#consider it a punch pulled/surprise for later

[mufos-photo-album]

Does Mufotsuki have any family members? Piripu has/had his guardians, does mufo have any?

Glad you asked, because she does!

Mufotsuki has many connections with the spirits of the Vault, however her main/strongest connections are between her Mom, Dad, and Big Sister (all adoptive).

Below are depictions of Mom and Dad from around June - August 20th. Dad is a soldier-type, so he's often out of the Vault patrolling the Wasteland (in fact, that's how they found Mufo). He's pretty stoic but a good sport regarding younger Mufo's shenanigans.

Mom is one of many mages tasked with maintaining the Vault. She's a higher ranking mage, landing herself somewhere on the middle of the totem pole. Like her husband, her work keeps her busy, though being in the Vault granted her more time to look after Mufo while on the job.

Mom and Dad met and were a close couple before they died and became spirits. Both are in their 40s - 50s.

(If you're wondering why you've never seen these pieces until now, they're from a video project I haven't shared yet. The project is regrettably still unfinished).

Big Sister, who I haven't drawn yet, is akin to a third parent. She and Mufo aren't actually related. Instead, she's just a good friend of Mom who took a special liking to Mufo and became her honorary sister. The reason why Big Sis isn't "Aunt" is because she too is a mage, though she works under Mom. Mom bosses around Big Sis and Mufo as if they are both her children. Big Sis was young Mufo's biggest enabler. She is in her mid to late 20s.

As mentioned before, Mufo also has some other family connections. The one I feel like talking about the most is her connection to the children of the Vault. When Mufo was younger (like, freshly born from the sky) she had a sibling relationship with kids in the Vault that were her age. Mufo grew out of these relationships though, as Mufo physically + mentally aged while the spirit kids didn't. She used to be called "little sister" but these days she is "big little sister", in reference to how she is taller than the spirit kids she grew up with but is technically younger than all of them (like in the physical sense, not developmentally).

I also wanna clarify something for Mufotsuki and Piripu since "has/had" was used. All of their family/guardians are dead (as in they are spirits). Dad was a spirit when he found Mufo, and Kucevoz and Odiwa were spirits when they found Piripu. That being said, I imagine Piripu's relationship with his guardians is more estranged, so maybe the use of "has/had" is more appropriate for him.

[submattsmxmmy]

ghostface!matt x slutty!reader x ghostface!chris

👻🎀 content warning: smut, degradation, predator/prey dynamic, restraints, knife play, blood play

👻🎀 summary: you're throwing a halloween party at your house in a remote area. the night becomes like a thrilling, real-life horror movie after your friends, matt and chris both show up dressed as the infamous ghostface

Dead dove: do not eat 💖 Hiii, it's @ariestrxsh and this is my secondary account. Here is my contribution to kinktober. I know the Ghostface trope has been done so many times, but I figured it would still be a fun little smut to write in honor of Halloween.

idk if this would be considered a dead dove: do not eat fic, but it certainly contains some rather dark material, so i'd rather label it that way to be safe. also, my reader's slutty nun outfit may offend you if you're religious, so please scroll and don't read if it's going to upset you.

masquerade

"What are you guys going as tonight?" You asked Nick, Matt, and Chris as the four of you aimlessly wandered around the Halloween store that was littered with all the decor you could dream of for the party you were throwing later. You'd done most of your holiday shopping a few weeks prior, but you just needed a few final touches to complete the vibe you were going for.

"I'm going as Stu Macher," Nick responded, fiddling with some tacky Halloween decoration. "I'm going as Ghostface," Chris confidently replied, and your gaze softened as you pictured him in one of those sexy masks.

"Hey, what the fuck, Chris? I'm going as Ghostface," Matt slugged Chris in the arm. Your breath caught in your throat, and your lips fell open as you pictured them both in the Ghostface costume. "Relax. That'll make it more fun. Then no one will know who's who," Chris smirked. "People already have a hard time telling us apart," Matt rolled his eyes.

"What are you going as?" Nick asked you, ignoring his brothers. "Well, I'm going to be the only one out of the four of us who isn't going as a Scream character. But it's going to be a surprise," you told them, wandering over towards a giant cauldron that caught your eye.

"What are you going to use that for?" Matt asked. "Punch bowl! Isn't it perfect?" You asked, picking it up and cradling it in your arms as the four of you continued through the store. "Can you at least give us a hint about what you're going to dress up as?" Chris playfully poked you in the side.

"All I can tell you is, it's gonna be sexy, and you're gonna thank God when you see me in it. I'm trying to get laid tonight," you proudly stated as the four of you headed over to the checkout counter to pay.

Nick, Matt, and Chris dropped you back off at your place, which was out in the middle of nowhere, so you could finish setting up, and so they could change into their costumes. You thought it was fitting you lived in a secluded part of your town's national forest and didn't have any neighbors for miles.

You'd just finished putting out the last of the decorum when people started trickling in. You had fake spiderwebs strewn in every corner, a smoke machine, and a black light.

You were just thinking about how excited you were for the boys to see you in your glowing slutty nun outfit when the doorbell rang, and as you pulled open your creaky front door, you saw Nick covered in fake blood accompanied by a pair of Ghostfaces, the whites of their masks lit up by the black light. "Look at you!" Nick gasped as you gave them a twirl. Chris and Matt's eyes were immediately drawn to your exposed chest and your bare thighs.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface, don't kill me!" You jokingly shrieked, placing your hands on your cheeks and making a fake surprised face. "You look really good," one of them said to you. "So do you guys," you seductively replied, nibbling on your lower lip and looking at the three of them, but especially Matt and Chris. You had a bit of a thing for masked men.

They shuffled into your house, admiring the way you had decorated. More guests started arriving, and the party started to really take off. Nick started hitting it off with a guy you worked with who was dressed as a skeleton, which left you, Matt, and Chris alone.

"You guys wanna scare Nick tonight?" Matt asked menacingly, tilting his head in his ghostface mask, which had no business being as hot as it was. You bit your lip at him.

Chris could tell you were entranced by the costume. "Like the mask, sweetheart?" Chris asked in a deep, menacingly voice that was strikingly familiar to that of the original Ghostface, taking his 'prop' weapon and running the edge along your cheek, but the metal was sharp and cold. "Shut the fuck up. Oh my god, is that a real knife?" You asked him, staring wide-eyed at it.

"Yeah, why does that scare you? Or do you like it?" Chris said in a spooky voice. You narrowed your eyes at him. "Neither. You guys are so immature. Have fun scaring Nick. I'm gonna go enjoy my party and try to find someone to hook up with. Try not to cut anyone with that thing."

You rolled your eyes at them and pushed past them, trying to hide the effect they were having on you. Both sets of eyes traveled to your ass as you walked away. "Why don't we play a prank on her instead?" Matt inquired. "Yeah, she could use a little loosening up," Chris responded.

You couldn't deny that the way Chris had put that blade up to your cheek while he was dressed like that was having a rather strong effect on you, an effect so strong that you desperately wanted to turn back around, grab them by their solid black robes, and beg them both to rail you while they wore their Ghostface attire.

You'd always found them both attractive, but they were your good friends, and most nights that the sexual thoughts about them creeped into your psyche, you were able to will it away, or something you'd never admit out loud to - sometimes you'd just take care of the aching between your legs really quickly, and the thoughts would usually dissipate on their own, but tonight was different.

You could feel a damp warmth between your thighs as you sauntered off in another direction to greet some of your other friends, but even as you asked them how the party was and tried to get your mind off of the Sturniolo boys, you found yourself peeking over your shoulder, stealing glances at them, and losing your inner battle with yourself to fight off your urges.

It had been so long, and you were so horny.

"I think that guy over there is checking you out," your friend who had animals ears on nudged you and glanced off in the direction of the punch bowl you'd bought earlier. Your eye caught a tall man with zombie makeup on that you didn't recognize grabbing himself a cup of spiked punch, his gaze flicking up at you every few seconds. You thought he was kind of cute.

"Go talk to him," your friend urged you, lovingly squeezing your arm. You took one more glance in the direction of where Matt and Chris had been standing just moments ago, seriously considering trying to pursue one of them instead, but when your eyes scanned over the crowd, you didn't see either one of them. You'd missed your chance.

"Okay, fine," you whispered to your friend, rolling your eyes and working up the courage to approach him. You took a deep breath and headed in his direction.

"Hey, do I know you?" You asked, grabbing yourself a red solo cup and serving yourself some alcoholic punch. "You know, some would say your costume is offensive," he said, ignoring your question and motioning towards your exposed breasts in your very ungodly outfit.

"Then why don't you rip it off of me?" You flirtatiously shot back. He looked unamused with you.

