 24/7. It was understandable. Especially to you, which is probably why you had got to know him so well.

It was the end of the day. The sun was tucked far beneath the horizon, blanketing your part of the earth in a complete darkness. Minus the slight light pollution.

The hallways of the schools were empty at this time, each kid, hopefully, getting a good night's sleep for the next day of learning. But you could never be sure when it came to the teenagers.

It meant that there were less things in the surrounding area for the sound of your footsteps to bounce off. And that, combined with the size of the archways themselves, allowed the echoes to ring a lot longer than needed. 

You were on your way back to the day room, having made a quick stop by the kitchen to get more sodas in order to soothe the joint annoyance of having a lack of beer. 

It was where the two of you usually set up for quiet moments like these. There wasn't really anywhere else to go, unless you wanted to be stuck in an empty classroom, or have to sit on a freezing bench. And neither of you had an interest in being near a bed.

The most important factor about the day room, however, was that it had a TV. Which just so happened to be the first thing you heard after passing through the final corridor.

It was distant, set at a cautious volume. It must've been one of those talk shows, or maybe some kind of sitcom, as a chorus of laughter would erupt after almost every sentence said.

Either way, it didn't really matter. It had only been put on for background noise. A sound that would carry the silence whenever the two of you had stopped talking, unsure of what to bring up next.

Though, it seemed it had worked a little too well.

The last time you got a look at Logan, he had resumed his usual position. He was upright, back pressed firmly into the sofa as if he were trying to meld with it, and leant against the palm of his hand that had his elbow digging into the armrest.

Your feet halted in a matter of seconds of turning into that doorway. Your tongue was curled in your mouth, lips parted and remaining so, as your eyes had landed back on the man.

He was lying in the opposite direction. His body was sprawled across the length of the couch, though his feet were cursed to hang loosely over the edge. His muscles looked tense, regardless of the usual relief that sort of position was supposed to give a person. But that wasn't the interesting part.

His eyes were closed.

At this point the condensation on the bottles had begun to grow into little drops of water, joining together, one by one, before leaking onto your skin.

Your steps were slow, testing each of the floorboards beneath your shoes to avoid the ones that creaked like an old door.

Logan wasn't a person who got tired easily. It was part of his mutation, that of which you had learned very quickly, but apparently it had manifested into thinking that he couldn't even feel it at all. I guess you were wrong.

Though, in his defence, he may not have even meant to fall asleep when he closed his eyes.

Eventually, you had made it to the edge of the couch. There was a side table on each end of it, the safest and the closest option regardless of the fact his shoed feet were almost right above it.

You took one of the bottles in your free hand, making sure that your grip was just right, before beginning the descent to the table.

You held your breath, narrowed gaze flickering consistently from the eventual destination to the sleeping man. The concentration had even caused your tongue to poke through your teeth as you took about a step closer--

And then bam.

Right as the bottom of the bottle had touched down on the wood, this sudden guttural sound rippled through the air. It had you stumbling backwards, gaping in the direction of the continued noise that sounded like fear itself.

In front of you, now, was not the same sleeping man. In fact, this man was sat up, though almost hunched over most of his body. His arms were raised, aimed straight ahead, and that happened to be right at you.

“Whoa-- hey!”

He was heaving. Each breath taken almost shook his entire body. And the noises... They were almost like growls.

They were so deep and harsh as they pushed out of his throat one after the other, but his inhales were somehow even worse. It was like all the air in the room had suddenly dissipated.

It wasn't until you heard the seams of the couch starting to rip that you realised his claws were even out, the ends just about digging into the pillows beside him.

“Logan, hey, it's me, okay? Look,” you attempted to call, trying to lower your head so that he could properly meet your eyes, “Look, it's me!” And then he did. He saw you, even if It took a moment for it to actually kick in. 

He was still heaving, his gaze was fierce and his eyebrows never eased. He had even slightly choked on a breath on its way out.

But you saw the way he had slightly leaned back. There was a relief within the swirl of other emotions.

Until his gaze lowered.

Now, at some point in the past few minutes, the other bottle in your hand had been discarded. It most likely hit the edge of your shoe, sending it to roll off into some corner of the room where it would be forgotten about until morning... But it hadn't smashed.

So, why did something sound like it was dripping?

“Y/n.”

By the time your eyebrows had furrowed in confusion, Logan had hurriedly shoved himself up from the couch, his claws shrinking back between his knuckles within seconds. “Shit.”

You were lost. The sudden switch in atmosphere had you just standing there, fixated on the man that was moving towards you with this look on his face. Similar to one of guilt.

“Logan?” You had barely gotten the name out before you suddenly felt a hand on your arm. Your head snapped in its direction, lips parting so that you could ask what the hell was going on. And then he slightly tilted your arm.

There was your answer. “Oh.”

Three marks. There were three lines etched diagonally into your arm, one deep enough that it led the pooling blood to trickle down your skin. How did you not feel that?

“Fuck,” Logan's hand was careful. His fingers were light and gentle as they grazed the side of your arm. Hesitant. His breaths were getting louder again. “I'm…”

“I'm sorry,” he attempted, his voice barely escaping as a whisper, “I'm so sorry.”

His eyebrows were more furrowed than they were before. The rest of his face was sort of scrunched up too, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Or he was disgusted by it.

“Logan,” You tried placing your hand on his closest wrist, but he immediately retracted. He let go of your arm, “Hey, look, I'm fine, okay?” you started louder, more insistent, “It doesn't hurt.”

Logan shook his head for a moment. He took a slight step backwards, his stance heavy. His eyes never moved. “I'm sorry.”

He grunted, the frown taking over his lips deepening for just a moment before his torso twisted. He grabbed the neck of the successfully placed soda, and then just walked around you.

“No, wait,” You tried to reach out, wanting to grasp his arm or even the fabric of his top, but he swerved, completely avoiding you, “Logan?”

You couldn't even make another attempt as if your other hand was away for longer, more blood would end up dripping on the floor. So, your body turned, desperate eyes following the man in a way that was more of a plea than anything else.

But he never looked back. He continued walking through the doorway, rubbing hard against his temples with a final grunt before disappearing behind the wall.

~~~

The time, at this point, was unclear. The clocks in this school were usually around the learning areas, mostly in the classrooms, which created a sort of guessing game anywhere else.

It was apparent, however, that the sun had just begun to rise. Peeking over the horizon enough so that a bright mist seeped into most of the corridors.

You found yourself back in the hallways. There wasn't a very clear reason as to why than this inability to sit. A failure to be still for seconds at a time, regardless of the tiredness that had started to cling to your skin.

But that was the last thing on your mind.

You kept thinking about it; the previous encounter. It was sort of plaguing your mind, more so how you handled it.

Granted, it was in fact your first time having to deal with a situation like that, and usually you were on the other side. Though this seemed different, like something had just been exposed.

You were aware of the fact that Logan had nightmares. I mean, it was one of the most believable things about him, considering the things he'd gone through. The extent, however, was undetermined.

Until today.

A huff of air sifted through your lips as you attempted to straighten your spine, stretch the accompanying muscles that had grown tense over the past few hours.

The aimless walking was almost nice. The surroundings were mostly quiet, excluding the wind that whistled against the glass of the windows, having picked up some time earlier.

It was that time of year again. The group of months where the weather grew cold and the plants began to change. It almost made the school feel cosy even if there was no heating in the hallways.

In fact, where you were now was the coldest, and it wasn't until you looked up properly that you realised you were about to walk into a dead-end.

Slowly, your feet came to a stop, your lazy eyes blinking hastily in the blaring yellow light, which was starting to mix into this sort of orange.

Your shoulders lowered, a sense of relief filtering through your system as the decision had been final. You were going to go to your room, maybe even get to lay down for a few hours until it was time to teach.

So, you turned on your heel, taking about a step in the other direction as your blurry eyes attempted to focus on the closest doorway, until you could note the surroundings. It was the kitchen.

Now, that door was always open, usually swung all the way back and held by a stopper. But a light was on. Allowing you to properly get a view of the room and what was in it.

More so who.

Your movements had halted right as you were about to take another step.

Logan.

He was sitting at the narrow table at the back, set between the array of windows. His elbows were against the surface of it, one of his hands clasped around a bottle he had just set down. He swallowed, and so did you.

There was an initial pause, seconds taken to calculate the right decision, before you went in. Your lips parted, ready to release the script you had gone over in your head for the last hour--

“I didn't mean to hurt you.”

Instead, you were frozen. The volume of his voice, and the angle he sat at, almost made it seem like the words didn't even come from him. He probably heard you before you had even come down the hall.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Logan–” you tried, but his mouth opened before you could even finish, “Just let me talk,” He hadn't moved. He was in the same position, still holding the bottle, and staring straight forward like there was someone there across from him. “Okay?”

You brought your lips together, placing a hand on the kitchen island to distribute your weight. Logan took the silence as acceptance and he cleared his throat. “I'm sure you already know,” he had begun, sparing the slightest glance your way for confirmation that didn't even need, “about the... nightmares.”

It was as if something in his mouth went sour when he said it, like the words itself tasted bad.

“Some are about the past, you know-- bits and pieces of it, anyway, but…” Logan paused for a moment, both verbally and physically. It only held for a few seconds. And then he sighed. “There are other ones too- Ones... ones where people get hurt, and, I'm…”

“I'm the one doing it.” It was a slow movement, an action that looked like it had to be forced, as Logan suddenly began turning in his seat. He met your eyes with a look that had your eyebrows furrowing all over again, “I'm the one hurting people.”

“Y/n, I'm sorry.”

“Logan,” you started, shaking your head in disagreement with the apology, but he only repeated it. “I'm so sorry.”

You made your way to the edge of the island, pace slowing once round the corner, “Hey,” Logan's gaze had shifted as you moved. It was lower, directed at a specific point. He was looking at your arm.

It had been engulfed by a layer of, hopefully, the appropriate bandaging. An attempt at following the tips Jean had given you from previous injuries.

But it being covered somehow made it seem worse than it was.

“Hey, look at me,” you called, stopping at a good place where you were actually in front of him, yet still a good distance away so he wouldn’t want to back off. “Look at me.” 

The next words only left your lips when he had finally decided to comply. “I'm fine.” you assured, the tone of your voice much lighter than before. But that made the look on Logan's face shift, “I hurt you.”

“It was an accident,” Your response was quick, your voice making it sound so simple. Like the sentence said should’ve been accompanied by a shrug of the shoulders. Logan didn't like that, “Accident or not, I still hurt you, Y/n.” His tone was riddled with this disbelief, as if he couldn't believe that he had to tell you that in the first place.

“And, I'm still here, Logan.”

You didn't understand it. The two of you had trained together many times, each round ending with either one receiving a new injury until your skills developed. Hell, you had been in battle together.

A little scratch was nothing. “It was a mistake-- my mistake. I'm the one who startled you, shit like this happens.” you tried to assure. Logan scoffed immediately, “What-- Does that make it magically okay for me to hurt people?”

“No!” you huffed out, the ability to contain your annoyance dwindling the more he challenged your statements. “No, okay? But-- You know, what-- Look.”

You took a few more steps, the care for all of the previous caution going completely out the window as you grasped an end of the bandaging, and unwinded the material before pulling back the padding beneath.

“See?”

Logan almost looked like he had buffered for a few seconds. He blinked, and then again, and then twice really fast, as if it would change what was in front of him. His hand had even flexed, like he wanted to reach it out, though it remained on the table.

They were gone. Each mark, each line that was carved into the skin had completely gone. Disappeared without a trace. There wasn't even a scar.

“You…” He spoke slowly, his eyes trailing up the length of your arm to your shoulders. And then your face. “You can regenerate?”

“Granted, a little... Well, a lot slower than you-- But, yeah.” you confirmed, wrapping the bandage up in your hands before placing it on the kitchen aisle behind you.

Logan leaned back slightly in a way that straightened his up spine. He brought his legs from under the table and set them in the direction the rest of his body was facing. He had turned right towards you.

“Are you serious?” The complete deadpan had you staring right back at him. You couldn't read the expression, nor the stance. You didn't even know what to call it. “Yep.” You blinked. Logan didn't move a muscle, “You can heal.” 

Now, you could hear it in his voice. It wasn't just a statement, a form of repetition to clarify the new information. He was getting mad.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “I... I don't really know what else you want me to say.” Which was the truth, the whole healing thing was one of the things you had discovered with Charles. 

It's an entirely different process than it is for most anyway, let alone when it comes to Logan. At the moment you actually had to activate the process for anything to heal. But you were working on it.

I guess it just slipped your mind.

“So, you were just willingly acting like a damn damsel?” The lines around his eyebrows deepened the way they usually did when he was getting angry. And they weren't stopping.

“A damsel?” you repeated, even tilting your head as a wordless question, and he just nodded. “You stood there. You just stood there until I came to you-- You didn't even try to stop the bleeding. Hell, did you even notice?”

That look on his face never changed. You hated it. The way it darkened his eyes, or tensed the surrounding muscles. The most bothersome thing, however, was the fact that it was aimed at you. “No,” you started, this time with a deeper voice. “No, I didn't-- You know, why?”

“Why?” Logan commanded, the veins around his neck becoming apparent. It was as if he was trying to win an argument, get the upper hand and serve some kind of justice, like you had done something wrong.

He was supposed to be relieved.

“Maybe, it's because that was the last thing I cared about, Logan!”

The two of you were just staring at each other. At this point, both of you were almost heaving, the past few minutes taking the air out of both pair of lungs.

The expression on Logan's face twitched for a moment, a crack in the anger that usually wasn't breakable. His posture had become more of a slouch as he suddenly decided to lean back a little, like before.

You watched with curious eyes when he then sighed, breaking the held gaze to grab his bottle of soda and bring it to his lips.

It all resembled a puzzle. A constant attempt to find the right piece, the right thought, that would fit it all together. But there was a lack of progress. You were at a loss. 

Was he mad that you didn't tell him? Was he actually mad that you didn't do anything about the scratches? Were you reacting the wrong way? Did he want you to hate him? Were you supposed to?

Or did he think that you couldn't grasp the situation? The severity. The big 'What if?' Maybe he was in fact tired. 

Just a different kind.

You started to move after another few seconds, the sound of your shoes against the tiles piercing through the layer of created silence. It was apparent that Logan was watching, albeit discreetly, following what he could as he took another swig.

Your movements concluded by the length of the table he was sitting at. You leaned onto it, releasing that weight that had started aching both your knees and your feet from standing for so long.

By the time your eyes were back on Logan, his own had snapped away.

You took in a deep breath of the cold air, feeling it hit the back of your throat, your shoulders deflating, “I get them too, you know... Nightmares.”

There was a beat of silence again. A lack of movement, or reaction. And then he met your eyes again. Slower this time, almost hesitant. He set his drink down ,listening. So, you continued, “I wouldn't go about comparing them,” 

“But, I understand enough to know what it's like.”

Logan sort of huffed a laugh after that. Not a malicious one, or in disbelief of the sentiment. He was acknowledging it. “You shouldn't have to.” 

He was back to that whisper of a voice again. It was still deep, and a tad gravely, almost forceful. But it conveyed enough. “Neither should you.. yet,” you paused, shrugging your shoulders, “Here we are.”

This time, the huffed laugh was louder. More pronounced in a way. It left a mark on his lips, leaving them curling at the corners. It fit right in. You wanted it to stay. Maybe a little too much, “At least, now, I get to say that I was attacked by The Wolverine and survived.” 

The comment was a little dangerous, especially if taken the wrong way. In all honesty, your eagerness allowed it to be blurted right through your lips before you could catch it. 

But Logan practically snorted. “Shut up.” he breathed, bringing the soda back to his lips. You pretended that you didn’t hear him, even crossing your arms over your chest, though a grin had slightly appeared, “I could even say that I defeated him.” 

In about a second his eyes had snapped to yours, a singular brow rising as the bottle smacked onto the surface of the table, “Okay,” He swallowed, “you did not defeat me, bub.”

“Oh, really?” you challenged, attempting to mimic his expression. “You were done after one move.”

Logan pushed the chair with his back in a way that had the legs screeching against the tiles. He stood from it, moving about a step to the side before continuing towards you.

“I was distracted.” he pointed out, gaze narrow as his eyebrows decided to furrow in an attempt to support his justification. “Excuses, excuses,” was all you said, accompanying it with a light shrug.

Logan was right in front of you now. He was close, about a step away. Though, the longer he looked at you, his eyes scanning across the skin of your face, that amusement once held had begun to fade.

He became sort of serious, the tension making the lines of his face more prominent all over again as his lips curved into more of a frown.

“I don't want it to happen again.” He was avoiding your eyes now, his own gaze cast downward. They were following his hand as he had brought it to your arm, the fingers of which ghosting across where the marks had been like he could still see them.

“Logan,” you started, your voice quiet yet loud enough that his attention was recovered. The two of you were looking at each other again, this time properly. Your features eased, all of the concern and the previous anger completely melting away.

You brought the hand of your previously injured arm upward, and he watched it until it went out of his vision.

You gently placed your hand on the side of his cheek, your palm pressing into the hair of his mutton chops which brought his gaze back to yours. And then you smiled lightly, just enough that he could see it, “Even if it did, I am not going anywhere.”

There was this quick twitch in Logan's expression. A split second of movement that had almost gone unnoticed until it happened again. His eyebrows pinched together.

Before you could say a word, he had suddenly pulled you forward, away from the table you were once against.

By the time you were up straight, his arms had wrapped around your body one after the other, entrapping you in this warmth that the kitchen could never achieve. It had you copying him as fast as you could, letting your hands land across the skin of his back and the fabric of the tank top.

Logan's head was planted on your shoulder, his hair sort of tickling the side of your face as he tucked himself in further. 

His body slightly deflated after a moment, a sort of gravelly hum of content rumbling from his throat. He obviously wasn’t putting his entire weight on you, the two of you would've tipped over within seconds. But you could feel it.

An extra weight that you were glad to carry.

[notshynotmeitzyyy]

Chasing Echoes

PAIRING caitlyn kiramman x f!reader

type : SHORT FIC

Arcane modern au

summary: caught in the shallow expectations of a relationship with your charming but distant boyfriend, meets a new face, Caitlyn Kiramman. Just casual acquaintances, Caitlyn’s boldness and effortless charm draws you in, leading to a growing, unspoken connection...

The grand ballroom glowed under the twinkle of the chandeliers, their crystal facets scattering light across the polished marble floor.

The air was heavy with the scent of champagne and expensive perfume, mingling with the quiet murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. It was the kind of event that felt as though, should be exciting, but instead, it left you feeling oddly empty.

You took a sip from your wine, the glass cool against your fingers, as your boyfriend—charming, attentive to everyone but you—worked his way through the crowd. He had left you standing near the edge of the room, his promises of "just a minute" stretching into what felt like hours.

You didn’t mind, you told yourself. Honestly, you should’ve already gotten used to it considering how long you both were together. These events were his world, not yours.

Then you saw her.

She wasn’t really trying to stand out, but she did. With her daring blood red lipstick, the kind that catches the eye and lingers in your mind. Her hair was messy in a way that seemed deliberate, as though she’d spent just enough time ruffling it to perfection.

She leaned casually against the pillar, her posture radiates confidence and unbothered, a stark contrast to the polished etiquette of the other guests.

She caught you looking.

A sly smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she waltz over to you, the soft sounds of the click in her heels against the floor was barely audible over the hum of the gala.

Up close, her presence was almost magnetic—sharp blue eyes locking onto yours as though the two of you were the only ones in the room.

“Not your kind of party?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. Her voice was low, with just a hint of playfulness.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What makes you say that?”

“You’ve got that look,” she replied, gesturing lazily with her glass. “Like you’d rather be anywhere else. I'm guessing you didn’t come here alone, though.”

Your eyes flicked towards your boyfriend across the room. He was engrossed in conversation, completely unaware of your absence. “No, I didn’t.”

“Though so.” She chuckled softly, and for a moment, it felt like you were in on some private joke. “Well, if you’re looking for better company, you’ve found it.”

You laughed, the sound surprising even you. “Confident, aren’t you?”

“Always,” she said, winking as her smile widen. "I’m Caitlyn, by the way.” You gave your name, and she repeated it softly, as though savoring the sound. “Nice to meet you too. Let me guess, you’re not here by choice either?” You asked, a teasing glint can be heard from your tone.

She shrugged. “Something like that. These events are all about appearances and gossips, but sometimes you meet interesting people. Like you.”

The compliment hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you weren’t quite sure what to say. Something about her—her boldness, and ease—made it hard to look away.

Before you could respond, your boyfriend’s voice cut through the moment, calling your name from across the room. You glanced over, guilt pricking at the edges of your thoughts.

“Looks like your ride’s calling,” she said, her tone light but her eyes sharp, “Catch you sometime?”

You nodded, unsure why you felt a pang of hesitation as you turned to leave. Walking away, you couldn’t help but glance back. She was still there, watching you with an unreadable expression, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.

a/n: heyy guyss just a little note, it's my first time writing and posting here, sooo I might get overboard sometimes. English is not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistake and some grammatical errors. enjoy!!!

©notshynotmeitzyyy, Jan. 14, 2025

[yandere-sins]

I also had another random thought about being Konig's platonic darling and Ghost's romantic darling at the same time!