"Hey, so, what's the deal with your friend?" He asked, taking a sip of his drink and his gaze looking past you to where you were previously standing. "Oh, my friend," you said in a slightly disappointed tone, realizing you'd just approached and been very forward with a man who had been interested in the girl standing next to you the whole time.

You started back off in the direction you came from, and your friend glanced over at the embarrassment in your expression. "What happened? Was he a dick to you?" She asked, concern in her eyes while she cradled your face. You could understand why he was looking at her instead of you.

"No, nothing like that. If you think he's cute, you should go talk to him. I'll be right back," you responded, feeling your face get hot. You pushed past a crowd of people to get to the bottom of your staircase, and you hurried up the steps before your tears could fall.

It wasn't so much that you were upset about not getting the guy. You weren't even that interested in him. It was a combination of a few things, really.

It was the humiliation of misreading the situation, the insecurity you felt about not being as pretty as your friends, and the constant self-doubt you had about whether you really were a slut like everyone called you and if any guy would ever want you again because of it.

Through your teary vision, your bedroom door caught your eye. You stopped dead in your tracks, sniffling and wiping away your tears as alarm bells went off in your nervous system.

Your bedroom door was wide open, and you swore you'd shut it before the first few guests had arrived. You walked through the door frame cautiously, overwhelmed by a sensation of having eyes on you, studying your surroundings to see if anything else was out of place.

You shrugged off the feeling of being watched, chalking it up to the fact that it was Halloween, and you had been watching a lot of thriller and horror movies in the couple weeks leading up to your party.

You made your way over to the bathroom sink, setting down your red solo cup on the cold countertop and peering at your reflection in the mirror. You didn't want to spend Halloween night sulking in your bathroom while your two hot best friends were downstairs, strutting around in their sexy Ghostface attire and probably finding other girls to sleep with.

You cleaned off the eyeliner that was smudging on your bottom eyelid, glued the corner of your eyelash back down, and readjusted your breasts in your costume.

After fixing the imperfections with your wardrobe, you decided you weren't going to let the night end without taking a stab at trying to have sex with whichever one of the Sturniolo brothers you saw first, excluding Nick of course. You were done pretending like you weren't completely taken with them.

Your gaze flickered over to the reflection of your partially open closet door in the mirror. Again, you could have sworn you'd left it closed. Filled with dread, you slowly tiptoed out of the bathroom, past your bed, and over to your closet. You rested your hand on the round, metal door knob and slowly pushed it shut.

You realized how ridiculous you were being, rolling your eyes at yourself and letting out a sigh at how jumpy you'd been lately. You turned back around and started to head out of your bedroom when all of a sudden, you heard the sound of the closet door creaking open again.

Before you could spin yourself around and identify the threat, you felt a gloved hand cover your mouth and a cold, sharp blade resting against your neck. "What's your favorite scary movie?" The way his voice came through sounding just like Ghostface had you both scared and turned on.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you let out an audible moan against his palm, causing him to pull his hand back. "What was that?" Chris accusingly asked, speaking like himself again. "What the fuck? How do you make your voice sound like that?" You asked in a shaky voice.

He chuckled in your ear, avoiding your inquiry. "Answer me first. What was that sound you just made?" Chris posed the question again. "Nothing. Real funny, Chris. Let me go," you responded.

Another figure appeared in the corner of your eye as Matt walked around in his Ghostface costume, shutting your bedroom door closed. Your heart dropped as you watched him lock it and make his way back over to you. "Let you go? Are you sure you want that?" Matt cooed, running the back of his gloved hand along your cheek and tilting his head down at you. You gulped.

"Is this turning you on?" Chris whispered into your ear. "Gross," you rolled your eyes. "Only one way to find out," Matt menacingly replied. "Why don't you check her, Matt?" Chris smirked under his mask.

Your mouth fell open, and a strangled whimper came through as Matt reached between your legs, lifting up your skirt and slipping his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Immediately, he felt the wetness leak through his glove.

"Oh, she's soaked. Her clit practically has its own heartbeat," Matt relayed to his brother, drawing circles on it with his fingers and talking about you as if you weren't in the room with them. "I bet she'd like it if we took care of that. Don't you think?" Chris wondered, dragging the blade across your collar bone and between your partially exposed breasts.

You couldn't hold back your delighted sounds as they both put their hands on you. It was like a dream come true. Your prayers had been answered. You'd fantasized about them each separately, but the idea of having them both take you on at the same time didn't even seem like an option until now.

"What's turning you on so much? The mask? The knife? The fact that it's me and Matt?" Chris cooed at you, pulling your top down to reveal your tits. He took the knife and started running the sharp edge against your nipples that stiffened at the touch. You immediately shuddered and let out a whimper.

"All of it?" Matt wondered, continuing to play with your pussy that was becoming wetter by the second. "Answer him, slut. What's got you all wet, hmm?" Chris growled into your ear. Of course, it hurt your feelings to be called that, but there was something about the way Chris said it so endearingly that it didn't seem like he was trying to do anything other than turn you on, and it was working.

"Nothing, it's completely unrelated," you lied, biting your lip to hold back another moan, but your attempts failed, and your head fell back against Chris' chest. You felt his hard cock against your backside, and it twitched at the way you struggled to keep yourself composed. "Yeah, mine's unrelated, too," Chris replied sarcastically, staring down at your tits as he continued to tease them with his knife.

You felt Matt's fingers slip into your hole as he started to fuck you with them. "You want us to stop?" Matt asked. You nibbled on your lip and softly shook your head no. "That's what I thought. She's such a little slut," Chris said to his brother. "Don't you know it's always the slut who dies first?" Chris rasped into your ear.

"Oh, she likes that," Matt cooed, feeling your pussy start to throb around his fingers. You tried to hide your reactions, but your body language couldn't keep your secret from the two pairs of Ghostfaces who manhandled you.

"You still never told us your favorite scary movie," Chris pointed out. "Blair Witch Project," you hesitantly answered. "Mmm. That's a scary one. Especially when you live out here," Matt replied. Chris leaned over to Matt and whispered something in his ear that you couldn't quite make out.

"Lay on the fucking bed, slut," Chris responded as they both let you go. "We're gonna go have a little chat in the other room, and you're gonna lay right here and behave," Matt ordered you. "And if you try to run, you're gonna be really sorry," Chris said, waving the knife in your direction.

They both disappeared behind your bathroom door. You heard the sound of Chris and Matt arguing behind the wooden barrier about who was going to have their way with you first, but you had another idea.

When they both emerged from the bathroom, you were gone, and on your nightstand was a note that read: "come find me in the woods, mr. ghostface. xoxo, your prey" with a heart drawn below the lettering.

"Oh, that sneaky bitch thinks she can be in charge of her own fate. We're gonna have fun with her tonight," Chris told Matt as he picked up the note.

They both disappeared out of the room, down the stairs, and out the backdoor towards the dense treeline behind your house with a flashlight Matt had snagged off your kitchen counter.

All they had to do was listen quietly for a few minutes beneath the blanket of stars and clouds, and then they heard you, crushing twigs and leaves under your weight as you tried to stealthily make your way through the forest.

All of a sudden, you were lit up by the flashlight Matt held in hands. "Gotcha," he said in a menacing voice. You froze and stared at them both, unable to move a muscle. "Think you're so slick, huh?" Chris asked in a low, sexy rasp.

"You know what would make this so much more fun? If she had to guess who's who while we take turns fucking her," Matt suggested, taking a few steps towards you. "And if she guesses wrong, we'll make her bleed," Chris laughed, closing in on you as well.

You'd never seen this side of the two brothers, but it excited you more than you were willing to admit.

You started slowly walking backward until you backed into a tree, and you swallowed hard as you felt its rough trunk under your palms, realizing you didn't have anywhere to go.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface. Spare me!" You whined, but you couldn't hold back your smirk as Matt pulled the knife out of his robe and cut your costume from your body. You gasped as the fabric fell the floor in front of your feet. You'd never imagined your night would go like this. In fact, this was hotter than anything you could have ever dreamt up.

"We told you that you'd regret running." It was that same ominous, threatening, and sexy voice that Chris had used earlier in the night, so that must have been him. "I thought we told you to behave," said the other, sounding just like the first one. Fuck, you thought.

You watched as the boy with the knife started to cut a hole in his robe, and your eyes widened, and your jaw fell open as you realized what he was doing. You watched as his dick poked through the black fabric, staring you down. He handed off the knife to his brother.

"Since you like to run, one of us is going to have to hold you still," the second one said pinning your wrists above your head with one hand with the other, he held the blade up in front of your face. You saw yourself in the reflection of the sharp metal accompanied by the man in the Ghostface mask beside you, and it sent goosebumps across your flesh.