In a lot of fics, darlings are mostly seen as rabbit or caged birds right? I personally think that kortac operator!reader is a swan. Why? Swans glide gracefully, but that's on the surface. They're paddling madly under the water. That's her! Being an operator means that darling shows excellence, but doesn't show her struggles to achieve that position. Also, doesn't have the privilege of opening up because that is a privilege reserved for the rookies. Operators can't do that. In Kortac, darling doesn't have the privilege about opening up about Konig. I believe that all readers are beautiful, so that, plus looking perfect in the surface, radiate swan energy.

And Ghost, being an extremely sharp man with good instincts can see that she's "paddling madly under the water" despite the perfect exterior. Maybe this is what attracted him to her?

A little scenario came to mind! I hope you don't mind me adding on to this ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"Ain't you tired?" a deep, gravelly voice called out to you from behind. You flinched, all your training gone the second either Ghost or König were around, and you'd know his accent from anywhere. Glancing over your shoulder, you spotted him hidden in the dark shadows along the wall near you, leisurely leaning against the metal while raking his eyes up and down your body.

It wasn't like you needed to fear him. What you needed was to pay attention to the meeting happening in front of you, although you had to admit you had long tuned out the voices explaining new adaptions to the handbook on how to behave with fellow operators. For a while, you had been watching König, his hulking form a few rows in front of you, other, lower-ranking soldiers separating you just like you wanted. He kept shifting his weight, stealing glances back at you, making sure you were still there.

Of course, you were. You were tired, not disobedient.

"You're not supposed to be here," you mumbled back, your sentence containing the slightest hint of a question even though the fact remained. He wasn't a KorTac operator; he didn't need to take part in a meeting with them. "And you should be sleepin'. Can see your eye bags from a mile away."

"Charming..." you sighed. "You came here just to tell me that?"

"Nah. Just lookin' out for my darlin'."

You took a deep breath, widening your stance as if to put up a stronger barrier. Naturally, König's head snapped around, checking why you were moving. Still, his focus was so sharply on you that he completely missed the ghost hiding in the shadows. König was obviously annoyed about the standing arrangements, rank never suiting him whenever he had to be a professional while in the same room with you. His neck stretched, making him even taller (as if he didn't already surpass all the other soldiers), yet, when you shrugged at him, he resigned himself to listening to the lecture. Was he disappointed there was no danger? One, where he could swoop you up and carry you to safety?

"I'm not tired, thanks," you finally replied to Ghost's question, speaking slowly and calmly to not raise suspicion by letting your voice ring through the rows of operators. If König—who you were sure by now this meeting was about as someone must have ratted him out for how he was behaving around you—wasn't enough of a stress factor, you really didn't need an additional hen to hoover over you.

"No foolin' me. I know he kept you on your toes last night. Always does, that bastard. The thrill of the chase, yeh? But won't you get tired from being the mouse?"

"It's not ideal," you offered, a small acknowledgment of the truth. "But he's my colonel, and I respect him. Can we leave it at that?"

Ghost sighed, and you felt his presence step up to your back rather than hear it. Uncanny, that's what he was. That was the reason your skin turned into goosebumps as he stood behind you, shrouded in darkness like an apparition rather than a fellow human being.

"Sure, darlin'. You can have me bed if you need to sleep for once. You know where to find me."

And then, as silently as he appeared, he was gone again, leaving you with that offer. Biting your lip, you hated how tempting it was. How secure it felt to put your trust in him. You knew better than that; knew he was on the opposite side of the spectrum of the horror you were living.

Ghost made it very clear that he wanted you, perhaps in the same way as König, just... carnally. König wanted his version of you, to be with you, to obsess over you, love you. Take care of you although you were perfectly able to do so yourself. The job was dangerous, sure, but in his version, you were a pitiful, debilitated thing to care for. One that needed him almost as much as he seemed to need you. But Ghost... he wanted more than that.

He wanted to win you over, wanted to mold and bend you as he pleased, wanted you feisty yet helpless to his demands. He wanted you screaming and crying, but he wanted you to come to him despite the eery promises of discomfort he emitted. There was more possessiveness in his eyes every time you saw him, more lust, more desire. Perhaps it was a form of love, too, but it was hard to understand either man obsessing with you.

"[Name]?"

Shit, the meeting.

"Y-Yeah?" you replied quickly, not wanting to be caught. König towered in front of you, his body blacking out the low-hanging lights he had to duck underneath.

"Who were you talking with? I saw your mouth move."

"N-No one, Colonel! I was repeating what I was learning."

"Oh... I see. Good. That's good."

You noticed his eyes prying away from you, scanning the area behind you briefly. "Let's go then. You didn't have your breakfast yet, did you?"

Lifting his arm behind your back, it hovered there. Not close enough to touch, even if you knew he was edging his fingertips over your shoulders, but it urged you forward in a gesture so natural, no one batted an eye. You sighed as you picked up a pace that König had very little problem keeping up with, but you knew that not all suspicions were quelled just with your verbal confirmation. He'd be even more careful and attentive—which was hard, considering he was overbearing on the good days.

And suddenly, Ghost's invitation felt very tempting again.

[earthtooz]

an accidental diluc fic in which you seek refuge at dawn winery in the midst of a storm. pining ensues. 1k words.

the fireplace crackles, a pen scrawls hurriedly on paper, and the rain that hits the windows of dawn winery is slowly beginning to ease, the oppressive downpour turning into something gentle and calming. you glance out the windows, unfocusing your eyes and mind from the novel in your hands to observe the slowing raindrops.

your pot of tea is empty now, your hair and clothes have dried completely now after being near a fireplace for so long, and your limbs are beginning to ache from how long you’ve been sitting around. perhaps it’s time to return home now. 

diluc, from where he works in front of you, doesn’t notice you, hands too tightly wound in his red locks to look anywhere but at his paperwork. he is so concentrated that you feel bad distracting him from his duties, but with the easing of the rain, you’d rather leave now in case the downpour starts again.

oh, but thinking of the trip back home is already an unappealing thought. it is so warm inside diluc’s abode with the fireplace a few feet away from you, his furniture is so comfortable, and you’d hate having to trek through mud and hills, sullying your shoes and attire. 

however, you would hate to disturb the ragnvindr estate more than you already have with your sudden appearance, frantic to find shelter from the downpour. it just so happened you were near dawn winery at the time of the storm, and when the redhead caught sight of you amidst the onslaught of rain, he hurried you inside with no room for argument. 

it wasn’t that the two of you were unfamiliar. you’ve known him properly for two years now, and you admit that during those years, you’ve developed quite the affectionate spot for the young winery owner. sometimes, you think he feels the same for you, but diluc ragnivdr is diluc ragnvidr, as close as you may be, you are reminded of how unreachable he is for someone like you. so although he is the one that ushered you into his home, offering you a warm place to seek refuge in the meantime, you are the one that feels most guilty taking up space in his home. 

in hopes of subtly catching diluc’s attention, you stand, careful to not let the cushions move an inch as you pat down your clothes.

despite your rustling, the red-haired still has not moved, staring at the paperwork before him as if they were the greatest heathen of his life. one of the maids notice you instead, quickly scrambling to your aid and asking whether or not something was disturbing you.

“no, no, nothing of that sort,” you reassure, unsure of how to act with someone so frantically attending do your wants. “i was merely preparing to leave soon since the rain has eased.” 

the scraping of chair against wooden floorboards fill the room and heavy footsteps follow. “leaving? at this time of day?” diluc asks, presence suddenly larger than life and occupying the whole room. you feel small in front of him, overtaken by a courteous guilt. 

the maid has left. 

“yes, at this time of day,” you confirm. “is that so wrong?” 

“it’s dusk, y/n. the monsters will be out and it’ll be unsafe outside by the time you leave.”

“i can handle myself,” you vaguely gesture to the vision and sword that hangs from your hips. still, his expression does not change. “besides, i’ve been in your hair long enough, thank you for your hospitality, but i mustn’t bother you anymore.” 

“you do not need to be so formal with me. while you are under my roof, it would be in my best interest to take care of you,” he crosses his arms over his chest, looking away from your eyes. “your company could never be a burden, either.”

you cannot help but smile at his shy confession, stepping yourself back in his gaze so he can see that warm grin of yours that he’s come to adore- not that he’d ever admit that to you. “oh?” you quip. “why, i’m flattered that you deem me worthy to keep around, master diluc, but i ought to get going now.”

“it’s still cold outside, your attire is far too little for this weather.”

“a little bit of cold never hurt me.”

“you’ll get sick.”

“i’ll refuse.”

“you’ll… refuse?” he snorts.

“i will!” you declare brazenly.

“you are not leaving the manor when it’s cold and dark outside.”

you ignore the fluttering of your heart at the obvious care he is showcasing. “i feel awful taking up space in your home, diluc.”

“my decision is final, you shouldn’t risk your safety because of silly assumptions believing that you’re ‘bothering’ me.”  

as if sensing leftover threads of hesitance in your resolve, he adds, “adelinde was looking forward to having you here tonight as well. if you want to leave at some point, can’t you let it be after dinner? i’d hate to disappoint adelinde by telling her of your departure.”

as if the universe had timed it, it was after his sentence that you began to smell an aromatic scent wafting into the room, one so delicious that it was getting harder for you to resist diluc’s invitations. 

“you’re just guilt-tripping me now!” you accuse, a glimmer of amusement settling in his red eyes.

“and you are stalling. stay for dinner at least, i’ll feel better knowing that you leave with a full stomach.”

“what are you two bickering about?” comes a third voice- adelinde, who peeks around the doorway with an affectionate smile. at her appearance, you straighten your spine and crowd away from the young winery owner.

“nothing,” diluc explains, “apologies if we were too loud.”

“please, save your conversations for dinner. the plates are ready if you wish to eat, master diluc.” 

“thank you, adelinde.” the redhead turns to you. “so, what will it be?” 

home could wait, you decide. “it’d be impolite of me to decline. i’ll stay.” 

he smiles in satisfaction at your surrender, seeming proud of himself for getting you to stay a little longer. you can’t see it, but the head maid can very clearly identify the warm bits of affection settling in the young master’s eyes, rolling off him in waves as you declare that you’ll return his hospitality next time. 

(you stay the night because shortly after dinner, the rain returned. this time, with thunder and lightning.)

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[five-rivers]

If you are still taking Prompts, I would love to know how Danny's Delivery went in your fic Delivery in your Grandfather Clock's series. Like, I'm just imagining him getting shot (not seriously) and Clockwork fussing over him even while he congratulates Danny on doing a good job.

"Okay," said Sam, the minute Danny's parents and the doctor went out into the hallway to talk. "Spill."

"It pretty much went how I said it went," said Danny, shrugging. "I found that guy's notebook and decided to bring it back to him. The Guys in White were there with their stupid ultrasensitive targeting system. I set it off and they shot me."

"Yeah, you're helpful, but you're not that helpful," said Sam. "You'd normally have handed it off to Jazz, since she's got some classes there."

That was true.

"You've done it before," said Jazz, crossing her arms. No help there.

"Okay, you're right, but you have to promise not to get mad," said Danny.

Sam and Jazz looked at each other. Danny would have liked Tucker to be there, just for the sake of Guy Solidarity, but Tucker refused to get anywhere near a doctor's office unless someone was actively dying.

"Go ahead," said Jazz, finally.

"Clockwork gave me the notebook and told me to bring it back," said Danny. "Because, he said, the Guys in White would lose a lot of recruits and that'll be important in the future."

"He sent you somewhere to get shot at?" asked Jazz.

"I knew I was going to get shot at, and I did it anyway. That's kind of what I do every time I fight ghosts, too."

Jazz made a face. "That's true."

"So, it was time agent stuff," said Sam. "That's still working out for you?"

"Oh, yeah, it's great," said Danny. "Clockwork is great."

"I'm glad, but still... I don't like that he sent you to get shot at on purpose."

"But I'm fine."

"And remember what he was like during the snake thing," said Sam.

"I wasn't there during the snake thing," said Jazz. "Because you didn't tell me about the snake thing until after."

"Oh, yeah. Well, he was completely doting on him. Like at the, you know, at the party."

"You can say deathday around me, I'm not going to freak out."

"I know, I know," said Jazz. "We all like Clockwork, it's just that with Mom and Dad... You don't need someone else who cares more about work."

When it came to ghosts, things weren't quite that simple. He didn't think things were quite that simple with his parents, either.

"Yeah, but it was about making me safer in the future."

Jazz's expression softened further. "If you're sure that's what's going on, okay," she said. She sat down in one of the chairs. "But maybe give me a heads up in the future? You nearly gave us a heart attack."

"Mostly you," said Sam.

"Mostly me," agreed Jazz.

"Time out," said Clockwork.

Danny sat up straighter on the examination table. "I didn't mess anything up, did I?"

"Not at all," said Clockwork. "You did wonderfully. Everything is as it should be." He held out a hand. "May I?"

Danny nodded and slid the paper examination gown to one side so Clockwork could see the burns more easily. They weren't serious, and he was already healing quickly, but they were worse than what a regular human would have gotten from those weapons... Which had, at least, made the doctor and his parents that much more angry at the GIW. Although, who knew how long that would last or what excuses the GIW would come up with.

Clockwork adjusted one of the watches on his wrist and passed his hand over the burn. Danny watched as another couple of days of healing passed in front of his eyes.

"I need to learn that trick," said Danny, putting the gown back into place.

"I will be happy to teach you," said Clockwork.

Danny blinked at him. "Really?"

"Really. Time in."

[astronautmike-dexter]

ASTRONAUT’S FAVE VEGEBUL FICS FROM 2024

This year saw an amazing Vegebul renaissance, and it's been such a blessing to be part of it! I have read so many wonderful fics this year and I wanted to point out some that were started in 2024 that have really stuck with me.

I have popped these into the following categories:

Multi-chapter - ongoing

Multi-chapter - completed

Oneshots

(Please note that I obviously have not read everything and have probably missed quite a few amazing pieces. Hopefully I get to my reading list soon and can rec some more!)

Take a look under the cut, ring in 2025 in Vegebul style!

MULTI-CHAPTER - ONGOING

Homeworld Lost - @astral-mariner Saiyan's under Freeza's rule. Bulma listening to Vegeta's horrifying origin story through a fixed scouter, told by the unreliable narrator, Raditz. I've been reassured we have not got anywhere near the level of horror the tags suggest. Fucked up, dark, kinda horny (if you're fucked up and dark as well).

Mission Critical - herpb4uderp An AU set in space. Enemies to lovers, with so much sexual tension throughout. The characterisations of the side characters are just as amazing. Absolutely love this one!

The Saiyan Accord - VolgaFjorgan Oh man, you want to talk tension?! Saiyan's are in an alliance with Earth, and Bulma and Vegeta have to work together while combatting unknown forces that threaten to dismantle everything. Tension, babes... TENSION!

Sons of the Saiyans - @mawrblaidddrwg MOTORBIKE SCENE. Sorry, let me calm down and start again... MOTORBIKE SCENE!!!!!!! ok, got that out of my system. It's not just that scene. I promise. It's everything. The world building, the smut, the absolute heartache throughout. Violent, gritty, sexy, amazing AU. Please consider giving this a go if you don't like AU's - I promise it will make you a fan!

When Heaven Takes You Home - @superaliencake Forced to work together on an important project, Bulma gets dragged into Vegeta's dark world under Frieza's rule. The tension throughout this is absolute *chefs kiss*. The author's first time writing fanfiction is an absolute home run, and I'm excited/terrified to see where this goes!

Lachrimae - @rozzingit Trunks from a future lands on Vegetasei and has to navigate Saiyan's, his father as a child, and absolute grief. The world building in this is next fucking level, and the flashbacks to the Vegeta Trunks knew are just devastating. I have no idea where this is going, but I am absolutely frothing this one!

Beyond the Stars - @twenty--one--violets Planet Vegeta still exists. Tasked with destroying Earth, Vegeta pops in to take a small holiday on the planet before its destruction. But of course, his plans are thrown when he gets one (1) look at Bulma. This Vegeta is as dark and violent as he is smitten.

Homeward Bound - @galexibrain Set in the 7YG, Trunks has been kidnapped. Vegeta, with Bulma in tow, plus a cheeky lil stowaway, track down the evil Cooler to bring him back to Earth. Beautiful, gut-wrenching, with some of the most stunning visuals I've read.

MULTI-CHAPTER - COMPLETED

Blue with Envy - @serenityhime1 The tag "Tension thicker than a snicker" is underselling this one. You want pining Vegeta? You want brilliant Bulma? You want what you can't have? If you answered yes to that last one, you might just be Vegeta. Read the tags before entering... or don't. Either way, you're in for a wild ride.

A Vast, Cold Space - VolgaFjorgan STAR TREK AU!!! This is one of my favourite Bulma fics. Yes, there's Vegebul (oh lordy, is there Vegebul), but the multi-dimensional, intricate take on Bulma is top tier. It tackles longing, grief, action, with all that delicious tension the author does so well.

A Heart Worth Believing In - @galexibrain FUTURE BULMA FUTURE BULMA FUTURE BULMA! Vegeta falls ill to the mysterious heart disease that once threatened to claim Goku's life. The only person Bulma can turn to is herself. If there's one thing Lexi loves to do, it's whump Vegeta and make us cry over it.

Illicit Affairs - @lawnchairthethird Oh y'all wanted a twist?! Listen... if you haven't got on the Illicit Affairs train, then idk what to tell you. This is a dark, sexy fic, with enough twist and turns to keep you guessing throughout. Babygirl loves a cliffhanger, and you will want to keep hanging on throughout!

Beyond the Field - @frandafwen fucking..fuckign.fuckhgfidf....igjfjdifd;..... this is a series of glimpses into the world of Vegebul. the btich fuckin wrote poetry for Vegebul. all of it is amazing, but I read the last chapter in a camera-on work meeting and had to force myself not to cry. A fucking marvel.

Only One Beast - @cuddlesomeone BED-SHARING BED-SHARING BED-SHARING BED-SHARING!!! starting from "bed-sharing...but Vegeta is the bed", this became a fucking amazing fic. I just... I will never get enough of BED-SHARING!!

Me Dedo - @saiyanmazen The gift that kept on giving, and then some. Priest-geta is honestly so brilliant, let alone Bulma being so devilish, leading the priest into the most carnal of sins. This is an absolute treasure, and will probably require some uhhh... re-reading... in future.

ONESHOT

Strength and Weakness - @astral-mariner Set in the same story as Homeworld Lost, this extremely explicit smut is jam-packed with tension, confused and pining Vegeta, bold and brilliant Bulma. The fic so hot that people regularly forget to leave kudos.

Persistence - @lawnchairthethird VIRGIN VEGETA!!! I absolutely headcanon Vegeta as a virgin (though ask me tomorrow and that might be a different story), and this fic is one of my favourite approaches to it. The build up, the dialogue, the smut itself, every part of it is amazing.

Mirai Bulma: an appreciation by Vegeta - @iamakynge It's in the name, but it's still... you won't be prepared for how brilliant and devastating this is. Vegeta honours Future Bulma's life, as well as his own growth. An outstanding piece.

Dynamics - @serenityhime1 Any time someone mentions this I go positively feral. Like Vegeta does in this. For real though, Bulma educating Vegeta on sex might just be my kink. And Vegeta being so animalistic, so alien in his approach to it, is also my kink. This fic...might just be my kink lol.

Bury Me Between Your Ribs - @rozzingit POST-BUU MY BELOVED!!! I said this in my comment on this fic, but this is the post-Buu fic. Devastating, poetic, a reminder of just how fucking perfect this duo is, even in their darkest hours.

Summer Heat - @twenty--one--violets ohjhghghjgh my gooododddd this is so hoootttttt. literally. and figuratively. just... beep boop brain broke. I did a cheeky re-read just now and nearly yeeted myself into the sun. 10/10 no notes

Mercy - @frandafwen oighhgfjk.... post-Buu. probably my favourite timeframe to explore. but not only that, the way this one is written is fucking phenomenal. I just... the way Franda can bring forward new things for a time well-visited in fandom is fucking amazing. Highly recommend this one.

The Vow - @mawrblaidddrwg Majin Vegeta returns under a full moon. Bulma is terrified, not wanting to lose him to the darkness once more. Though killing Goku is on his list, it's not the top of the list... guys, this is so fucking hot. So fucking hot. Majin Vegeta is a Hottie McHottie and I refuse to back down from this fact.

In Another Time Under Another Sky - @saiyanmazen When I fucking tell you... that this is one of the best things I have ever read... I am not exaggerating. A devastating look at what became of Future Vegebul. I can't even think about this now without tearing up. Simply brilliant. Also I think we can all agree we're ignoring what became of Future Bulma in Super, right? Right?!

[galeorderbride]

Seriously, I am blessed <3 this blog was meant to be a tiny little corner that maybe 10 people followed lol. I'm so glad to be wrong because I got to connect with so many wonderful people here :)

I made a poll for a 100 follower milestone oneshot, and the winner was (of course lol) Gale fluff/smut. I've finally finished it, and I seriously hope everyone likes it because I made it for you!

So, can't stress this enough, 18+ MDNI

Oh, and it's not beta read. I will edit later lol if there are any mistakes

Fic (and warnings/description) under the cut and can be viewed on ao3 if you prefer.

Welcome Home

Gale Dekarios x F!Tav 18+ MDNI

Words: 5.2k

Rating: Explicit for graphic smut, piv sex, oral sex (m and f recieving), fingering, creampie, soft!dom Gale, use of pet names (sweet girl, love, etc), light choking with fingers. Fluffy and romantic :)

Summary: Gale and Tav spend their first night in Waterdeep postgame, and he wants to make her feel welcome :)

...

Funny how in the entire, months long adventure against all dangers known to the Sword Coast, the one memory that stuck to Tav the most was meeting Gale. Pulling him out of an unstable portal, the lure of his bright, scholarly voice calling her ‘friend’ in the first fifty words. Little did she know, he spoke to her a prophecy. From that moment on, Tav and Gale spent all their time together, getting lost in his conceptual monologues and trading books as a solace against the ever present violence. 

In between the lines of borrowed books and stolen glances, falling in love was inevitable. From an unexpected kinship, to touching friendship and eventual passionate romance had been the one blessing in such a strenuous journey. Locked in the expectation of each other, eager for the night to fall, for the candlelight to illuminate the azure of Gale’s tent as an open door. A routine after each near death experience, to share two bedrolls squished together and become expert in the ways of making love without bruising their skin on the hard ground below. They were a proper couple by the journey’s conclusion, soaked in love and devotion, ready for the permanency of their relationship to finally bloom with the defeat of the Elder Brain. 

Their affections made clear and official when Gale proposed the evening after the city had been saved. 

One would think with all that familiarity that Tav would have no problem arriving in Waterdeep with her new betrothed. Settling into each other never came easier back in those wretched patches they called camp. Effortless to just exist with confidence. But as soon as Gale and her crossed the threshold into his towers, she felt like a stranger to him. Unsure of what the proper action might be, to the point where she found herself afraid to remove her cloak. 

Everything felt foreign. As if she’d never been anywhere but on the road, either to Moonrise or Baldur’s Gate. The tower was new, of course, but even her clothes felt odd. Clad in a woollen skirt and forest green blouse instead of armour. Hair down and well groomed rather than pulled back for outdoor convenience. Skin clean and devoid of bruises and cuts. As ridiculous as it may sound, she forgot how to be anything else but a scrapping adventurer. And to be in a lavish tower full of every amenity she could dream of, alone in the start of domestic bliss with her beautiful partner. Something so commonplace, yet completely implausible to her. 

“Your palace awaits, dearest,” Gale said, presenting her the main room of the tower with that comical charisma impervious to awkwardness. 

Handsome didn’t begin to describe him. Hair tied back in a half up style and an ivory button down held tight against his body with brand new suspenders. Healthy and happy, soon to be free of the orb and all the consequences along with it. Tav had never seen him so elated. He simply glowed with the promise of their love. The promise of peace. 

Tav smiled, the stretch of her lips failing to reach her eyes as she pondered about the tower. Distracting herself with the warm toned decor of brown leather couches and exposed stone walls. Gale magically lit the fireplace at the centre of it all, warming them against the cooling weather of late Uktar, made colder by the tidal winds of Waterdeep. She wanted to say something charming, but couldn’t find the words. 

“I’m sorry, Gale, I’m—a bit nervous. Not certain why, this should all be so normal but…oh, I don’t know,” she said, scoffing at herself. 

Gale stepped close to her, wearing that affectionate, closed-mouth smile he always did when she needed reassurance. Strong, sculpted hands found their way to her arms, squeezing just hard enough to ensure her eyes stayed on his. Shivers down her spine juxtaposing with the growing warmth of the fire. 

“This isn’t exactly normal for us, hmm? Accustomed to living under the impression that we may die the next morning, worried about whether we’d turn into illithid or get done in by Bhaalists. Not much time for the soothing hum of what we once missed,” he said, caressing the sides of her arms lightly. “Fret not, I’m a little unsure, myself. We’ll adjust. How about a glass of wine?” 

Tav felt eased by his touch, and his offer for something to take the edge off. “You read my mind. Thank you.” 

Placing a small kiss on her forehead, he said, “Have a seat by the fire, my love. I’ll prepare the finest blend in my cellar.” 

Gale bustled about in the concealed kitchen as Tav settled herself on the sofa closest to the windows, enlivening the living room with maroon and yellow stained glass and piles of books on their sills. Everything there was to know about him existed within these walls, the tower containing his very life breath. Excitement beat through her heart as she contemplated all the things he had not thought to tell her, waiting to be found in every corner. Silly things like unfinished poems and a favourite paper weight, if he played different songs on the piano at different times of day. All in between that she was meant to spend her life learning with him. 

“Athkatlan clarry,” Gale said as he walked into the living room with two goblets and an intricate, tall bottle of mulled wine. “I’ve been thinking about this blend since we first cooked together. How you loved those darker spices, cloves and peppercorns, and your admiration for the blackberry sauce I made. How I hoped I’d be able to share this particular bottle with you. I’m glad that dream has come true.” 

Notes of thyme and cherry touched her lips before the wine blanched her tastebuds with the heavenly taste of vanilla. Warm, mirthy flavours that wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. The soft happiness of being thought of enough that he had a wine decision months before they could even pop the cork. That was simply Gale; he had a way of making her feel like the only person in the realms.  

“You had my tastes down so early,” she said. “I can’t possibly compete.” 

“Don’t think of it as a competition. You’ve never been to Waterdeep, have no family or friends here, and yet you still came here with me when I asked you. For that, the least I can do is think of a wine to match your tastes,” he said. 

Tav smiled, confident enough to rest her hand on top of his, “Where you go, I go. That was decided the same day you chose this wine for me.” 

Neither of them noticed how close they’d drawn, each sip of their wine leading them nearer and nearer. The sides of their thighs touching, Gale’s arm lingering behind her back, ready to snake his arm around her waist. Her hand still held his, comfortably resting on his lap. That beckoning look in his eye had Tav spellbound, the seductive leer ending in the corners of his lips, stretched to a subtle, desirous smile. An expression incapable of feigning innocence, pooling with a tender but heated want. 

Gale slowly lifted her hand to his mouth, peppering soft kisses against each knuckle grazing against his beard. Tav’s stomach tightened, tingling with sensations of desire. Heat from the fire sunk into already burning skin and the warm blush of the wine in her blood. She often wondered if he did magic when he touched her like this, rendering her still and speechless. Her pride would never let her ask him, lest she find out the actual answer and prove to the world that she really was just a fool for him. 

“Come here,” he said with his lips grazing her fingers, “Let me kiss you.” 

Soft lips found hers as Gale finally let that hovering arm wrap around her waist. Unburdening her nerves with every caress of his palm against her back, slowly but surely finding its way under her blouse. Fingertips grazed her spine, counting each inch from the base to the top. His other pressed against her cheek, holding her close. Tav melted under his kiss, a light tickle between her legs as he slipped the tip of his tongue inside her mouth. Not too much, just enough to ease them into a gentle make out. Gale never rushed. He enjoyed playing with her, feeling the warm wetness of her lips, the amused yelp when he nipped at the fragile tissue, all the ways to get her body to lean into his. And it always worked, proven by the hook of her leg over his thighs, the silken heat of her core driving him. 

Tav could’ve stayed like that for ages, able to forget the world around her with his passionate kissing. He always said he could do better, develop his technique after being out of practise for so long. But even the first time, tucked away in that starry illusion he conjured, it was the best she ever had. 

“You deserve to be worshipped every single day, my dearest love. But tonight, especially. For the first time, we are home. This is your home, if you’ll have it. I want everything to be perfect,” he said, mouth still hovering over hers. The taste of his breath on her tongue, laced with vanilla wine and spearmint. 

“Oh, Gale, you’ve done so much to make me feel welcome. Things are already perfect,” Tav said. 

“Then let’s make perfect last. Come with me upstairs, there’s more I’d like to show you,” he said. 

Hand-in-hand, they left the living room and walked up the spiralling steps to the second level of his tower. Tapestries of different scenes hanging on the wall, all with accents of florals, latticework and myths of great heroes of history. Candlelit sconces lighting their way up. Nothing short of a fairytale, as if she was wandering the castle of a magical prince. Well, in a way, she was. 

Somehow, she imagined the study he showed her on their first night together. The very centre from which he cultivated his life before meeting her. But he led her through a different door, one leading to a spacious, well kept bedroom. A king-sized four poster bed against the furthest wall, a closed terrace with beautiful double doors. Night projected from the moonlit glass, droplets of rain beginning to patter against the panes. Another fireplace sat adjacent to the bed, lit amongst intricate stone just like the one downstairs. In front, two armchairs and a circular rug, different shades of dark red sewn in an intricate style. 

“Oh my goodness, don’t tell me this is your bedroom? You wizards do like to live lavishly,” Tav said as he led her into the room. She stood in the middle, craning her neck to see every hanged painting and arcane trinket on each surface. Even after looking two or three times, there was something else to see. 

“To tell the truth, the luxury of the room isn’t for me. Not really. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t appreciate fine decor and comfort. But most nights, I just fell asleep in my study. I wanted this to be something to share, to be a shelter of beauty and warmth for the one I love. Now that you’re here, I finally have a reason to close the books at the end of the night,” he explained, joining her where she stood and holding her close. 

Tav smiled, running her hands up his chest and landing at his shoulders. The soft cotton of his button down like a cool breeze against her palms. Both his arms were snug around her waist, swaying her lightly in place. 

“I regret to inform you that neither room will be offering much sleep, Mr. Dekarios,” she said, craning her head up to meet his lips in a soft, chaste kiss. “Not if I’m in here.” 

“Oh, believe me, sleep was never an option,” He said, grinning between kisses that deepened with each smack of their lips together. “Tonight, let me welcome you to your new home. Show you the splendours of this tower and all the magic it can provide—in the mortal way, of course.” 

Teasing him was all she could think to do to temper the giddiness within her. His poetic charm folding her stomach upside down. “Don’t be too fantastic, or I’ll start asking for it every night.” 

“Hmm, a threat or a promise?” He asked, but there was no need for an answer. 

Words were nothing compared to the sultry kiss he gave her, deepened with the slide of his tongue along her bottom lip and a soft moan crackling from Gale’s throat. This was the start of their lives together, away from danger and unpredictability. Beginning with a simple kiss in the middle of the bedroom that would be theirs forever. 

“Now, darling, you have a choice,” he said to her, turning her body so her back pressed against his chest, his hands caressing her arms, shoulders and collarbone, just barely avoiding the peak of her covered breasts. His stubble tickled against her bare cheek, unable to resist planting little kisses along the side of his jaw as he moved her around. 

He continued, “Armchair or bed?” 

Tav’s entire body wanted to erupt in embarrassing giggles, but managed to keep her cool as she took a long, drawn out breath. “What exactly am I choosing these for?” 

“Choose,” he demanded. 

She bit her bottom lip, tempted by the tender warmth of the firelight, “Armchair.” 

He moved her body a couple steps to face the chair, whispering in her ear, “In that case, I’m going to get you naked now. And then, I’m going to make you cum on the armchair. All well and good, sweet girl?” 

Every part of her tingled at the sound of such a pet name. At this point, she’d have let him do just about anything he wanted. Her voice shook with anticipation, “Oh yes, all well and good.” 

Gale began with the small buttons on her blouse, keeping her back to him. As his fingers undid each one, he kissed the side of her neck, the sound of his lips sucking and licking at her skin fluttering in her ears. Tav reveled in the shots of warm air as her shirt opened more and more, all the way until Gale pulled the fabric from her shoulders. A simple, cream coloured bra kept her covered, until he snapped the clasp off with expert precision, freeing her breasts for him to squeeze and knead. Tav sighed deeply, letting her head fall into the crux of his shoulder while his fingertips teased around her hardening nipples. Tracing the little buds and continuing to kiss her neck at the same time, so fervent that a trail of saliva dripped from his mouth down her skin. It was positively debauched, and yet so filled with devotion and love. His hands never allowed a part of her to go untouched, not even trying to seem like he wasn’t falling apart for her in an instant. 

Letting go of her breasts, he let his hands trail to the belt of her wool skirt, chafing against her bare waist. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear now, simple affirmations like ‘beautiful’, ‘magnificent’, ‘my entire universe’. Tav could listen to him all night, just lying in his arms while he shuddered every adjective to describe her humanly possible. But not now, as he tucked his thumbs into the skirt and gently pulled the fabric off her rounded hips. He played with the lace of the matching underwear to her now discarded bra, letting his palms wander from the hem of the panties to her butt, squishing the soft flesh. 