He closed the distance between the weapon and your breasts, and he started tracing your nipples again with the knife's edge. Your chest rose and fell as your breath quickened. You peered at the boy who was settling between your legs, grabbing ahold of his big, veiny cock with his gloved hand as he started pumping it back and forth a few times, making sure it had reached its full potential.

He hiked up your leg, wrapped your thigh around his waist, and pulled your panties to the side before sinking it into your heat and stretching you out. "So tight," he groaned deeply, feeling the way you gripped his dick. You let out a few loud moans as you adjusted to his size, taking every inch of him.

"That's it. Take it like the slut you are," he gruffed, picking up the pace and wrapping his gloved fingers around your neck. "Like that?" The boy who was holding your wrists cooed as he dragged the sharp object across to your other peak.

You loved the way both Ghostface masks reflected your fear back at you as well as your pleasure, their empty eyes, and their contorted mouths, taunting you. You glanced back at the brother who was between your legs, focusing on his thrusts. His fast and powerful thrusts.

Every time he bottomed out in you, a desperate mewl escaped your lips, filling the atmosphere. The masked man started to mimick the sounds that poured from your mouth while his brother fucked you, and you adored every second of it.

You loved the way they were feeding your sick fantasies, holding you at knife point, wearing their sexy costumes, and fucking you dumb while they degraded you. Your sounds became louder, more urgent, and less inhibited. You could feel the intensity building.

"Scream for me, bitch," the man between your legs chuckled. His mean words, his hand around your throat, the movement of his hips, and the cold, sharp metal dancing across your skin were enough to cause you to snap.

You hit the point of no return, clenching around the mystery man's rod, sending him to the same fate shortly after. You could feel his twitching cock filling you up as your orgasm took its course, the two of you moaning in unison while you finished together. Your legs grew weak as you came.

"Oh my god, Chris. Matt. Whoever you are," you breathlessly panted. You thought for sure you'd be able to tell them apart by now, but you had no idea, and you found it all the more enticing.

"Such a good girl for me," he cooed, slowing down his thrusts, pulling out, and watching his seed flow out of you. He stared down in awe at the mess he made, taking in the sight and savoring it while his breathing pattern returned to normal.

"I've been waiting for this," the boy to your left said as he switched places with his brother. He took the knife, hooking it into your panties and slicing the delicate material, watching the fabric fall to the ground and revealing your pretty pussy to him.

Then he cut a hole in his robe like his brother had done, and you peered down at his gorgeous cock poking through the tear in the material.

He roughly pried open your legs, guiding them open with the blade. He dug into the inside of your right thigh with his gloved hand and rested the knife on your lower stomach. You couldn't keep yourself from admiring his big, throbbing dick, and you sharply inhaled as you felt him slip his tip into your entrance.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned as he bucked his hips forward, his entire length vanisihing into your tight hole. Your eyes flicked back up to his Ghostface attire, taking in the incredible view of being fucked by a man in such a sexy mask.

The man beside you restrained your wrists, pinning them above your head again. "Alright. Time to guess. Who am I?" The boy beside you asked in his creepy Ghostface voice, tilting his head at you as he tightened his grip. You innocently peered up at his mask, searching for some kind of hint in his demeanor.

"Chris, is that you?" You asked uncertaintly. "Wrong. Remember what happens when you guess wrong?" Matt cooed, running his gloved finger along the underside of your chin. Your eyes were glazing over, your lips fell open, and your cheeks were flushed.

Chris applied more pressure to the knife, running the blade along your lower stomach and drawing blood. You let out a satisfied whine as you felt the release of the knife cutting you. The warm, sticky red fluid glistened in the moonlight as it slowly dripped down your abdomen.

"So pretty," Matt whispered, brushing your messy hair out of your face and his eyes dancing between your desperate expression and the way the blood looked so beautiful on your skin. Moans began pouring from you again as Chris fucked you senseless up against the tree.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface. Harder," you begged, your eyes lazily rolling back into your head as your breasts bounced to the cadence of his thrusts. "Cock dumb little slut," Chris menacingly chuckled at your pathetic pleading, but he still gave you what you so enthusiastically craved, relishing in your desperation for him.

You loved feeling helpless and giving yourself over so willingly to both brothers as they used you for their own pleasure. Your whimpers became louder and fuller as you neared your tipping point again.

"Harder," you cried out again before your orgasm took over. Your gaze danced between both of their masks, and your pussy started rhythmically throbbing around Chris' cock as he delivered a few more monumental strokes. You felt a wonderful, relieved feeling in the pit of your stomach as you came unraveled under the control of both boys.

Your brows pinched together, your knees weakened, and your stare began to lose its focus until you couldn't concentrate on anything except for the pure pleasure and ecstasy coursing through you. You were pumped full of Chris' cum as his cock twitched inside of you, and as you came down from your intense adrenaline rush, you felt all your muscles relax.

Both men chuckled, removing their masks and revealing their identities to you. Sure enough, you had guessed wrong. Chris leaned in and chuckled into your ear.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You may have guessed wrong, but we're going to spare you. You're worth way more to us alive than dead."

[shouyuus]

─── オリヴァ DAY DAY

oliver; 917 words; fluff, ubers!oliver, ldr, fem!reader, nickname usage (doll, sweetheart), truly teeth-rotting fluff, lapslock, no "y/n"

summary: just wanna dance, dance like my birth-day-day

a/n: happy oliver day!!! some uberly sweet oliver for u on this special oliver day lol

─── オリヴァ HE WAKES UP to an empty room, all gathering-lace darkness and stagnant air. his phone beeps, casting a spray of blue-white light up at the ceiling. it buzzes -- once, twice -- oliver reaches over to pick it up, squinting at the photo-bright screen.

you.

he answers before he can consider the choice (there's no choice, not when it comes to you).

"'ello?"

"happy birthday."

he chuckles, the sound smoke-ridden and jazz-smooth. he flops back onto his pillows and stares at the ceiling of his small italian flat, the window cracked to let in the nonexistent summer breeze. outside, the world is graveyard quiet, the witching-hour dark pulled over the world like a thick layer of velvet.

"thanks," he says, stifling a yawn. he tries to do the mental math -- it'd be... 7am for you in japan.

you hesitate; he can almost taste the static in the air.

"are you... doing anything special today?" you ask. there's a rush in your breath that sounds like excitement, and like an answering tide to the moon's pull of your voice, he finds himself giddy as well. still, he tries to play it off, tries for nonchalance as he grunts.

"nothin' big. just a dinner with the team. lorenzo insisted."

your laughter prickles at his skin, goosebumps rising in their wake, and suddenly, oliver is strangely thankful you're not here to witness just the kind of effect you have on him. he clears his throat.

"and what about you, hm? gonna go out and get a cupcake in my honor?" he asks.

your breath hitches, "well actually--"

your voice is cut off by a jarring blare of sound -- a voice that's both muffled and echoing, announcing -- the last boarding call for flight jl6852 from tokyo to helsinki --

oliver jerks up, his breath punched from his lungs as he stares into the darkness of his room.

"are you... at the airport?"

you let out a nervous giggle and his whole body tightens, every muscle pulled taut as he blinks.

"uhm... surprise?" you say, your voice a perfect mix of anxiety and eagerness.

he gapes. a second later, he catches himself and snaps his jaw back shut.

"you -- when do you arrive?" he swings his feet out of bed.

you hum, "oh not for a while -- i tried to get an earlier flight but they were all booked up --"

"for the match, yeah," he finishes, laughing as he drops his head into his hands, his heart thudding against the back of his throat, "the tabloids have been a bit nuts this time 'round."

"mm, i bet," you say, "so... i don't fly for another 2ish hours. but... i wanted to be the first one to wish you happy birthday."

oliver glances at the tiny alarm clock on his bedside table -- it blinks a dulcet 12:13am at him in dark red led numbers.

"thanks, sweetheart," he murmurs, running a hand down his face, trying his damndest to tamp down the goofy, shit-eating grin threatening to overtake his entire expression. he does not succeed.

"so. when do you arrive?" he asks again, and he congratulates himself for sounding almost suave -- whipped cream and whiskey. he slumps back onto his bed, his legs thrown over the sheets. there's a dull thudding in his chest that feels almost like his heart, but he's certain that it's more -- just the knowledge that you'd be here, with him, so soon -- it turns the thing in his chest into something more, something daring and dangerous and altogether much more untamed.

it is a creature, of want and taste and endless gluttony.

he licks his lips and wonders at the flavor of lipbalm that you might've brought. he knows you like the vanilla one for plane rides -- extra nourishing, you'd once told him.

"not till late," you answer, "so... i just might crash your dinner party."

oliver bites back a groan. he considers the consequences of cancelling the entire thing; he doesn't know if he'll be able to control himself around you. and frankly, he doesn't really want to.