“How can something be so soft? You defy the greatest alchemists with the way you’ve been sculpted,” he said, giving her a playful pinch on her left cheek. Tav couldn’t stop that giggle, jumping forward as she felt the ticklish sting. A little distraction so he could bend down and pull off the last bit of clothing she had, now fully naked in the middle of his bedroom. Their bedroom.  

“Shall I take a seat?” She asked, motioning towards the armchair. 

“Mmm, yes please. So obedient, I don’t even have to tell you where to go. Seems you left your stubbornness in Baldur’s Gate,” he said, watching closely as her hips swayed in her walk to the chair. Each second he was blessed to witness her, she became more beautiful. Magic not even he could conjure. Intertwined so strikingly with the glittering veins of her soul. 

Tav giggled, sitting on the chair with her knees tucked to her chest, as if hiding her body from the man who’d seen it countless times now. “Trust me, when I get more comfortable here, I’ll be back to my normal, argumentative self.” 

Gale smirked, stepping in front of the chair, towering over her sitting form. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, my love. But I’ll not tolerate closed legs in this bedroom, dearest. Open up.” 

With a quick motion of his finger, a magical, invisible force pried her legs open on the chair. Tav gasped as she felt the soles of her feet drag along the velvet fabric. The cool air kissed the surface of her core, already wet with desire before he’d even touched her. How could she not, when exposed to the ethereal beauty of Gale. The absolute picture of perfection to her, with his flowing chestnut hair lined with grey, his toned torso glistening under candlelight as he slipped off his shirt. He was impossible not to look at, as if he walked out of a classical painting. 

Firelight glowed against her skin, her muscles melting into the comfort of the chair as she watched her beloved smirk at her. Eager tingles danced across her palms, yearning to touch his bare torso, feel the prickle of his body hair, kiss the orb tattoo that would soon heal away forever. Addicted to caressing her body against his own, coated with hot sweat as she imagined him everywhere on her, inside her. The craving was too much, Tav bringing one hand to knead her breast and the other down to her clit, gently rubbing the sensitive tip between her index and middle finger.

That is, until Gale lowered to his knees in front of her and moved her hand away. He grasped her wrist, bringing her fingers up to her mouth and shoving them inside for her to eagerly suck. 

“No no, sweet girl,” he said, clicking his tongue, “Keep those fingers in your mouth. Let me make you cum.” 

“Oh, Gale,” she said through her fingers, still prodding at her tongue, “Please…” 

“Aww, please? Please what?” He asked, his voice dark with lust as he inched his face closer between her legs, enough to feel the chill of his breath blowing against her clit. Tav exhaled, craning her head back as she fought the pulsing desire to be filled, licked and sucked until she was ruined. 

“P-please make me cum, Gale,” she said, taking her fingers out of her mouth as she spoke. 

He raised a brow at her, distancing his head back as he said, “Put those fingers back, beautiful. And then I’ll do exactly what you want.” 

They never had much time during their journey to enjoy themselves for a while. To let Gale take his time in pleasing her, demanding things of her. Tav felt even more blessed than she already did to be here with him, where they could spend the night adoring each other, exploring every way to make love. This, though, seeing Gale confident and assertive, would definitely be a favourite. 

Placing her fingers back in her mouth, letting him watch as she poked and prodded at her tongue and throat. A muffled, heart stopping growl emanated from him as he neared her pussy again, letting a trail of saliva fall from his lips, sinking onto her clit. All she could do was whimper, her inner thighs shaking as he finally trailed his tongue all across her slit. Using the tips of his thumbs to spread her open as he gently wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking and kissing at the sensitive bud to keep her irresistible sounds in his ears. Mixing with his own moans, debauched with the slick of her essence drenching his beard. 

Gale loved pressing at the soft flesh of her pussy with his thumbs, giving in to the temptation and pushing one inside of her. Continuing to lap at her clit, feeling it swell against his tongue as she drew closer to climax. He couldn’t help but smile every time she bucked her hips into him, using her free hand to clutch the arm of the chair while she struggled to keep sucking her fingers. Gods, sometimes she’d get carried away, and he’d hear a little gag from her throat, driving him further into her cunt. 

“Gods above, that feels so good! I’m close…so close,” she exclaimed through her filled mouth, concentrating on the intense precipice she balanced on. Her hips grinding against him, nearly screaming at the sensation of his lips slurping at her clit. Only a few more seconds went by before an orgasm snapped through her insides, hooking her legs over his shoulders and crying out his name. “Gale! Gale! Ugh…” 

The paradise of tasting her was unmatched to any other experience. Floral, buttery notes along his tongue as he used the tip to lightly trace across her clit, shaking from overstimulation. Gale replaced her fingers with the thumb that thrusted in her pussy, sharing in the flavour of her orgasm. 

“Good girl,” he said, “You taste amazing, I could survive on your cunt alone. Always doing so well for me, but I need to see it again, alright?” 

Tav’s sigh was breathless, wheezing with pleasure as she came down from the intense climax. She didn’t even have time to answer before he hugged his arms around her hips, scooping her legs around his waist to lift her off the chair. Limp in his arms, she began to kiss across his neck, licking and sucking to the point of marks. More desire between her legs when he’d groan in her ear, or shudder at the sensation of her nails gently scratching down his back. 

Silk sheets met her backside as he lowered her down to the mattress. Plunged into even more comfort, certain she’d never experienced a softer bed. Her arms stretched above her head, letting Gale do whatever he wanted to her. Staring at her, he never allowed his eyes to part as he undid the buckle of his belt, removing his trousers. Tav bit her lip when his cock sprang free, thick and hard with the slick of precum dotting the tip. 

“Let me touch it,” she begged, remembering she’d get what she wanted if she was polite, “Please.” 

Gale laughed, that flirtatious scoff he did when he knew he was a step ahead. Circling her like prey, driven to madness by the beauty of Tav. He couldn’t believe she wanted to be with him, stay with him for the rest of their lives. A silent vow in his head that swore he’d do everything to show how thankful he was. She’d given him the greatest reward a person could ever ask for. 

“So pretty when you’re begging for my cock,” he said, climbing onto the bed behind her. Positioning himself so his waist aligned with her face. Gale shook with arousal when he witnessed her licking her lips, eyes glued to the head. He asked her, “Do you want to taste me, dearest?” 

Tav nodded, moving her neck forward to envelop her mouth along the head of his cock. Gently caressing the tip with her lips, rimming the tip of her tongue along the sensitive ridge. He shuddered, almost cumming down her throat right there, just enough strength to resist. This was her time, and once was never enough for Gale. He traced his fingertips down her body, stopping to pinch her nipples and graze her inner thighs before sliding two into her cunt. She yelped in surprise, lowering her mouth to capture his shaft deeper. 

“Suck me all you want, but focus on finishing for me again, sweet girl. I told you I wanted to see it again. Can you do that for me?” He said, voice sensual and darker than his usual tone. Overtaken by extreme lust and the biting need to fill every part of her with his seed. 

Tav nodded with him still in her mouth, her oral fixation kicking in as she felt herself working towards a second climax just because she felt him gently fucking her throat. Combining with the hot, delicate pleasure of him thrusting his fingers inside of her. Massaging her clit with his thumb in perfect circles, hitting every spot she loved. He used his free hand to hold her head on his lap, playing with her sweat-laden hair. 

“Oh gods above, Tav! You give me more than I could ever imagine,” he said, throwing his head back as he relished in the pleasure of her tongue lolling around his cock. “Come for me, my goddess. So perfect, all for me. All for me.” 

Gale’s cock popped out of her mouth as she gasped in ecstasy, a second orgasm blossoming in her core when his fingers hit just the right spot. Her already soaking cunt dripping onto his hand, body hot with sweat and spasming muscles. During her come down, she flicked her tongue along the tip of his cock, tasting the faint saltiness of his precum. Hooked on the sounds of his shaken breath as he laughed with terrifyingly seductive satisfaction. 

Warmth covered her back, so heated and shaken she created her own heatwave. Between heavy breaths, she said, “Flip me over, please? It’s too hot.” 

“What impeccable timing for you to say that. I’m going to fuck you now, love,” he said, quickly grabbing her waist and flipping her to her stomach in one, effortless swoop. Her head hung slightly off the foot of the bed, smiling to herself as she felt Gale move his body between her legs. His cock grinding against her core from behind. 

Kisses trailed down her spine, a calm moan leaving her lips in enjoyment. Giggling as he nipped at her shoulders and scrunched her hair in his fist, pulling just hard enough for a tickling sting. He used his hold on her hair to turn her head, pressing his lips to hers in a passionate, burning make out. Pushing his tongue against hers with unbridled, sultry moans. Never over the taste of him, the scent of him, the weight of him, everything forever. 

“Gale, please, I can’t take it anymore. More, more,” she begged, happily overwhelmed by the wet kisses he spread all over her face. 

“More what, my dear? Use your words,” he whispered, biting and sucking at her earlobe. Tav’s legs bent in desperation as he pressed his rock solid cock at her entrance, teasing the slit but never penetrating. Just pushing the tip, teasing and teasing until she reached the point of crudeness he wanted her to be. 

“Mmm put your cock in me, Gale. I want to come again, please!” She cried out, voice high and tired. 

Allowing him to take control meant more than simply wanting to be submissive during love making. After months of constant fear of death, violence and all other forms of danger, the two of them could finally be vulnerable. Open themselves to one another in any way they liked, for as long as they wished. The very comfort Gale wanted to give her when they arrived at his tower, a beginning of a thousand nights of passion, tenderness and joy. And a thousand more after that. 

“I love you so much, my heart. My soul. You are just…everything to me,” he said, body melting into hers as he slipped his cock inside. Slow, tight stretching conquering every nerve in her body. Endless pleasure in the feeling of being completely taken over by him, his chest against her back as he began to thrust into her stimulated cunt. His hand clutching her ass feverishly. 

“I love you, Gale, please don’t stop! I’m…gonna…” 

Tav couldn’t finish a sentence, not when the wet stretch of his cock thrusting into her kept going and going. His pace was strong yet loving as he kissed every part of her he could reach. Hands holding her head for support. He wanted badly for her to finish again, one more time before he found his own release. There wasn’t much left of him, his cock twitching between her vibrating walls sucking him deeper and deeper. 

There wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t feel something. Clit rubbing against the soft sheets while he pounded into her, languishing within as she felt his rhythm changing the closer he got. Each time he moved, his moans grew into desperate, pleasured whimpers. A sound like paradise to her ears, bringing her nearer to that final climax. Paralyzed under him as she let herself drown in bliss, going silent as her body quaked in orgasm. Muscles tightening with that weaker but heavenly spasm, her mind couldn’t believe he had driven her to such a high. 

“Ohhh, yes, good girl! Finishing so good for me like that, three times. I’m going to make you mine, my love. Make love to your cunt until I cum deep inside you,” he said, growling in her ear like a feral beast. An irresistible side of him, made even better when knowing she was the only person who’d get to see it. 

Both of them moaned in tandem as Gale spilled inside of her, hanging his head in the crux of her neck and shoulder as he held her tighter than ever. Full body tingles coursed through Tav, drunk on the ecstasy of being the vessel for his pleasure. Feeling him soften inside her while he peppered kisses along her back. 

“Welcome home, my love,” he said, tone gentler as he came down from lust. He turned over, laying beside her as their hair hung off the foot of the mattress. 

“You’re quite the host, Mr. Dekarios. Do you do that with all your guests?” She asked with a sly grin. 

Gale wrapped his arms around her shoulders, snuggling their bodies together as he kissed the side of her head. “You’re not a guest, my love. This is your home, as much as it is mine. I’ll spend a thousand days and nights telling you that if I must.” 

Tav hooked her leg across his waist, ignoring the warmth and sweat of their skin so she could be close to him. Be taken to that paradise unique to her beloved wizard. 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

[connorswhisk]

and so it goes (miguel o’hara x spiderman!reader)

hi note this is a fic specifically for transmasc readers. don’t come anywhere near this if you’re a cis woman. you have a million fics you can read that aren’t this one. thank you 🍻

@spokentothewoods here you go ☺️

WARNINGS: Angst, slightly sexual situations >:)

That ever-present tenseness is visible in his shoulders; in truth, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him without it, for as many years as you’ve been working with him. You’ve been working late tonight and could really use a break yourself, but with Jess away for an ultrasound, someone had to stay behind and keep an eye on Miguel.

Perhaps you volunteered for the job a tad too hastily, if the smirk Hobie had flashed in your direction was any indication, but Hobie’s always smirking at things. You’ve gotten pretty used to it.

In any case, even Margo’s signed off for the night. You know Miguel’s the Big Boss In Charge, but…couldn’t he benefit from some chill time?

“That’s it,” you say, yawning. “That’s the last of the logs done. Think I’ll turn in for the night.”

Miguel says nothing. He either is so immersed in his work that he didn’t hear you, or he’s ignoring you - both are likely in their own way.

After a moment’s more of silence, you frown, and web yourself up to his platform. He’s always brooding, that’s pretty normal, but…

Oh, you realize, because you recognize the video footage he’s watching. You’ve never seen it yourself, but you know what it is, where Miguel came from. You know why he is the way that he is.

You contemplate leaving and pretending you saw nothing, but then Miguel turns his head and fixes you with his dark, exhausted eyes, and it’s too late to act innocent.

“Sorry,” you say quietly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. You just…”

“What.” He phrases the word as a statement, not a question. “I just what.”

You sigh. “I worry about you, Miguel. I mean, when you first found me in my universe…you were sad, sure, but you weren’t this angry. I don’t know what changed, but if you ever need to talk…”

“I don’t.” His stare is fixed somewhere past your shoulder, his jaw hard as steel. “Nothing changed. I’m fine.”

“Oh, bullshit,” you tell him, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. “How long have we known each other? I know when you’re lying to me.”

Miguel shakes his head. He’s been working with Jess the longest and all the Spiders respect him as their leader, but he’s never gotten as close to anyone as he has to you. You know this because he told you so himself, a year ago when MJ was killed and you were stumbling around HQ in a haze, the big empty pit in your stomach threatening to swallow you whole.

We all lose people, he’d told you, his voice the gentlest you’d ever heard it. But we persevere. You’re strong, Y/N. You can survive this.

I bet you tell all the Spiders they’re your favorite, you’d joked half-heartedly, desolate and depressed, sure you were right. But Miguel had given you this look that had told you plainly: I am completely serious. And then he’d started to say something, stopped as if he’d thought better of himself, and swung away.

You don’t know what he’d been about to tell you…though maybe you kind of do. The pair of you have never necessarily been the emotionally vulnerable types, but the connection between you is one that cannot be denied.

“I’m fine,” he’s repeating now, still hiding from the truth. “Just tired.”

“Which is exactly why you should call it for the night. You’ve done plenty.”

“I haven’t done enough.”

“Look, just…” You exhale deeply, pull off your mask so you can meet him eye-to-eye. You don’t miss the slight change in his demeanor when you bare your face, the fleeting look of quick relief. “Do you…want a massage or something?”

He blinks. “What.”

“I asked if you wanted a - “

“I heard you.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Ok. So? Your shoulders could really use it, dude.”

“I…” You can pinpoint the exact moment he decides to give in, posture slumped and scowl deepening. “…Fine.”

He turns back to face the screens - thankfully, the video from before is long gone. Miguel says nothing for a long time, ‘til he finally snaps, “Well?”

You lay your hands on his shoulders. You’re no trained masseuse, but your Aunt May does a wicked back rub and you’re sure you can replicate her technique, more or less. And so you try.

Are all shoulder muscles this knotted? Or is Miguel just overworking himself per usual? You’re not sure, but you press as hard as you dare, first with your fingertips, then kneading in and out with your knuckles. Miguel is silent as you work. The only sound he makes is the measured course of his breathing, up-down, up-down, up-down. You can feel it thrumming through your neurons, slow and steady.

“What, sorry?” You didn’t catch what Miguel just mumbled under his breath.

“Can you - go harder?” he repeats, practically spitting the words. He sounds as exhausted as you’ve ever heard him.

Wordlessly, you begin to apply even more pressure, and Miguel moans. You’ve never heard him make a noise like that before, and in your shock, you start and almost back away from him entirely. You manage to keep your wits, though, and you press again in the same spot, feeling the knot aching to unravel beneath his skin.