"text me the address?" you ask.

he hums, nodding, "sure, yeah. did you pack a good book for the flight?"

you make an affronted noise, "i'm gonna be streaming your game!"

oliver laughs, the sound rocking through him as he tosses an arm over his eyes, the summertime warmth filtering through his cracked-open window, cicada-song filling the air with a cacophonous ring.

"ah... then i guess i'd better play my best, hm?"

you sigh, "when do you not?"

oliver scoffs, "when my girlfriend's not watching."

you laugh, and he can almost see the way the heat would work into the apples of your cheeks, how your lashes might flutter as he teases you.

"then you'd better play extra hard today," you say.

oliver makes a noise of consent, and for a few moments, there's nothing but a butter-sweet silence as the pair of your bask in the inevitability of your reunion, ticking ever and ever closer.

"i've missed you," oliver says, his voice a sea-salt scratch of confession.

"yeah i know. i've missed you too," and your's, dawn-bright echo.

"you need sleep," you say, a moment later. to which oliver groans, but he feels the prickling warmth of tiredness creeping up the back of his neck.

"yeah, yeah..."

you smile; he can almost hear it.

"i'll see you soon."

"yeah, doll," he whispers, cradling the phone to his ear, eeking out every last drop of your star-silvered voice, "i'll see you soon."

[sayyestoheav3nn]

Nights Like This: Part Six

Roman x black!oc

Warnings: angst, mild violence

Word count: 2.6k

a/n: shits only going to get 10x messier from here 😭 if you would like to be tagged, please click here 🤍

“Roman, please don’t!” 

The situation was to the point of no return. Zoe watched in horror as Roman lunged at Daniel, spearing him to the ground. One thing she knew for certain, was that trying to get in between to physically stop them would be a stupid and unwise decision. 

Daniel used his arms to block himself as Roman began to repeatedly throw punches at him. “The fuck is wrong with you!” His attempts to get off the ground worked to no avail, because Roman’s size and weight had him pinned down. 

“You think this shit’s a game, I warned you to stay the fuck away from her!” Roman’s current demeanor was something Zoe had never seen before, it was almost as if he was taking out his pent up anger on Daniel. She could feel the air grow thick as the sound of his blows echoed through the quiet hallway.

“Man, fuck you!” Daniel elbowed him in the face as hard as he could, quickly scrambling off the ground as Roman briefly fell back.

“Please stop!” She pleaded. Zoe began to hear gasps and murmurs as people slowly began to surround them, it was the absolute last thing she fucking needed.

Tears formed in her eyes as the fight began to escalate, she felt helpless. Zoe looked down the hallway hoping to find any source of help and to her surprise she saw Bianca and Jade making their way towards the commotion. “Please get security!” They nodded and quickly took off in search of assistance. 

Out of nowhere a familiar voice grabbed her attention. “M—My tribal chief this isn’t w-worth it!” Zoe turned to see Paul Heyman, his chunky cheeks were bright red as he watched in disbelief. Solo wasn't far behind him, silently pushing past the nosy crowd of people who just quietly observed. 

He made his way over to Roman, wasting no time in attempting to restrain him. “This ain’t the time or place chief…”

“You better listen to your sidekick pretty boy, ‘cause you damn sure ain’t getting rid of me that easily this time,” Daniel sneered. 

And as if things couldn’t get any fucking worse, Daniel continued to poke at an already pissed off Roman.

“Seems to me like you’re an insecure bitch who’s scared your girlfriend might be getting a little bored of that weak ass tribal dick,” he spat.

What the fuck. Zoe felt her heart drop to her stomach, to say she felt embarrassed and humiliated would be an understatement. At this point she wondered if this man had a fucking death wish. 

Solo paused for a moment, ultimately deciding to move out of Roman’s way. In a matter of seconds Roman lunged at him again. Fortunately for Daniel, a few security members made their way through and began to create a barrier in between the two. 

But Roman was relentless, bulldozing past them making his way closer and closer to Daniel. More security began to flood the room to block his path, only further frustrating Roman.

“That’s enough from the both of you!” Triple H’s stern voice echoed through the hallway. He glanced at the staff who were now restraining both of them back, “Take Daniel to the medic and send some to Roman’s bus.”

He then turned his attention towards Roman, “After that, I need you to go home and cool off. We’ll talk later.” Roman didn’t even bother looking his way, let alone responding.

As Daniel and Roman were pulled away in opposite directions, Zoe had to quickly make a choice on which way to go. There was an immense pressure on her shoulders considering so many sets of eyes were glued to her as they watched her every move.

If she was being completely honest, she preferred not to see or speak to either of them. And while she did feel bad for Daniel, a part of her was rubbed the wrong way and felt disrespected when he brought her up as a low blow. 

But that was nothing compared to the anger and pain Roman has and continues to put her through. Whether people found out or not, was no longer any of her fucking concern. She wanted to hit him where it hurt, for him to feel an ounce of what she felt. 

As Roman was being ushered away he looked back at Zoe one last time, his eyes immediately finding hers.

And she could see it.

The silent and almost gutted expression etched on his face as she turned the corner towards the opposite direction, following Daniel.

Triple H turned towards the crowd who were still at a standstill, “Show’s over, you guys know where you need to be.”

……………….

“Oh my God…” 

After witnessing the fight in person, Zoe already knew Roman’s blows did numbers on Daniel. But in seeing the damage after, she saw just how bad it really was. 

Daniel’s lip was busted, and his right eye was almost completely swollen shut. Since he was now shirtless, she could see the bruises on his body that she could only assume were from Roman’s spear. 

Even though she was well aware the situation wasn't her fault, let alone in her control, Zoe couldn’t help but to feel so fucking guilty. She replayed the situation in her head over and over again, wondering what she could have done differently to prevent this. 

Maybe if she had taken the risk and stepped in front of him, Roman would’ve never lunged at him in the first place. Or maybe, if she hadn’t felt frozen in place for so long, she could have called for help sooner.

“I’m so sorry Daniel…” tears brimmed in her eyes as she quietly took in his state.

“I just… I just want to be left alone right now,” he kept his head down as his gaze stayed focused on the floor.

“I—I understand…” Zoe started to make her way towards the door, but paused before exiting. 

“Please let me know if you need anything…” after no response she walked out the room. She figured it would be best to respect his wish in giving him his space. 

Zoe has known Daniel long enough to know that he was embarrassed, hurt and angry. This is the second time a situation like this had occurred between the two. And although she was taken aback after hearing about their first altercation, she never really thought much about it. During that time, the tension between them was slightly understandable.

But not anymore. Roman crossed a line he had absolutely no damn right to. The audacity he had to even fucking put her in this situation in the first place, made her livid.

Zoe navigated through the maze of hallways backstage and outside to the parking area. As soon as she noticed his bus was still there she quickly walked towards it and banged on the door. Not having an ounce of fucking patience to wait, she swung the door open and stormed in.

“Seriously Roman, what the fuck is wrong with you!”

Roman glanced at the two medics who were assessing him, “Leave us.” They quickly stood up and scurried away.

As she waited for them to fully step out of the bus, she noticed how he practically came out of the fight unscathed. The only thing evident was a bruise on his cheekbone from when Daniel elbowed him.

“Attacking someone for simply speaking to me, as if you didn’t have your head buried in between my best friends legs, is fucking comical!”

Roman stayed silent, just like she knew he would. There was nothing he could fucking say. 

“Have you not embarrassed and humiliated me enough?” Her voice broke as tears began to pool in her eyes.

His eyes shut as he lowered his head, “Baby, I know that I hurt you… that I betrayed your trust. I’ll regret it every single night of my fucking life. I promise I’m not trying to make shit worse, but I’m not stupid, I fucking know his intentions.”

“You fucked my best friend, and you think you have the fucking right to be possessive over me?”

“Zoe, I didn’t fuck her.”

“Who gives a shit Roman! Am I supposed to fucking be thankful that you chose to bury your tongue inside of her instead of your dick?”

“No, that’s not what I—”

“Roman, I need you to understand this, you no longer have any right to tell me or anyone else shit. If I choose to fuck someone, it’s none of your damn business.”

Before he could speak, she continued, “You had no consideration for me the day you decided she was worth throwing all this away for. Be a man, and stand on that shit! You do you, while I do me. I’m sure your whores will be fucking delighted to have you back.” Zoe walked away without looking back, slamming the door shut behind her.

Every word she spoke felt like shards of glass embedded in Roman’s chest. There was nothing he could do or say to make the situation better.

One decision he made, broke the foundation of everything he built with her. The promise he made to her.

But he could see it. No matter how much she hated him, he knew deep down she still loved him. That’s something that would never go away that easily. 