“Y/N,” he groans - but before you can begin to wrap your head around that, Miguel’s body is freezing up under your fingertips, and suddenly, he’s wrenching himself away from you.

“Woah - you ok?” You drop your hands to dangle by your hips, but you can still feel the buzz in your head, concentrated and slightly painful like a migraine, a hit off a cigarette.

“You should go,” Miguel says quietly, his back to you. “This…you should just go.”

“Ok.” You’re finding it hard to breathe, beneath all the spandex and bindings and confusion. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

“Then what the hell is the prob - “

“GO, Y/N,” Miguel seethes, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. “Just leave me alone.”

You scowl. “Fine.” Pulling your mask down over your face again, you shoot a strand of web over in the opposite direction, pull yourself through the air until you land against the wall and cling there. “Fine, Miguel. Whatever you want. As usual.”

If he looks back at you as you leave, you don’t know. At the moment, you’re too hurt and angry to waste another thought on him.

[sympathytea]

[ID in alt] Zam! The Prince in Yellow himself! This is mainly a design I mocked up to make writing him easier on my brain since having a physical image for me to reference and describe is significantly easier on my brain than not having one. Uh reason he doesn't have the trident this fic is (so far) taking place inbetween ep 4 and 5 rather than like. post finale ok? ok. more fun stuff under the cut (maskless included, along with other details on the fic that i'm writing!!!)

[ID in alt] Kept seeing everyone draw him half blind? Love that for him. I'm assuming that's a reference to his LifeSteal designs either way i think the concept is sick and wanted to work with a character that has that detail worked into the fic as something they need to work with/around since this is a combat heavy series which I'd imagine wouldn't be easy to do with one eye, but not impossible. girlboss is gonna have it rough in the fic though tried to make the scar more obviously trident-shaped? since that's where I'd imagine he'd get it assuming he was sent to the sword civilization against his will? rather than to actually retrieve the eternal sword on his own accord like Tabi was. idk hopefully s2 don't fuck me up some expression testing + additional notes on behavior

(excuse him he's been shaved for this, also IDs in alt) disclaimer uh. very minimal research was done for his behaviors. i'm not a medical professional but i did find a giant thread full of folks who had half-blindness who did mention the head tilt thing as a thing that they did, facial paralysis is from the injury assuming the trident went deep enough to do nerve damage thus the whole 'one side moves other side doesn't' my apolocheese for inaccuracy I'm sure that the tilt thing and the facial paralysis thing are probably a bit too extreme to some folks but due to my artstyle being very exaggerated, this too had to be exaggerated for it to be something noticeable, otherwise its completely hidden despite me being mostly focused towards expressions i have made a decision that might seem jarring to some to..limit the faces of characters in my fic. mainly because all of them are hiding or masking something underneath, it just suits them well to have this be a trait that everyone in pvp civilization shares in various ways Characters like Evbo, Julie, Tabi and Parrot are more obvious masking via emotional repression rather than a physical mask that they wear Wemmbu, Ferre, The Guard Friend and Zam mask due to wearing some form of face covering but once that face covering comes off then they start to be a bit more honest, not having anywhere to hide MinuteTech masks via..other means. More on him specifically later when i get around to designing him. he's fascinating is all im gonna say There are of course other characters in this fic, Marty and Ellie are two iron-sword level specific OCs I made for the sole purpose of being evil, and they are shockingly the only two people in the fic that are full on honest with themselves and others. They have their shit figured out (so I wont feel bad killing them off hehe) PVP Language guy and the similar Wooden Plank guy are the two non-main characters turned major characters that due to their species, literally don't have a face nor a proper voice for others to understand what they are thinking, but if you give them a way to talk, then they will! This project be warned: gonna take a long time. I'm notoriously slow at pumping good quality stuff out. I'm working on like 4? other character refs at the time of writing this and I am nowhere near finished with any of them. Dear god.

Thats all for now, though. Until I post again!

[littleoddwriter]

If you’re comfortable with such, may I request what would happen if Billy’s mother (assuming she’s the source of all his trauma) were to visit the (now) sorority house? Perhaps here, Billy and the reader are already in a relationship

Billy Lenz x Female!Reader | Headcanons (Fic in Bullet Point style)

Hi there! Thanks so much for the request and for waiting patiently. I hope it's okay I decided to do this in bullet points, rather than a regular fic. I just didn't quite know how to write a whole short story around this and be satisfied with it. Either way, I hope you like it! <3 notes; Female!Reader (can be read gender neutral; it's just fem because of the setting); Past Trauma; Mentions of Past Child Abuse; Trauma Reaction; Short Fic in HC-style.

Ko-Fi. Ao3.

It’s winter break, so most of your housemates are gone to visit their families, which leaves you and Billy alone at the sorority house when his mother comes by.

You open the door for her, not knowing who she is, and believing her to simply be an elderly lady that might have gotten confused when she insisted that this used to be her house. 

Billy leaves the attic very rarely, finding comfort in the dark, crammed corners of it; but he’d recognise that voice anywhere, no matter how much she’s aged and how long ago he’s last seen her. His mother.

It shakes him to his core to actually hear her voice coming from herself and not his memories, his mind, or his own imitation of her when he was having an episode. 

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He wants to run down and confront her; although, he knew he’d get tongue tied. He wants to kill her and spray her evil blood all over the walls she once called her own. The walls his developing body often made brutal contact with. The walls that felt like they were closing in on him every time she cornered him and yelled at him as if he was an abomination. Sometimes, he still believes that last part to be true. No matter how often you tell him that you don’t see him as anything less than precious.

While you’re talking to Billy’s mother, you get an odd feeling about her. A sense of dread and danger. It confuses you because to your eyes she’s just an old lady, probably somebody’s grandma, who wasn’t quite right in her mind anymore. 

You try to keep her in the living area downstairs, not trusting her, and also not knowing if Billy is staying where he was up in the attic. 

She goes on and on about how she used to live in this house with her family; her late husband and daughter. She wants to mention something else when she talks about her family, but stops herself. You catch the look in her eyes, and it sends a shiver down your spine. Your inkling about her might not be all wrong, then.

You start to feel uncomfortable and you don’t know how to ask her to leave in the most polite and effective way. That’s when Billy makes himself known by throwing things around in the attic, going by the sounds coming from there. 

When she asks, you say it’s a raccoon that often causes a ruckus up in the attic. She doesn’t buy it. She’s persistent about going upstairs, wanting to see her old rooms and to look into the attic to check if she maybe did leave something behind when moving. 

Luck is on your side when the house mother comes back from an errand and sternly asks the lady to leave, which she does after a little fight; but once she’s threatened with having somebody called on her, she accepts defeat.

After a little chat with the house mother, you excuse yourself and go up into the attic, making sure she doesn’t notice. Billy is in complete distress when you enter. While he’s not throwing things, or himself, around anymore, he’s curled into a ball on the floor in the far corner of the attic where it’s darkest. You can barely even make out his shape. 

Sitting down on the floor near him, you keep quiet, knowing that he’ll come to you or talk to you if he wants or needs to. Sometimes, quiet company is worth much more to Billy.

After a short while, he sits up, reaches his arms out to you, pulls you in, and holds you tight. He’s still shaking and making soft noises of distress, but he’s starting to calm down. 

You simply stay in his arms, shushing him softly here and there. At some point, he shakily reveals that the old lady was his mother. It hits you hard. He’s told you bits and pieces about his past, usually during his episodes and mostly involuntarily. Not knowing what to say to that, you just hold him tighter. 

[lieutenantfloyd]

For the F1 prompts I just wanna request Fernando x reader. Anything at all works - dominant Nando, soft Nando. There's so much out there for the Charles, Carlos, Pierre girlies already

Here With You - F. Alonso

F1 masterlist

Pairing: Fernando Alonso x reader

Summary: Your first day on vacation together in with sleepy cuddles.

Warnings: fluff, minimal dialogue, Fernando being soft and in love.

a/n: I'm almost done writing a much longer fic for him but in the meantime, I think we all deserve a bit of soft! Nando content ♡ This is also somewhat poorly written and not proofread so…

The trip had originally been his idea. Although it didn’t take much convincing at all for you to begin packing your bags. Between your collective work schedules, neither of you got to spend anywhere near as much time together as either of you wanted.

You checked in to the hotel and set your bags down before heading out for a walk around town that ended in a quiet and romantic dinner at a local spot.

After dinner, several drinks, and many kisses. you and Fernando arrived back at your hotel. As you took off your shoes you glanced at the clock on the bedside table, you noted that it was well after 12 am. You stood and stretched, letting a loud sigh escape your lips as you roll your shoulders back. You finally got to take in the room you'd be staying in for the next seven days. The room was large but cozy. Well decorated and plenty big enough for the two of you to live comfortably for your remaining time there.

Departing your spot by the door, you moved deeper into the room. Appreciating how Fernando had dimmed the lights when he entered before of you. Ahead and to the right of the door was a small seating area. A large painting hung above the luxurious couch and a glass coffee table. Back into the hallway and to the left was a door leading to the bathroom. Inside was a large marble vanity with two sinks and a large mirror. A rather modern shower lay on the opposite wall, cased in glass and marble. Back inside the hallway, you once again made your way further into the suite. Directly ahead of you, a wide bed was surrounded by several floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. That was where you found him, laying casually on his back with his eyes closed and his hands behind his head. His casual outfit and soft hair falling onto the sheets completed his look of tranquility.

Not being able to resist the urge to join him, you crawled across the bed just far enough to alert him of your intentions. Needing no further hints, he outstretch his arms and pulled you down with him. Your head found a home on his chest while your limbs intertwined with his own.

You lay together in silence for what felt like hours. Both savoring the moment of domestic bliss your busy lives often robbed you of. Eventually, you stirred in his arms and slowly pulled yourself away from his frame. Reluctantly choosing to slide off the bed and locate your of nighttime essentials before heading to the bathroom. Your actions were met with great protest by him, which you teasingly waved off with the promise of returning as soon as possible. While he hummed in response, it wasn’t long before you heard his soft footsteps approaching.

Inside the bathroom, you slipped out of your day clothes and into one of the fluffy robes you spotted folded neatly atop the counter. A rack of bright white linens was next to the vanity. Scanning for a face cloth, you turned the sink on and let the water heat up. You dipped the fabric into the now-warm water. Leaning down, you brought the cloth to your face and let your stress melt away, as did the tension in your face and neck. You hung the cloth up to dry before reaching into your bag and grabbing your face cream. Applying a dime sized amount to your hands, you closed your eyes and began to massage the cream into your skin. From behind your shoulder, you heard the sound of the door opening and fought the urge to smile. Only seconds later two strong arms wrapped around your torso. His head falls onto your shoulder, a soft hum leaving his lips before you feel him smile while placing kisses against your shoulder. Pausing your routine, you turned around in his grip. Reached up and ran a hand along his jaw, you could feel your gaze grow soft. You always preferred him like this. Needy and gentle, with the fine lines of stress disappearing in favor of a boyish smile.

Unable to fight your body warming up with the need to touch him, the remaining steps of your skincare routine were forgotten as you pushed away from the counter and led him back to bed.

The sheets were warm, a sharp contrast from the brisk room. Pulling the duvet over your body, you sunk into the bed. The day's activities and your stressful work life began to fall off. You felt your body truly relax for the first in weeks. A soft pillow was pulled under your head as you turned to face the wall. Behind you, you heard the lights flick off just as you felt the mattress dip. Once again you felt his strong grasp wrap around you. Slotting himself beside you with his head on top of yours, you reveled in how well your bodies fit together.

Settling against him, he pulled you even closer. An ounce of tension, from all the nights he spent away from you, remained in his body. You’d never understand how he managed it all, but you guessed it was the fulfillment of chasing his life’s dream that kept him going.

“Relax, dearest. Neither of us are going anywhere.” You whispered. Raising your head slightly to place a kiss on his shoulder.

Your words and the small gesture immediately caused him to relax. You felt his chest fall into a steady rhythm and his breathing become stable.

“I wish I could do this with you every night.” He said lowly.

“Mhm. Me too, but I’ll take whatever I can get.” You replied with a sleepy voice.

A tender, contemplative silence filled the room. As it lingered, your tiredness began to the best of you.

"You know it's only you for me, no?"

"Of course, dearest."

He hummed happily at your response before placing a kiss in your hair as you finally lulled off to sleep, with himself not far behind.

[creepycoffins]

Hi hi! I’m one of the anons that asked about your jotakak headcannons, and I just read your latest post about it!! I aye up every little bit of it, thank you for the meal 🙏

I have to ask though, do you have a general idea for how their first ‘reunion’ meeting after the whole running away/marriage/child/divorce debacle Jotaro found himself a part of? Was the forgiveness immediate from Kakyoin’s end, or was he a bit more upset than that? Was the reunion on purpose, or did they happen upon each other like in a SPWF meeting or were paired during a mission and things developed from there? The possible tension…

OOOOOO also also, what do you think Jolyne would feel about their relationship? Would them getting together lead Jotaro towards not being so absent?

Sorry if I’m badgering you at all, they’re just constantly pinging around in my head like a DVD logo.

Hiiii I'm glad u enjoyed my jotakak master's thesis here's some more

I have a general idea about their reunion yeah and tbh I think it'd basically be an accident. I don't think either of them would go out of their way to invite the other back into their life--jotaro because he thinks Kakyoin must hate his ass, and kakyoin because he doesn't think Jotaro is anywhere near ready for that, nor does he know Jotaro still has feelings for him (Jotaro left in the first place and kakyoin isn't about to chase him). I don't think Kakyoin would be upset necessarily, but it is painful for him to think about just because who wouldn't be a little bitter??

I imagine it'd be pre-Morioh though, maybe a year or so. Jotaro may have gone to the swf with the knowledge that he MIGHT see Kakyoin but realized too late that was a huge mistake, there's no way he could just see him and walk away satisfied. Maybe they're in a conference room at opposite ends of a long table, avoiding eye contact. Their ears burn when they have to present statements to the gathered associates. Maybe they catch the same elevator. Maybe theyre on their way out and bump into each other. But it's been like 10 years and god Kakyoins voice has changed, so has Jotaro's and ohhhhhh man a slow burn fic of this would go so hard this is a curse upon me!!! shaking my fucking fist!!!

As for Jolyne, I think part of jotaro's deal (at least in the first few parts) is that he is both the Rabbi and the Golem, the shepherd and the dog. He calls the shots and carries them out because he doesn't want anyone to get hurt if he can help it. Anyway point being that maybe, just maybe, if he didn't do that, if he had a partner to share his burden, if he let himself be vulnerable and soft for a bit, maybe he would've done better with his daughter. Edit: forgot to mention this man didn't really have a father either so :/// a little help would go a long way

Completely self indulgent but imagine jotaro having jolyne every summer. Taking her and kakyoin to the beach. Getting ice cream and driving around with the windows down. Sitting on their porch during a rainstorm. Staying up late building pillow forts and reading with flashlights. Camping in a tent in the backyard. In a kinder world, man!!!

Also ur not bugging me at all they're also bouncing around in my head like a DVD logo and having the excuse to write a bit is doing me good ty for asking!!! 💞

[charmwasjess]

Thoughts about Dooku and Sifo Dyas in the imperial era? Like if they role-swapped with Cal Kestis' or something?

Oh, this is SUCH a fun ask, thank you. :D 

Dooku in an Imperial world. It seems like it would be so tasty, but I might be getting too distracted picturing him in those slutty little uniforms. 

The problem I see is that Dooku by RotS seemed so genuinely fucked up to me, to the point of being almost incapable of thriving in an Imperial world. Legends does a great job depicting his absolutely crumbling mental and emotional state, a man who loses track of his own POV and replaces it with Sidious’s in the middle of a book he’s narrating, but I think even in the relatively sparser depictions of him during that time in current canon, the cracks show. He’s not scheming against either Palpatine or the Jedi effectively, he seems like he’s losing control of his own kingdom of lies, his final (?) Clone Wars appearance with the ritual to psychic-attack Yoda, he seems downright fucking miserable the whole time. He’s like just sitting in a room dissociating when Sidious calls to tell him he’ll need his blood for this ritual, and you can fucking HEAR his sigh. 

Beyond his emotional and mental state, I don't feel like we have a clear idea of what Dooku thought his own end game for after the war. Stover’s batshit “honorable retirement in Sidious’s wonderful new Empire” smells a little off to me and I think the RotS novel got decanonized? I could see him wanting to take over training of the Inquisitors - fuck, he’s been trying to do that with his Sith apprentices for ages - but really, is Sidious going to let him anywhere near that project? Somehow, I don't think so.

I think Dooku ends up quite like he himself daydreams about in Yoda: Dark Rendezvous:

I don’t see a depressed, lightning-cooked shell of himself doing particularly well or lasting long in a cutthroat Imperial command structure. Vader was groomed for the role for years and still is shown struggling with his position in the OT. 

Of course, it’s much more fun to picture him coming to his senses, realizing Sidious’s bullshit, and joining the fight against the Empire in some kind of personal vendetta against the man who convinced him to destroy everything he loved and then planned to dump him, but… I don’t know. Dooku seems broken and defeated to me at the end, and coming to his senses about everything he gave up to get to that rock bottom, I think would completely collapse him as a person. I’m trying to do something like this in my fic The Thunder Answered Back, which... perhaps tellingly... hasn't been updated in a year because Dooku just keeps lying down on the floor. 

Sifo-Dyas is much more interesting and likely to my mind, because he’s essentially been preparing his whole life for this moment. The Living Force has him by the end of his life being able to use his precognition effectively enough that the Council is using it as a tool, presumably that would be a huge advantage in staying one step ahead of Imperial raids and Inquisitors. He’s also a Jedi Master, former High Councilmember, trained by a High Republic era Jedi Master himself. He represents a huge amount of generational knowledge of the Jedi Order.

@dapurinthos had a FANTASTIC Sifo-Dyas on the Path AU post reply somewhere that I wish I could find because they are smarter and funnier than me and it was truly perfect. In summation: yes, Sifo-Dyas is a huge pain in the ass for the Empire. Boinking Inquisitors on the head features strongly.

Now. Fanfic nonsense it? Swap in younger idealist Dooku and his seer bestie Sifo-Dyas into a Cal Kestis scenario? Two brave fated young Padawans against the Empire? No. They die the first day. Going off just the first part of Dooku: Jedi Lost, those two idiots lost a fight with: a bookshelf, each other, literally some bacta, a hallucination (several times), Dooku’s dad, moss… and that’s just going off the top of my head.

Sorry guys. They get crushed in one of those scary doors in like the first two seconds.

[thief-of-eggs]

My Roman Empire is the first-come popularity effect on fanfics, and how easily amazing works can be lost when you sort by kudos only.

Hear me out- the most jaw-dropping, heart wrenching, soul satisfying fanfic can be posted for a fandom/ship and not have anywhere near the amount of kudos that the top fics have, even if the top fics are mid in comparison.

The reason for this is because the top fics are often the ones that were posted during the height of the fandom/ships popularity. And while they were certainly amazing for the time, and while they’re nowhere near bad fics, they might not be the actual best in the fandom/ship, even if they appear at the top when searching by kudos. A lot of kudos on the top fics are old kudos, which stay there forever and ever and add to the immortality of fics posted during the height of popularity.

When looking for new fics in fandoms/ships, I like to look for those lesser known ones through either A) sorting by “date updated” and clicking “complete works only”, then scrolling to see the more liked fics. The diehard fans in each fandom will be on top of new fics posted, so if, on average, finished fics in a fandom currently get around 100kudos, but you see one with 300, that must be a relatively good fic in the fandom (one that you never would’ve seen if sorted by kudos, especially if the top liked ones have 3k plus kudos)

Another way is to sort by kudos while adding a date range to your search. Depending on how many fics get posted a month, you can search for the past week, past months, past 6 months, etc, and sort by kudos to find the top fics from that time period.

I’ve found so many beautiful fics this way, especially for fandoms that lost popularity in recent years. And I do want to be clear- this is no hate to the top liked fics in fandoms! So so many of them are well deserving of the kudos they have- they got popular for a reason after all!

BUT, this is a reminder that there are OTHER fics out there, beyond pages 2-3 of most liked kudos!! Low amount of likes is NOT a determining factor, so long as the lower liked fic is from more recent times.

So, once you’ve plowed through the first few pages of top-kudos fics- turn to the newer ones!! There are beautiful fics just waiting to be found, I promise you <3

[musings-of-a-rose]

The Deal

Pairing: Joel Miller x Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 6500+

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: Look, I just had a thought and this happened. Don’t come at me. Huge thanks to @vanemando15 for reading this over and telling me I wasn’t insane for it. 

**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!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Joel Masterlist

Tommy Miller Masterlist

--------

7 years ago, the world went to hell. Infection spread overnight and everyone I knew was turned, some trying to attack me, throwing up as I escaped.

Do they know what they’re doing? God I hope not. 

I’d been on the go pretty much ever since, only managing to find security for about a year in a secluded cabin before raiders found me. I took out 2 of their men and stabbed their leader in the shoulder before escaping, leaving them to battle the clickers that had been following their group, unbeknownst to them. 

It’s several months after that day. I’ve managed to recoup some of my things, grateful I had stashed a few emergency bags in case I had to leave without being able to gather anything up. I’ve not settled anywhere long. I know they’re out there looking for me - if they survived the clickers. They were a resourceful lot so I can’t be sure who won in that fight.

I’m careful. Quiet. Never going near bigger settlements and definitely staying away from the QZ. They attract too much attention and honestly, I’m not interested in being in a military camp.

There’s no secure houses around here, so I climb a tree, hauling my pack up the trunk as I climb, finally settling higher up in the branches. I reach in my pack and pull out some rope, tying my body to the tree so I don’t fall out when I inevitably fall into a restless sleep.

The click of a gun wakes me from sleep with a start. I look around, consciousness returning to me quickly when I hear a voice from below, a drawl to it.

“Toss down your pack.”

I look down and see 2 men. I can’t make out their faces in the dim light, but I don’t need to see them to know they’d shoot me out of this tree. I must not have hidden myself in the leaves as well as I thought. 

“Don’t be stupid, darlin’. Toss it down,” the second man says opposite the first man, a slightly higher voice with the same drawl. They’re either from the same region or maybe brothers.

The hammer pulling back on the first man’s gun has me scrambling. I put my hands up as well as I can.

“Ok, ok. I’m tossing it down.”

I can’t do anything up in this tree, but maybe I’d have a chance on the ground. Somehow I doubt it, but if I stay here, I’ll die for sure.

I untie the backpack and toss it down to the first man who catches it with one hand, placing it on the ground, eyes never leaving me. 

“Now it’s your turn. Untie yourself and come down. And don’t be stupid.”

I nod, untying myself and dropping the rope down to the man before I climb down. The second my feet hit the ground he’s on me, shoving me face first into the trunk of the tree, a strong, large hand pressed in between my shoulder blades. His other hand roams my body, checking for weapons. He grabs my shirt and spins me around, shoving my back against the tree as his arm comes up to push on my chest, pinning me there. 

“You the girl them raiders lookin’ for?” The second man says as he comes into my vision. 

“Who?”

The man who has me pinned pushes my body up the tree, scraping my back as my feet kick out, unable to find the ground anymore. 

“Answer him.”

My hands grope at his arm, a futile attempt to get him to put me down. 

“Maybe? Please, put me down!”

The man studies me for a moment before letting go, my knees giving out and I slam into the ground, breathing shaikly for a moment. These are not men to fuck with. Before I can think of my next move, the second man squats next to me, yanking my arms behind my back and tying them off. 

“Don’t think about runnin’, darlin’.”

The first man’s flashlight is on us to give him some light to see by. I look up at him as he’s tying my wrists together and hate myself a little because this man is hot as hell, the space between my thighs fluttering at a thought I haven’t entertained in years. He’s got dark hair, curls that have started to fall on his forehead, freckles splattered across olive toned skin, and eyes that are as dark as mud on a rainy day. Eyes you could get lost in. Once he finishes, he stands up, dusting his hands off as he moves to grab my pack, starting to rifle through it. The first man grips my arm, roughly helping me to stand back up.

“Are you the girl?” the first man grunts out and I turn my head to look at him, squinting up at the flashlight. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking-”

SMASH!

My head flies back as the first man’s fist makes contact, my head just barely missing the tree behind me. I’m seeing stars, head pounding and my jaw feels like it was nearly dislocated. I swallow back my cry of pain, not wanting to show any weakness.

“You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about, sweetheart. Now…are you the girl?”

I look at him, throwing all of my strength and fight behind my eyes. “Fuck. You.”

I’m met with his fist again, this time he lets my body hit the floor, staring at me as I spit out blood on the forest floor. 

“Joel.” The second man speaks to the first and I’m finally given a name to my assailant. 

“She hasn’t answered-”

“I know but you don’t have to punch her, damn.”

The second man turns on a flashlight of his own, squatting down in front of me. His fingers firmly but gently grip my chin and I wince as he turns my face to him. He shines the light on me, studying the bruises. 

“You ok?”

“Does it matter?”

He lowers the light and my eyes take a second to adjust back to the darkness. When they do, I can see a glint of sadness and regret in his eyes. 

“It does, actually. ‘M sorry about my brother. He has a…he doesn’t like it when people don’t answer him when he asks.”

“I bet he’s real fun at parties.”

The second man laughs and again I hate myself for loving the way it sounds, light and like sunshine, but also like he was unfamiliar with the action. 

“Oh yeah. Big hit.”

“Tommy.” The first man, Joel, speaks to the second man, Tommy, in a warning tone.

“What? You can’t just punch answers from everyone, Joel.” He turns back to me, eyes meeting my defiant ones. 

“Are you the girl?”

“It really doesn’t matter. You’re selling me off either way.”

Tommy looks a little sad. “No. We can let you go if you aren’t her.”

I scoff, looking between them. “Yeah, ok.”

Tommy studies me for a few more moments before turning to look at Joel, who moves forward to push me, standing, against the tree. He takes my rope out and starts to tie me to the tree.

“Maybe you just stay here and figure out who you are.”

I spit in his face and he slaps me, my neck spinning quickly to the side, pain radiating up my cheek.

“Think about your next move, sweetheart.”

Joel and Tommy walk a few feet away, setting up a camp for the night after checking the perimeter. They take the food from my bag, splitting it between them and I lament the loss of the Butterfinger bar I had found a few months back. 

What do I do? Either way, I’m fucked. If they sell me as a slave, it won’t be pretty for me. I’ve heard of what they do and seen it myself when I had to pass by a camp. If they sell me to the raider I stabbed? That might actually be worse. I’ve never known a raider to be merciful.

Which is hilarious considering most of them used to be the wealthiest people in the country.

I drift off into a light sleep, my brain searching for a way out and finding none. 

—----

The next morning, I’m woken by rough hands undoing the binds that tied me to the trree. My eyes blink open and I see Joel and fuck this guy is gorgeous too. Angrier looking than Tommy, but a strong nose, patchy facial hair, and soft brown hair. His eyes are very similar to Tommy’s but very different. Something had happened to Joel. Something that broke him and made him this man in front of me. 

Also, there’s no way they aren’t brothers. 

Rope removed from the tree, he ties it to my binds, making a sort of leash. He ties the other side to his own wrist, binding himself to me. He answers my questioning look with a grunt. 

“Don’t think about runnin…Have you figured out who you are yet?”

“It doesn’t matter. You just want to know if you can get more money.”

His eyes find mine and I glare back at him, trying to meet his angry energy with my own. 

“Hard to believe you’re worth what he’s askin’.”

I chuckle. “Can he lift his arm over his head?”

Joel pauses, head tilting as he studies me. “No.”

“That was me.”

He looks surprised. Well, as surprised as he can look. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I have a lot in me. Untie me and find out.”

Joel chuckles then and I need to stop because I fucking adore this sound, despite it’s dark undertone. 

“Not today, sweetheart. I don’t mess with cargo.”

“You hit me 3 times yesterday.”

Joel looks at me, his eyes shifting to my cheeks where he had hit me before meeting my gaze. “Par for the course.”

I hate him. But more than that I hate myself for the tingling I felt last night coming back and settling between my thighs the longer he looks at me. 

We walk for a week, Joel still questioning me every chance he could, chuckling at me as I trip when he yanks the rope binding us. Tommy gives me a reprieve, more gentle than his brother. But I know he could overpower me in a second with his broad shoulders and part of me is tempted to have him try.

On the third day, Joel comes to me after they’ve eaten, bringing me the leftover scraps. He’s tied me to the tree again, the bark leaving scrapes and cuts in my skin. He shoves food in my mouth, reminding me not to bite him. I don’t, but I do tuck that idea in the back of my head in case I see an opening. 

“We’ll be at their camp in about couple weeks. I don’t envy you when you get there.”

They had been debating up until now, Tommy saying they should bring me elsewhere, that I don’t deserve what the raiders will do to me when they give me over. Joel seems to ponder this, telling Tommy they couldn’t just let me go as I seem pretty resourceful and would most likely come back to kill them.

I mean, the thought had crossed my mind when they first caught me. But now? I’m not so sure. It’s not Stockholm Syndrome, but more that I can see the weariness around their eyes, shoulders slumping a little more when they talk about payment or any other nasty business, as if it’s wearing on them. Tommy more so than Joel. 

I can’t go to the raiders. I won’t survive that. 

One night, I’m tied to the tree as usual, Joel and Tommy huddled around a small fire, debating my fate like it was hockey scores. Joel was attempting to fix his boot, Tommy trying to make something edible out of their meager stash. It’s clear they weren’t prepared to feed me for this much time, but they have no choice.

“We could take her to Charles?”

Joel shakes his head. “He’ll only pay half of what the raiders will.”

“Yeah but her life would be better.”

“Charles is a slaver, Tommy.”

“Let’s not kid ourselves, Joel. We’re takin’ people and selling them for profit.” Tommy spits out his words, like he could barely bring himself to say it for all the disgust he has for himself.

Joel pauses in his repairs and looks up at Tommy. “Survival. We’re tryin’ to survive, Tommy. Ain’t no profit in that.”

“We get supplies and they get a life of slavery. How is that not profit, Joel?”

“Hey - let’s not forget the time you fucked up and got a gash so bad that it needed stitches, which got infected so we had to trade people for medication.”

Tommy was quiet. “You should’ve let me-”

“I’m not lettin’ you die, Tommy.”

Mustering up my courage, I speak loud enough for them to hear me but not loud enough that I’m yelling.

“I-I can help.”

They both stop what they’re doing and turn to look at me, Joel muttering “Here we go,” under his breath. 

“Look, sweetheart. No amount of beggin’ or vowing to do somethin’ for us is going to make us let you go.”

“I’m not asking to be let go.”

That got their attention.

They exchange a look before turning back to me. “What's that now?” Joel asks.

“I..I know you can’t let me go. I wouldn’t let me go either. But I can’t go to the Raiders, Joel.”

Joel shrugs, but Tommy’s expression changes, his eyes not quite meeting mine out of guilt. 

“Listen…I can help you. Cook, repair things, build shelters, whatever-”

“We’re capable of that, sweetheart.”

“I’m not doubting that. I’ve seen you guys work. But…look, I know how to stretch a meal, how to forage, hunt. I can make functional items. I’ve been on my own for a long time. I’ve learned a lot.”

Joel chuckles, glancing back at Tommy, who appears to be considering my offer.

“Again, sweetheart. We can-”

“I have medical knowledge.”

Joel fell silent, staring me down as Tommy sits up a little straighter. 

“You? Have medical knowledge?”

I nod. “Before all of this, I was halfway through my residency.”

They’re both quiet. A little too quiet.

“I know that we don’t trust each other, so you could continue to tie me up or whatever you needed to do to feel comfortable. But I can…I’m offering to…take care of you. Both of you.”

Joel stares at me for a minute before getting up and nodding at Tommy, who gets up and follows him. They go out of earshot of me, presumably to discuss whether to accept my offer or reject it. I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s the latter.

It takes them a while before they come back, Joel striding up to me and glaring down into my face.

“You have one week to prove your worth.”

I can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes me. “Th-thank you. I know I can help-”

Joel waves a hand at me. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t be stupid. And do as we say.”

“Yes. I promise I will.”

He grunts, going back to sit down and resume working on his boot. Tommy comes up and gives me a small smile, untying me from the tree but keeping a firm grip on my wrist binds. 

“Can you come help with dinner?”

I nod, but Joel lets out an exasperated sigh. “Just tell her, Tommy. You don’t have to ask her permission.”

“You do it your way and I’ll do it mine.”