He was going to fight for her, for them. There wasn’t a single fucking thing anyone could do to stop him.

…………….

Zoe brewed another pot of coffee as she waited for Naomi to arrive, her night was spent restless. Anytime she thought about the last conversation with Roman, she’d twist and turn unable to sleep. At this point, she was basically functioning purely on caffeine.

The sound of the doorbell snapped her out of her thoughts, once she reached the door handle she paused making sure to take a deep breath first.

“Hey Zo bug, what’s going on?” Naomi wrapped her arms around her resulting in Zoe instantly sobbing as she clung to the warmth of her tight embrace. Zoe had tried so hard to keep it together, but her tears and emotions clearly had other plans.

“Come on, let’s go inside.” Naomi set the flowers she brought for Zoe in the kitchen, and quickly went to join her in the living room.

As Naomi sat next to her and took in her appearance, she noticed how exhausted Zoe looked. Her puffy red eyes told her she’d been crying for a while now. Not to mention, how much thinner Zoe looked, the bright light in her eyes now seemed dimmed.

“How is Jimmy doing?”

“He’s doing good, surgery was a success. He’s already starting to do physical therapy so he should be back in no time.”

“That makes me happy to hear,” Zoe smiled.

Naomi placed her hand on top of Zoe’s, “Talk to me Zo, what’s been going on?”

Zoe chewed the inside of her lip and took a deep breath, “Roman cheated on me…”

“Wait… what?” Naomi quickly stood up from the couch in disbelief. She tried to convince herself that there was no way in hell she could have possibly heard her correctly.

Zoe sniffled and wiped at her eyes, “That’s not even the worst part…” 

Her voice broke as her bottom lip began to quiver, “It was with my best friend…and he fucking thinks just because he technically didn’t fuck her, it’s supposed to make shit better.”

“Oh my God,” Naomi was damn near rendered speechless, she walked back over to embrace Zoe as she began to cry her heart out.

“I heard about the fight with Daniel last night. I thought…I thought maybe you guys were just going through a rough patch or something.” This was the last thing Naomi ever expected to hear. Sure Roman has always been a hoe, but to her knowledge he was always honest and upfront about it. Cheating just seemed so…so beneath him. But that was an issue for another day, right now her focus was solely on Zoe.

“Do you want to keep this between us or—

“No. You can tell the twins or whoever, I couldn't care less anymore…”

“Okay, give me a second,” Naomi pulled her phone out and started typing, after a few minutes she put it back down.

“I just ordered us some food, I also let Jim know I’m going to be spending the night here.”

“Naomi it’s okay, you don’t have to—

“Zoe, you’re family. No matter what happens between you two, nothing will ever fucking change that. I want to be here for you, please let me.”

“T—Thank you.”

Naomi wiped some of the tears sliding down Zoe’s cheek, “I can tell you're holding a lot in Zoe…let it out. Tell me everything.”

…………………..

As the sun began to rise Zoe slowly began to stir awake, the low sound of the waves crashing against the rocks made her realize she fell asleep with the window open. The fresh breeze filled the room with a slight scent of the ocean.

It’s been one month since Zoe last saw or spoke to Roman. Since that awful night, he hadn’t come back to work. A part of her wondered if that was his choice or management’s. According to Naomi, he’s shut everyone out, keeping contact with Solo and the twins limited. 

Zoe’s tried her hardest not to think about him, but it’s rather difficult considering this being her last week living in this house that no longer felt like a home. Every moment that she spent packing, resulted in countless shed tears. So many beautiful memories that she held so close to her heart, now haunted her.

Being here simply wasn’t healthy anymore. She needed a fresh start where she wouldn’t be reminded of him everywhere she looked. Thanks to Naomi’s help, she was able to find an amazing apartment close in the area in a short amount of time. 

Zoe and Naomi have always been close, but during this rough period, she’s become like a sister to her. She truly doesn't know how she would have gotten through these past few weeks without her. 

As she was boxing and taping some of her last few items, she decided to text and check in with her mom. It’s something she’d been meaning to do for the past few weeks now, but since she’s been so consumed with her own personal problems, keeping tabs with her family hadn’t been on her usual basis.

Zoe: Been thinking about you mommy 🥺 how have you been? ❤️

Mom: I won’t lie sweetie, not the best… it’s been very hard. Two weeks from today makes a year since your dad passed…

I was thinking during that week, we could get together as a family for a few days at the lake house. Having each other’s shoulders to lean on during such a rough time, is something I think he’d want us to do. 

Zoe’s dad was her best friend, he was such a kind, loving, and selfless man. His values built the foundation of who she is till this very day. Losing him was easily one of the hardest things she’s ever experienced. Roman being her rock who never left her side during her grieving process made her eyes water. Never in a million years did she think just a year later she’d be seeing him in such a different light.

Zoe: Of course mom, wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll make arrangements so I can be there ❤️

Mom: Thank you sweetie, it would make me extremely happy if you could bring Ro too, you know how much your dad loved him. I know he’s a very busy man, but it would truly mean the world to me. ❤️

Fuck.

[httpvomitello]

Oh great writer, write for me a request of the Rise turtles reacting to getting surprise kissed/booped on the nose (whatever you prefer) and my LIFE, is yours!!

Jokes take your time obvs and no rush! Love your work!!

AAAAAAAKHDKSBSKJS OMG, These kinds of comments make me so happy, seriously! You guys always have such good suggestions, that it makes me want to do everything at once. Anyway, I hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

Unexpected Affection *⁠.⁠✧

Leo prided himself on being cool under pressure, but you? You always managed to throw him off his game.

It was a quiet night on the rooftops, the city buzzing faintly below. You had tagged along, keeping him company while the others were off in different parts of the city. As usual, he was trying to impress you, swinging his swords around in flashy movements.

“Pretty cool, right?” he said, grinning at you as he flourished his katana.

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm… yeah, I guess that was alright.”

Leo’s grin faltered for half a second before he dramatically clutched his chest. “Alright? That was the height of ninja excellence!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, stepping closer to him. “Alright, fearless leader, I’ll give you that.”

Before he could respond, you leaned in and kissed him right on the nose.

Leo froze, his swords clattering to the ground as his face turned bright red. “Wha—what was that?!”

You shrugged, trying to look innocent. “A little thanks for keeping me company.”

“I—you—you can’t just—” He sputtered, pointing at his nose. “You kissed me!”

“Is that a problem?” you teased, leaning in just a little closer.

Leo opened his mouth, then closed it, his brain clearly short-circuiting. Finally, he managed to croak, “Nope. No problem. Totally fine. Do that anytime.”

You grinned, patting his cheek. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

For the rest of the night, Leo was unusually quiet, and if his brothers noticed his red face when you returned, they were smart enough not to comment.

Raph wasn’t one for surprises. He liked to know what was coming, to protect his brothers and yourself too. So naturally, you loved catching him off guard.

The two of you were sparring in the lair, his massive frame towering over you as he carefully pulled his punches. “C’mon, Y/N, you gotta keep your guard up!” he said, smirking as you tried to land a punch.

“I am keeping my guard up,” you shot back, wiping sweat from your forehead.

“Not enough,” he teased, lunging toward you.

Instead of dodging, you stepped forward, catching him completely off guard as you reached up and booped him on the nose.

Raph blinked, stumbling back a step. “Did you just—”

“Boop,” you said, grinning as you tapped his nose again for good measure.

His face turned a deep shade of red, and for a moment, he looked utterly dumbfounded. Then he started to stutter, crossing his arms over his chest. “W-Why you... I m-mean... Why?”

“You were leaving yourself wide open,” you said innocently.

Raph sputtered, his blush creeping down his neck. “That’s not—ugh, this is a low blow.”

You laughed, patting his arm. “You love it.”

He grumbled something under his breath but didn’t push you away. And later, when he thought you weren’t looking, he touched his nose with a faint smile on his lips.

Donnie was in his element, tinkering with one of his many gadgets in the lab. You sat nearby, pretending to understand the stream of technobabble coming from him as he worked.

“So, by recalibrating the flux capacitor—”

“Pretty sure that’s from Back to the Future, Donnie,” you interrupted, smirking.

He paused, blinking at you over the rim of his glasses. “Uh, no, actually. This is a genuine flux capacitor. I created it myself.”

You couldn’t help but grin. He was so proud of his work, and you loved seeing him in his element. “Of course, you did, Don.”

He went back to his project, muttering to himself about the merits of his invention. You waited until he was fully focused, then leaned forward and kissed him gently on the nose.

Donnie stoped, his hand stilling mid-adjustment. His brain seemed to take a moment to catch up, and when it did, he turned to you with wide eyes. “Did you just… kiss me?”

“Yup,” you said, leaning back with a smug smile.

He blinked rapidly, his face slowly turning red as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “That was… unexpected.”

“Good unexpected or bad unexpected?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Good,” he said quickly, then seemed to realize how eager he sounded. “I mean, uh, it was… acceptable.”

“Acceptable?” you teased.

Donnie cleared his throat, turning back to his work in an attempt to hide his blush. “Don’t read too much into it, Y/N.”

But the way his hand kept drifting to his nose told you all you needed to know.

Mikey was always the one surprising you, so you figured it was time to turn the tables.

The two of you were in the kitchen, baking cookies—well, you were baking, and Mikey was mostly sneaking bites of dough when he thought you weren’t looking.

“Hey, hands off!” you said, smacking his wrist lightly as he reached for another scoop of dough.

“Aww, c’mon, Y/N, it’s a chef’s duty to taste-test!” he protested, grinning.

“You can taste-test once they’re baked,” you said firmly, rolling your eyes.

Mikey pouted, leaning dramatically against the counter. “You’re no fun.”

You laughed, shaking your head at his antics. Then, without warning, you leaned over and kissed him on the nose.

Mikey's eyes widened, his mouth falling open in surprise. “Did you just—”

“Yup,” you said, smirking as you went back to rolling out the dough.

He stood there for a moment, his brain clearly trying to process what had just happened. Then, a wide grin spread across his face, and he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands.

“You do love me,” he said, his voice sing-song.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head, Mikey.”

“Too late!” he said, laughing as he grabbed the dough and smeared a bit on your nose. “Now we’re even!”

You groaned, but you couldn’t help laughing as he darted out of reach, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

And if he was extra cheerful for the rest of the night, no one commented on it.

[sasukekys]

you would think a chapter named “fighting side by side” with team 7 on the cover right after they reunite would be a chapter about… team 7, about them fighting together, side by side. kishimoto seems to have other funny plans, though.

every time we see team 7 members actually fighting side by side… we only see naruto and sasuke.

either in closer or wider panels naruto and sasuke are the only ones to be seen by each other’s side. of course that is shown also through sakura’s pov, who always saw herself behind them. you would think that this moment in which she pulls her little speech about reaching out to them would put her on their side, finally, especially when she does her own thing and punches some monsters and the ground very impressively (contains irony).

i guess not, though, she might have gone ahead of them, but naruto and sasuke still remain by each other’s side, without sakura. another very funny metaphor, i might say, because this is what happens right after it:

sakura is so worried about throwing shade at her mentor that she is surprised by another monster attacking her. guess who’s left with the job to save her? ah yes... naruto and sasuke for the nth time in the manga, still together by each other’s side.

it’s like kishimoto puts her physically ahead of naruto and sasuke as a metaphor, especially when you consider that she always felt behind the boys, you’d think sakura is better now, competent, helpful, but one moment later and she’s already back at her place, the bragger that is all talking and no doing.

well, she’s by their side now, right? she’s finally caught up to them... yeah, but like i said, kishi has other funny plans, because the very next chapter we have naruto and sasuke drawn again side by side, eye to eye practically, and checking each other’s powers out, while sakura’s back is at them, oblivious in her delusions, not even as an afterthought to the boys. that should be clear enough, shouldn’t it? but kishimoto went ahead less than 10 chapters later to emphasise who the main act is.

this is how you do show don’t tell. characters saying sakura is strong don’t compensate for what we see of her, a constant building expectations that are always unfulfilled. you are fooled by your bias if you think kishimoto believes sakura has caught up to naruto and sasuke or that it is of his intentions to make team 7 the focus of the story, sakura might believe that, might even say that out loud, but it’s not what it is shown. well, not the first time she’s been delusional anyway. kishimoto cares about naruto and sasuke and their relationship. this is what sakura is to him, a character he consistently and intentionally writes as all barking and no doing, someone who doesn’t deliver anything substantial and that clearly doesn’t have any space or spotlight in the relationship he’s actually fond of.

[spiritsonic]

I loved Phantom Rider both in design and concept and if I'm not mistaken it was inspired by Kamen Rider, right? although he may also remind me a little of Protoman, could you tell me what the costume is made of and how it works? To me it looks like he's made of light or digitally materialized (which is a surprising feat for Eggman) and does the suit have low durability or can it be affected by electricity? since Surge gave an electric punch to the helmet, I know things can't be said to avoid spoilers, but does the suit have other functions that don't depend on Eggstreme Gear? like tools for self-defense? I would just love it if he continued to be a recurring character through something like Red X on Teen Titans

Yeah, the Phantom Rider was first inspired by Kamen Rider! Not really a specific specific series, though; I collected a bunch of suits I liked. Aaron Hammerstrom and Min Ho Kim did most of the actual designing, and they brought some influences of their own-- I think Protoman and other Megaman stuff was in there yes. Various Metal Sonic designs were pulled from, especially Metal 3.0 and the one from Sonic the Fighters; considering that the suit was made by Eggman for Sonic, it's natural that he'd pull from his Metal Sonic designs a bit. We've seen a handful of things that seem to be "hard light"-like creations in the series before; various platforms and roads, barriers, Phantom Ruby stuff (that's me speculating), etc. It's a bit of a leap for Eggman to harness it so handily, but not a huge one. The suit was made quickly so it isn't very durable; its primary purpose is to disguise, not protect. It can shield against some physical attacks but doesn't do great with energy, like we've seen with Surge's electricity.

As for if it'll reappear later on, who's to say? I know a lot of the comic team like it a lot, so never say never.

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Bunny - Health Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

(Part 4)

Pairing: Joker x Fem!Reader

Joker x Reader with Anxiety

Word Count: 9892

Warnings: Joker, lol

Summary: Poor Y/n let herself go while Joker was locked up, now she's sick and Joker's goons have to look after her

(MASTERLIST) (Part Three) -

A/N: Took a while to get this one out (shocking) but got it done! a bit on the shorter side of my other fics, but I didn't really have much for this part, it's more of a little fun one

(Laptop was playing up again, so had to post from my phone, will fix later)

Hope you enjoy this part 💚

-

It had been an agonising week without Joker. Normally, this wouldn't have been a cause for concern, disappearing for stretches of time was just something he did. But this time was different. This time, she knew he was in trouble, and the weight of that knowledge pressed down on her like a vice. Her anxiety, already a constant companion, had become an unbearable storm of worry and dread.

The news outlets seized every opportunity to cover the story of Joker being locked up, using every scrap of information. While the police remained tight-lipped, determined to withhold key details, the public had ways of uncovering the truth.

Grainy cell phone footage of Joker in a shitty holding cell circulated online, and rumours spread like wildfire. Everyone seemed to have an opinion, their voices merging into a deafening roar that only added to Y/n’s unease.

Every time she passed a television or scrolled through her phone, there it was, his face plastered across the screen. Headlines blared about his arrest, speculating on his motives, his crimes, and what the authorities planned to do with him. Each broadcast felt like a punch to the gut, a painful reminder that he was out there, caged, while she was here, powerless to do anything about it.

She was surprised to see that his makeup was still intact. Whether the authorities hadn’t bothered to remove it or had tried and failed, it didn’t matter. His face remained as she remembered it, boldly painted and defiant, other than little empty patches here and there. Oddly enough, it brought her a small sense of comfort, a reminder that even in their custody, he was still him.

She couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Her mind replayed their last moments together over and over, dissecting every detail, searching for some sign, anything, that he had a plan to get out of this. Because he always had a plan…didn’t he?

Y/n paced her small apartment, her nails chewed down to the quick, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. She considered calling someone, Rocco, maybe, but what would she say? Who could she trust? And even if she found someone to talk to, what could they do?

The uncertainty gnawed at her. Joker’s absence wasn’t just a void in her life, it was a ticking time bomb, and she was terrified of what might happen when it finally exploded.

The days dragged on, blurring together as Y/n confined herself to her room. She couldn’t bring herself to do much of anything. Her appetite was nonexistent, and the thought of eating made her stomach churn. The only thing she consumed was water, and even that was more out of necessity than care.

The once-cozy space she called home felt suffocating, the walls seeming to close in on her. Her bed became her constant companion, the blankets pulled around her like armour against the world outside. She hadn’t bothered to tidy up or even open the curtains. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of her phone screen.

Her reflection in the mirror told a story of exhaustion, dark circles under her eyes, her skin pale and dull. She felt as though the weight of her worry for Joker had physically anchored her to the bed.

She didn’t want to see anyone. Avoiding her friends, ignoring texts, and letting her phone calls go unanswered, she kept herself isolated. Leaving her room felt pointless when her mind was consumed by thoughts of him.

Her chest tightened every time the news flickered on in her head, imagining the cold, sterile cell he was probably in. It was a mental loop she couldn’t break out of, and it left her drained.