I follow Tommy over to the fire and he sits me down, tying the rope around my binds to himself, just as we do when walking. I get to work, making a meal out of the bare supplies they have, getting Tommy to open up a bit, the both of us laughing and joking by the end of it, earning ourselves a glare from Joel.

It goes like this for a few days, Joel being the gruff, hard one as usual, and Tommy opening up more and more. The more I talk to him the more I see what I think is the pre-infection Tommy, like a ray of sunshine, lighting up the world with that smile and sweet talking Texan accent of his. I can see the tension starting to leave him, just a little, as he starts to trust me.

Joel on the other hand, doesn’t trust me for shit. 

I meant what I said. I wouldn’t run. I made a deal and I intend to keep it. I have to admit, it was nice having people around, someone to talk to. And I do like having something to do. It had been years since I had taken care of someone besides myself and I loved the change of pace, only being used to surviving alone all this time. 

One day, Joel comes back from gathering wood to see me and Tommy building the fire pit, no binds on my wrists and no rope connecting me to anything. He lost his shit at that, calling Tommy a “fucking dumbass” for not tying me up. But as Joel ties the ropes to my wrists, I notice that he leaves them a little looser than normal, obviously noticing that I didn’t bolt earlier. And I could have - Tommy would’ve let me go. Maybe. 

Another day later and Joel finally lets me work on his boot, the sole of it being the problem. It takes me a few hours, but I manage to fix it, handing it back to Joel who had been watching me the entire time, as if I would sabotage his boot. He tried it on and walked around, kicking out his foot and stomping it to test the strength of my fix. When it holds, he hums. 

“Not bad.”

He’s still tense as shit, but at least I earned a little trust. If only he could learn to let go of some of that anger. I’m not sure what happened to him, and I’d never dare to ask, but I do know that you need to release that sort of pent up tension or it’ll fuck with your head.

The next day, I see my chance. Tommy was off hunting, leaving Joel and me at our little camp. Before he left, Tommy and I had been cooking breakfast, as was our usual. But he forgot to put on my binds when he left, something Joel happened to overlook. He turns to put a tool away, broad shoulders pulling at the fabric of his shirt, and I take a deep breath. I have to give it my all. 

I quietly stand up, seeing that he hadn’t turned back to me or noticed I’d stood up. So I bolt, running full out throught the woods, not caring to look back as I hear him swear, heavy boots pounding after me. Bramble and small branches scratch at my face and catch on my clothes, slowing me slightly, but I dodge in and out of them as best I can, turning to make a curve once I’d gotten a little bit away from camp. My chest is on fire. I’m not used to running like this. Not anymore, anyway. Now, where is he?

Large fingers grab at my arm and I go down, twisting mid air and landing on my back, air whooshing out of my lungs. Before I can take a proper breath he’s on me, his entire body weight pressing against mine as he grabs my wrists, pinning them on either side of my head, pressing them into the dirt as he straddles me.

“Think you could outrun me?”

“Fuck you.” I spit in his face. Joel’s eyes are fire for a moment before his lips are on mine, pushing my wrists further into the dirt. I try to buck my hips up into his, but the movement is small and accomplishes nothing except applying pressure where I need it. 

His kiss is rough, patchy beard scraping at my skin as he pushes his tongue in my willing mouth. His grip loosens at my wrists and I quickly slide them down and out from under him. He breaks the kiss to stare down at me, both of our chests heaving for a moment. 

The final restraint in Joel pops the second my hand reaches for his belt buckle. He fumbles at the button on my pants, frustrated it wasn’t moving fast enough. I was not faring much better at his, both of our hands almost blocking the other. I finally push his hands away from me, reaching down to undo my own pants instead. Joel takes my lead and does the same, belt buckle dangling as he moves off my body. In one fast movement he flips me, pulling my hips up and shoving his hand between my shoulder blades, pushing me down into the dirt. I hear him shoving his pants down so I do the same before moving my arms back out in front of me, trying to avoid literally eating dirt. 

I hear Joel spit in his hand and a second later, he touches me, making tight circles around my entrance. I moan, unable to stop myself under his touch and the grip he has on my hip tightens. He presses the tip of himself against me and in one fast thrust, bottoms out inside of me. I cry out, pain and pleasure mixing together as he sets a rough pace, fucking me into the ground, his hips slamming against my ass. Fuck he feels good. Larger than anything I’ve had, the edges of me burning slightly from the lack of preparation and his size. That warmth I’ve been steadily carrying between my thighs since I first met them blazes, roaring to life as Joel angles his thrusts to hit at that spot inside me, wanting me to come as well. It’s his touch that does me in though, rough, callused fingers rubbing surprisingly soft circles into my clit, working me through it as I cry out into the dirt. He’s not far behind, a few more thrusts of his hips and he moans, a series of delicious little high pitched whines as his hips lose their momentum, a final sigh when he’s done. 

We stay attached for several moments, breathing before he pulls out, hissing when he does. I pull up my pants and roll onto my back, chest heaving from the most intense orgasm I’ve had in years. I feel his fingers on my pants, straightening them out and zipping them up, closing the button. He does up his own pants, tucking himself inside. It’s silent for several moments, Joel seemingly at a loss for words. He stands, turning to me and extending his hand to help me up. I take it, standing up and brushing the dirt off myself. 

“I’m sorry.”

I look up into his deep brown eyes and I see that he’s genuine, a little worry in his gaze, like he stepped over a line he had made for himself. 

“It’s ok-”

He shakes his head. “You can just go. We won’t follow you.”

“No, really. It’s o-”

His eyes are large, pleading, self doubt flowing into them. “No. It isn’t. I don’t do this… I mean I’ve never forced-”

I gently place my hands on his cheeks. “You didn’t force me.”

His brow furrows together. “But I..I did. You were on the ground, I pinned you down and I just…I lost myself. I’ve never done that. I’m not the kind of man who-”

“And you still aren’t, Joel.”

“But I pushed your face in the dirt while I-”

“Do you not remember it was me who reached for your pants first?”

His mouth paused mid word, he’s silent, his brain replaying the events that had just happened. Tension fell from his face and I could tell he was remembering. 

“You spit at me and I kissed you and you reached for my belt…”

I nod, smiling at him, his face still cradled in my hands. “I did. If anything, I should apologize to you-”

“Don’t. You. Dare.” His eyes are dark again, finding himself, all trace of the previous worry melting away. 

I drop my hands from his face. “Like I said Joel, I’m here to help in any way that I can.” 

He blushes ever so slightly. “I never…we would never ask that of you.”

“I know. You aren’t those kind of men. But I bet you feel a little better now?”

He studies me for a moment. “Yes. But that’s not-”

“Good. Problem solved.” I turn, walking back towards the camp, limping slightly. Joel hesitates a moment before following me. 

“Hey, wait.” He quickens his pace to catch up to me. “I thought you were running away from us?”

I smirk, giving him a wink. “A deal’s a deal, Joel. I told you I’d take care of you both and I did. I am. So now, I’m continuing the deal by heading back to camp.”

“So…you wanted me to chase you?”

“I figured the only way to get you to loosen up a bit was to get your adrenaline going.”

“I could’ve shot you.”

I shrug. “Yeah. You could’ve. Except, you didn’t. It didn’t even cross your mind, did it?”

He’s silent as we enter our camp area, Tommy already dressing a deer he’d managed to kill. He nods a hello at us, turning back to the deer. I stop, turning to Joel as he walks up beside me. I put my wrists together and hold them up, silently waiting for him to bind me. 

To my surprise, he doesn’t. He looks down at my wrists, red from the constant rubbing, and walks to his pack, pulling out a small container of salve and handing it to me. 

“Put that on before you bleed.”

“Thanks.”

After applying the salve, I hand it back to Joel, who had begun sharpening his knives. He nods to me, taking the tiny jar and resumes his task, eyes on the blade so he doesn’t cut himself. I walk over to Tommy, smiling at him when I reach him. 

“Hey. Need help?”

He doesn’t look at me, which is not like him. “Nope.”

“You sure? I could start drying the ski-”

“I said I’m good.”

I watch him for a moment longer, noticing the anger in his movements as he skins the deer. 

“OK, well…let me know if you need me.”

“I won’t.”

Not sure what’s pissed him off, I sit back down by the fire, taking stock of the food supplies. 

“We’re in need of a food run,” I say to Joel, who grunts his acknowledgement. 

“I’ll go out tomorrow.”

I settle back, pulling out an old flannel from my bag and my patch kit, sewing up any holes that I find. 

Tommy finishes the deer by evening and I move to help him, stretching quickly before walking over. But when I reach for the deer meat, he pulls it away from me.

“I got it.”

“I- I’m not saying you don’t. But I wanna hel-”

“Go see if Joel wants you.”

He stomps off to go prepare the meat, some for cooking and some for making jerky out of, leaving me standing there, my mouth agape. Suddenly, it hits me.

He saw us. 

And he’s….jealous? Of what? It’s not like Joel and I are an item. I ask Joel if I can go forage and he nods, handing me my knife back that he’d taken from me when we met, newly sharpened. 

Tommy is short with us the rest of the night, refusing to even look at me. Finally, I give up trying, stomping off to try and get some sleep. 

I wake a bit later to hear them talking. 

"We don't do that, Joel. We promised each other that was the line we wouldn't cross."

"Do what? She started it-"

"Yeah by 'running away'. That's funny because she's still fuckin' here, Joel."

"I thought she was runnin'. What's it to you anyway?"

"I come back with a deer expecting help but instead I see you fuckin' the cargo-"

"She's not cargo anymore. We made a deal."

"Fine. You were fuckin' the help then? It don't matter, Joel. We said we wouldn't get involved with anyone we caught-"

Joel's chuckle cuts off the last part of Tommy's sentence. "Involved? What are we, 12?"

"Can't get more serious than fuckin'."

"Look, I apologized to her and offered to let her go but she came back."

Tommy scoffs. "Yeah ok."

"It's the truth. Tommy, you know I'm not like that. She offered to help and -"

"Just shut up, Joel."

"Why does this… oh shit. You like her?"

Tommy doesn't reply. "Tommy, you know you can't get attached out here."

"Yeah I know. She just…she's nice and-"

"Look. We made a deal. And it's up to her to decide how to hold it."

—----

The next morning, Joel leaves early to forage for food, not straying more than a couple miles from our campsite. 

Tommy still isn't talking to me, which makes the morning creep along. Normally, we'd be chatting up a storm, joking and laughing, which is something I hadn't done in years. 

By lunch I couldn't take it anymore. 

He's sitting on his sleeping bag, setting aside the plate of food he'd been eating. His knees are bent up, arms leaning on them as he stares at the fire. I walk over, hesitating for a moment before I sit next to him, fully expecting him to tell me off or move. 

He does neither.

I tentatively reach out, gently placing my hand on his opposite cheek. He makes no move to stop me, and I stroke my thumb across his cheek before applying light pressure to turn his head to look at me. His eyes drag up my face and finally settle on mine, a mixture of emotions raging behind them. 

I brush my thumb across his bottom lip before leaning in, gently pressing my lips to his. He doesn't respond so I pull back, looking down at the ground.

"I'm sorry, Tommy. I must have misread-"

His large hand wraps around the back of my head and gently pulls me to him, his lips on mine, tongue gently prodding to be let in. The second I part my lips he slides his tongue inside, a slight moan at the back of his throat. My fingers twist in his jacket, my other hand trying to grip his broad shoulder as I toss my leg over his lap, straddling him. I can feel him hard underneath me, begging for release. 

Tommy wraps his arm around me and lays me down on my back, my legs coming up to wrap around him, our lips never having left the others. His hips grind into me and I moan, the pressure of him exactly where I need it. Suddenly, he pulls back, his dark, lust blown eyes looking into mine.

“Is this ok?” 

I nod. “Yes. Whatever you want, Tommy. I’m yours.”

He smiles and it reaches his eyes before he kisses me again. I feel his hand fumble at my pants for a moment before sliding down under my panties. He slides his finger down the middle of me, hips lips now kissing a path to a spot on my neck where he starts to suck. His finger slowly moves to circle my clit, sliding back down to circle my entrance.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

Unable to form words, I merely whimper as he pushes a finger inside me, curling it to find that spot inside of me. When he does, my hips twitch and I can feel him smile on my neck. He pulls out, pushing in another finger to tap at that spot, the fire that had been growing steadily between my thighs now roaring to life. It’s when he adds his thumb, applying slight pressure to my clit that I come undone, whimpering as I grip his arm, unable to do anything but moan. When I come down, he pulls his hand from me, watching my face with a slight smile. His eyes land on mine and I nod slightly, a barely audible “please” under my breath as I palm him over his jeans. He grunts, grinding into my hand a couple of times before he pushes himself to his knees, his hands reaching for his belt. 

“Take off your pants and get in the sleeping bag.” It’s not a command, I’m fully able to turn him down, but there’s no way in hell that’s happening. 

I scramble to do as he says, hearing a slight chuckle from Tommy as I shimmy down into the sleeping bag. He follows, slotting himself between my thighs as he zips the bag back up. 

He kisses me again, swallowing my moans as he runs his dick through my increasingly wet folds. He pulls back, eyes on my face as he slowly pushes inside of me. I know my mouth is hanging open as he pulls back out, small thrusting movements to allow me time to adjust to him, which just drives me more mad. Finally, he bottoms out, adding an extra thrust when he does and I cry out, nails digging into his arms. He does this several more times, watching my face contort in pleasure as he fucks me slow and deep, taking his time splitting me open. I know I’m close and he can tell to, leaning down to my ear to speak into it.

“Say my name.”

A second later my orgasm arrives and I cry out his name, other expletives and random words falling from my lips as well, his hips still thrusting into me, extending my release. Once I start to come down, he thrusts harder somehow a few more times before his head hits my chest, grunting and whining as he spurts into me. My hands come up to his head, gently tugging at his curls and he whimpers, his hips sputtering one last time before laying still. We stay like that for a while, still joined, his head on my chest and my fingers tangled in his hair.

“You know you didn’t have to let me,” Tommy speaks into my chest.

“I know.”

“You could’ve told me to fuck off.”

“I don’t want to.”

“It’s ok if you only want to fuck Joel.”

“I-what?”

He still hasn’t looked at me. “I saw you guys the other day. At first I thought he’d crossed a line, but-”

“No, he didn’t. It was me.”

Tommy nods before pushing himself up, sliding out from between my legs. He tucks himself in his pants before handing me a rag to clean up with. Once dressed, we go back to sitting near the fire, chatting and joking like we had been a few days before. 

Joel comes back a few hours later, dropping down a couple cans of Chef Boyardee before glancing between Tommy and I with a knowing look. I thank him and start to make a meal for the three of us, passing out freshly cooked venison and a side of Beefaroni. We eat for a few minutes in silence, the sounds of the forest and the crackling fire all that we could hear. 

“So,” Joel clears his throat. “What, uh, what now?”

Tommy and I look at him. “What do you mean?” I ask.

Joel glances at Tommy and back to me. “I think…I think we need to set some clear lines so no one gets hurt.”

I glance at Tommy, surprised to see him blushing slightly, like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. But then they both look at me expectantly. I swallow the large bite I had eaten, taking a sip of water before speaking.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Becasue you’re the one who started…this.” Joel gestures between us all. 

“Well,” I say, wiping my hands on my pants. “I made you guys a deal to take care of you in any way that I can, in exchange for not selling me to the raiders. This was a trial period so…”

“We’re not sellin’ you to anyone,” Tommy assures me, glancing at Joel who nods his agreement. 

“I’ve already released you from your deal, sweetheart. You just insisted on coming back. Tommy agrees with me.”

Tommy nods. “It’s up to you, darlin’.”

I think for a few moments. “To be honest, I was just surviving before I met you. I hadn’t spoken to anyone outside of trade deals in years, wandering around on my own. I got really good at a lot of things, survival things. But what I never counted on needing was, well, other people. Even when I was tied to the tree, I hadn’t been that happy in years. And it’s because of you guys.” Joel and Tommy glanced at each other before looking at the ground and back at me. Joel opens his mouth, most likely to apologize, but I put my hand up to silence him.

“So, if it’s ok with you both, I’d…I’d like to stay. I know you’ve done shit you aren’t proud of. We all have. But isn’t it time to do something different? Maybe find some secluded cabin somewhere and just live? I’d love to be a part of that.”

“That sounds great, sweetheart, really. But it’s hard to comeby supplies for that-”

“I think it’s doable,” Tommy interjects. “I know of some places more west that were already operational without electricity, not well known to the public. Did some construction projects there. One of those living history places? We could head that way.”

Joel pauses to think. “That sounds good to me.”

I smile. “If you’ll have me, I’m in.”

Tommy’s smile is widest yet. “It’s settled then. You’ll be comin’ with us.”

I nod. “Just one thing I think we need to clear up.”

Both of their eyes are on me and I feel like I could drown happily in their gaze. 

“No jealousy. If either of you need me, I am ready and willing-”

“The same goes for you, darlin’.” Joel nods his agreement. “Women have needs too and we’re more than happy to help.”

—----

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