Y/n’s neglect of herself was becoming painfully obvious, the toll on her body undeniable. Her once-vibrant complexion had turned discoloured and lifeless, dark shadows lingering beneath her hollow eyes. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, the lack of proper nourishment leaving her looking gaunt and fragile.

Her energy levels had plummeted. Even simple tasks like standing up or walking across the room left her feeling lightheaded and weak. Her muscles ached from lying in bed for so long, and her legs felt shaky when she did manage to pull herself up.

The dehydration was catching up with her, despite the water she drank. Her lips were cracked, her skin dry and rough to the touch. Her hair hung limp and dull, reflecting the lifelessness she felt inside.

Her immune system stretched thin from stress and lack of sustenance, left her vulnerable to every chill in the air. She must have developed a slight fever that she didn’t have the strength to care about, brushing off the sweat on her brow as just another inconvenience.

Y/n’s body was screaming for help, yet her mind remained fixated on Joker. It was as if she’d become a shadow of herself, physically and mentally drained, all because the one person she cared about most was out of her reach.

Y/n lay sprawled on her bed, her body heavy with exhaustion. Her arms felt like lead, barely able to reach the half-empty water bottle sitting on her bedside table. Her fingers brushed against it weakly, but even the small effort was too much. She let out a soft, defeated sigh, her dry lips barely parting.

Her gaze, blurred and unfocused, was fixed on the ceiling when the creak of her door made her heart skip. She thought it was just another trick of her mind, her exhaustion had caused her to hallucinate sounds before. But this time, shadows fell across the dim room, and she slowly turned her head.

Her vision was too poor to make out details, the figures were just dark blurs against the soft glow of the hallway light. Panic fluttered in her chest. Was she dreaming? Or had her mind finally cracked? She blinked hard, trying to clear her sight, but the figures remained.

Then one of them stepped closer, and a familiar, gravelly voice filled the room. “Boss sent us,” Rocco said simply, his tone gruff yet somehow grounding.

Y/n’s breath hitched. It wasn’t a hallucination. These were real people, they were in her room. She managed to push herself up on trembling arms, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. How had they gotten in? The door was locked...wasn’t it? How fucking shit was this dorm’s security?

Her bleary eyes darted to the second figure, standing just behind Rocco. She didn’t recognise him, this one was new. He stayed silent, his broad frame looming in the doorway, while Rocco stepped closer.

“Damn, kid,” Rocco muttered, his voice softer now as he looked her over. “You look like hell.”

Y/n didn’t respond, her throat dry and her mind too foggy to form words. All she could do was stare at them, trying to process what was happening.

The realization hit her like a jolt. Joker. Was he okay? Did he send them to check on her? Did this mean… he was still out there? Her hands gripped the sheets beneath her tightly, desperate for answers, but too weak to demand them.

Rocco stepped closer, crouching down so his face was level with hers. His sharp features softened slightly as he took in her dishevelled state. “You’re not taking care of yourself,” he muttered, a mix of irritation and concern in his voice. “Boss wouldn’t like this. He sent us here to make sure you’re still kickin’.”

Y/n blinked slowly, her head swimming with questions, but the mention of Joker made her heart clench. Her lips moved, though no sound came out at first. She swallowed hard, wincing at the dryness in her throat before croaking, “Joker...?”

The second man, the one she didn’t recognise, stepped forward now, his arms crossed. His gaze flicked over her like he was assessing her condition. “He’s fine,” the man said curtly. “But he’s got…other things to handle right now.”

Rocco shot the man a look, clearly annoyed by his lack of tact. “What he means,” Rocco said, his tone more measured, “is that the Boss can’t exactly walk through your front door right now. So, he sent us. He wanted us to check in, make sure you’re okay, and…” He hesitated, glancing back at the other man before sighing. “...and make sure you get back on your feet.”

Y/n felt a rush of emotions, relief that Joker was alive, frustration at her own helplessness, and confusion about why these two were standing in her room like they belonged there. “How…how did you get in?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Rocco smirked faintly. “Lock wasn’t much of a challenge,” he said, jerking a thumb at the other man. “Frankie here’s got a knack for getting through doors. Don’t worry, though. We’re not here to cause trouble.”

Frankie, so that was the name of the stranger, gave a curt nod but said nothing. His presence felt imposing, but he didn’t seem hostile.

Y/n tried to sit up straighter, her body protesting with every movement. Her head swam as she forced out another question. “Why…why did he send you?”

Rocco reached over to the bedside table, grabbed her water bottle and handed it to her. “Boss cares about you, kid,” he said, his voice a little softer now. “More than you probably realise. He doesn’t like the idea of you wasting away while he’s out there handling business. Said if you don’t start taking care of yourself, he’ll have to come sort you out himself. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

Y/n took the bottle with shaky hands, her eyes wide as she processed his words. The thought of Joker sending these two to check on her, even while he was dealing with his own problems, made her chest tighten. He cared. In his own chaotic, unpredictable way, he cared.

Rocco stood up, brushing off his knees. “We’re here to help, alright? Whether you like it or not. So, drink up and get moving. Boss wouldn’t want you like this.”

Y/n hesitated, then took a small sip of the water. It was lukewarm and tasted metallic, but it was the first thing she’d managed to drink properly in days. She nodded faintly, her voice still weak but determined. “Okay.”

Rocco’s patience quickly wore thin as he watched Y/n take another feeble sip of water and sink back into the mattress. “Alright, that’s it,” he said firmly, straightening up and rolling his shoulders like he was preparing for a task he didn’t particularly enjoy. “You’re coming with us. Boss’s orders.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, panic flickering in them. “What? I can’t–” she stammered, but before she could finish, Rocco leaned down and grabbed her arm gently but insistently.

“You don’t get a say in this, sweetheart,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Boss wants you outta this bed, and that’s what’s happening.”

The other man, Frankie, sighed and moved to the other side of the bed, his expression unreadable but his stance ready to assist. “She’s not exactly in any condition to walk on her own,” he muttered.

“I can tell,” Rocco replied sharply. “That’s why we’re here. Now, up you go.” He pulled her up to a sitting position with surprising care, though his grip was unyielding. Y/n groaned, the motion making her head spin and her stomach churn.

“I can’t…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t even stand.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Rocco said as if it were the simplest solution in the world. “But you’re not staying here, wasting away. Boss ’ll have my head if we leave you like this.”

Y/n tried to protest, but before she could, Frankie slipped an arm under her knees and another around her back, lifting her effortlessly out of the bed. She gasped in surprise, her body trembling from the sudden movement.

“Don’t drop me!” she cried weakly, her hands clutching at his shirt.

Frankie scoffed. “Relax.”

Rocco opened the door, stepping out first to make sure the coast was clear. “Move it, Frankie. Let’s get her to the van.”

Frankie carried her out of the room, his movements steady but brisk. The cool air in the hallway hit her like a slap, and her already fragile state made it hard to keep her eyes open. Her head lolled against Frankie’s shoulder as they made their way outside.

The van was parked at the curb, its engine idling softly. Rocco opened the back door, gesturing for Frankie to set her down. “Easy now,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft.

Frankie carefully eased Y/n into the van’s backseat, her body slumping against the upholstery. Rocco climbed in beside her, positioning her so she wouldn’t slide around during the ride. He reached over to buckle her seatbelt, muttering, “Don’t even think about trying to wiggle out of this. Boss ’ll hear about it.”

Y/n didn’t have the energy to argue. Her head rested against the window, her body aching and weak, but somewhere deep down, a flicker of curiosity sparked through the haze of exhaustion. Where was she being taken?

-

The van rumbled to a stop in a dimly lit alleyway, the oppressive gloom of the Narrows seeping in through the windows. Y/n barely stirred, her frail body sagging against the seatbelt. Rocco turned to glance at her, his expression somewhere between irritation and concern.

“We’re here,” he muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt. Frankie was already out of the van, opening the back door and reaching in to unbuckle Y/n.

“C’mon, girl,” Frankie said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “Boss wouldn’t want you sitting out here all night.”

Y/n blinked slowly, her vision still a blur. She didn’t have the strength to protest as Frankie once again lifted her, cradling her like she weighed nothing. The cold night air nipped at her skin as they exited the van.

The building in front of them was dilapidated, its bricks cracked and stained, with faint graffiti scrawled across the lower walls. The windows glowed faintly from inside, casting eerie shadows onto the narrow street.

“An apartment?” Y/n mumbled weakly, her voice barely audible.

“Temporary safe house,” Rocco said curtly, leading the way to the door. “Boss’s orders.”

Frankie adjusted his hold on her as they climbed a narrow, creaking staircase that felt like it might give way at any moment. Y/n groaned softly, her head lolling against Frankie’s chest. The exhaustion in her body made the journey feel endless, each step rattling through her fragile frame.

On the third floor, Rocco stopped in front of a battered door with peeling paint. He fished out a key, unlocking it with a click before pushing it open. The apartment inside was sparse but clean enough, furnished with the basics, a couch, a small table, a kitchenette, and a bed tucked into the corner of the single room.

Frankie carried Y/n inside, laying her carefully on the couch. She let out a faint sigh of relief as her body sank into the mattress, her muscles aching from the short journey. Rocco lingered near the door, crossing his arms as he surveyed the room.

“Not exactly five-star,” Rocco said, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “But it’ll do.”

“Boss said to keep her here and make sure she eats something,” Frankie said, stepping back and stretching his arms. “She looks like she’s about to keel over.”

“Yeah, well, she’s been like that for days, hasn’t she?” Rocco grumbled. “I’ll have a look. Can’t let her starve.”

As Y/n lay on the couch, barely able to keep her eyes open, a thought began to gnaw at the back of her mind. She hadn’t fully processed it before, but now, with Rocco and Frankie’s casual conversation, it became clear.

They were talking about him, Joker, like he was still calling the shots, like he was still in control, even though he was locked up and under 24/7 security. Her heart skipped a beat, a mixture of confusion and curiosity flooding her veins.

The implications of it all settled in her chest, heavy and unsettling. How were they in contact with him? Was he somehow orchestrating everything from behind bars? Was he pulling the strings while locked away, unable to move?

She tried to sit up, her body protesting the movement as if the world around her was spinning. The dizziness from the exertion made her head throb. She let out a shaky breath, trying to focus as she reached for the water bottle beside her. Her fingers trembled as she unscrewed the cap, the cold liquid soothing her parched throat. But the question remained.

How is he still in control? she thought, her mind racing. She hadn’t heard anything about Joker’s escape, nor did it make sense that he could have any influence from inside a high-security facility. So how? How were his goons able to move so freely?

She glanced over at Frankie and Rocco. They didn’t seem concerned, almost like it was business as usual. Rocco was leaning against the wall, checking his phone, and Frankie was off to the side, inspecting the small kitchenette. Neither of them gave any indication that they were afraid or worried about Joker's imprisonment.

Y/n felt a pit in her stomach. Was he that powerful, even locked up? She didn’t know what to believe anymore. The whole situation felt surreal like being stuck in a bad dream.

“He’s always had a plan,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. "He always has a way."

The weight of the situation settled deeper into her chest as she realized that Joker was always three steps ahead. Even now, even when everything seemed to be falling apart, Joker had found a way to keep his reach, his control, intact.

But how much longer could he stay in control from inside a cell? How much longer before something broke? Before she broke?

She closed her eyes, trying to push the fear away, but it lingered. It always did when it came to him.

Rocco reappeared from the kitchen, holding a paper bag that crinkled loudly as he walked toward her. He tossed it onto the table with a heavy thud, then turned back to the cabinets, muttering something to Frankie under his breath. Frankie came over to the couch and crouched in front of Y/n, his gruff face softening just a bit.

“You need to eat, girl. You’re lookin’ worse than a dead man,” he said, pulling out a plastic-wrapped sandwich and a juice box from the bag.

Y/n blinked at the items as if they were foreign. It had been days since she’d eaten anything substantial, and the idea of food felt distant, almost abstract. Still, Frankie didn’t give her much choice.

“Come on,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. He unwrapped the sandwich for her and held it out. “A few bites, at least. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

Her stomach churned at the thought, but she nodded weakly. With trembling hands, she took the sandwich from him and managed a small bite. The dry bread felt foreign against her tongue, and the first swallow was like pushing a rock down her throat. But then the second bite came easier, and the third after that.

Rocco turned back around, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hand. “Gotta admit, didn’t expect you to be this far gone,” he said bluntly.

Frankie shot him a warning glare, but Rocco shrugged. “What? She looks like she’s been through hell.”

“She’s been through enough,” Frankie snapped, his voice lower this time. “Just shut up and let her eat.”

Y/n barely registered the exchange, too focused on the sandwich and the juice box that Frankie had handed her. The sweetness of the juice was a shock to her system, waking her up a little more as it soothed her dry throat.

“Better?” Frankie asked after a moment.

Y/n nodded faintly. “Thanks,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Good,” Rocco said, moving closer to the couch. He placed a bottle of water on the table beside her.

“You’ll need your strength. Don’t know what’s comin’ next, but Boss wouldn’t be happy seeing you like this.” Hearing that sent a pang through her chest. Joker.

Even when he wasn’t there, his shadow loomed large, dictating their actions. And here he was, using that power for her. Joker’s influence reached her even now, in her lowest state, orchestrating everything from behind the scenes. As unsettling as it was, a small part of her, a part she didn’t fully understand, felt comforted by it.

-

Y/n lay curled up on the worn couch, her body trembling despite the cheap oil heater buzzing weakly beside her. The warmth it offered was pitiful, barely taking the edge off the icy chill that had settled into her bones. Her skin felt clammy, her breaths uneven, and her forehead was hot to the touch. She was clearly feverish, and even in her half-conscious state, she could feel how badly her body was struggling to fight off the fatigue.

Frankie paced back and forth, running a hand through his greying hair. “She’s shivering like a damn leaf,” he muttered, glancing nervously at Rocco. “What the hell are we supposed to do? I don’t know nothin’ about takin’ care of a sick person!”

Rocco sat slumped in a chair at the dining table, his arms crossed. “What do I look like, a nurse?” he snapped, his frustration barely contained.

He glanced over at Y/n, her frail form looking smaller than ever under the thin blanket draped over her. He let out a long sigh and stood. “Alright, let’s think. Fever, right? You’re supposed to–uh–what? Cool her down? Or warm her up?”

Frankie rolled his eyes. “Both? Neither? Hell if I know! You think I went to med school?” He rubbed at his face, muttering under his breath, “Boss didn’t say nothin’ about this kind of situation.”

Rocco grumbled and approached the couch, peering down at Y/n like she was some fragile, alien creature.

“She’s shakin’ like crazy,” he said, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “What if we just...I dunno...get more blankets? Or turn the heater up?”

He leaned down and gave the old oil heater a hard smack, but it didn’t do much besides rattle noisily. “Piece of shit,” he muttered.

“More blankets?” Frankie echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, great plan, genius. You wanna bury her in a mountain of old fabric and hope for the best? Real top-tier care there, Dr. Rocco.”

He shook his head and started rummaging through the cabinets, clearly searching for something that might help. “Maybe there’s medicine or some kinda first aid kit around here,” he said, opening drawers with loud thuds.

Rocco scowled but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed a glass, filled it with water from the sink, and brought it back to the couch. He crouched down beside Y/n, nudging her shoulder gently.

“Hey, girl,” he said awkwardly, his gruffness giving way to something softer. “You gotta drink some water. Can’t let you keel over on us, alright?”

Y/n groaned faintly, her eyes fluttering open just enough to see Rocco’s concerned face hovering above her. “Can’t...move,” she mumbled, her voice weak and barely audible.

Frankie returned, holding up a bottle of aspirin triumphantly. “Found somethin’! Says it’s for fevers,” he declared.

Then he frowned, looking at the label. “Uh...how much do you give someone? One pill? Two?”

“Well, what does the box say?” Rocco grunted.

“I don’t know, the instructions have been worn off,” Frankie said, squinting at the box.

“Just give her one to start. We don’t need to knock her out cold.” He turned back to Y/n and gently pressed the glass to her lips. “Come on, drink,” he coaxed. “It’s just water.”

With effort, Y/n managed a small sip, though most of the water dribbled down her chin. Frankie handed over the aspirin, and Rocco awkwardly placed it in her mouth, tipping the glass again to help her swallow.

When she finally did, Frankie let out a relieved sigh. “Okay, good. That’s somethin’, at least.”

But the two men were clearly out of their depth, and it showed. They stood by the couch like sentries, unsure of their next move.

Frankie scratched his head, mumbling, “We need someone who actually knows what the hell they’re doin’. This ain’t our thing, man.”

Rocco nodded, his usual bravado replaced with a rare flicker of worry. “Yeah, well, until then, we keep her alive. Boss would kill us if somethin’ happened to her.”

He glanced at Y/n, who had already slipped back into a restless sleep. Her shivering continued, even with their clumsy attempts to help. “We gotta figure this out,” he muttered.

Y/n stirred on the couch, her face scrunched up. Frankie, who had been pacing near the window, noticed immediately and groaned.

“Now what?” he asked, throwing his hands in the air.

Y/n grimaced again, her lips twisting in discomfort. “That aspirin…” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “Tasted...weird. Like...really weird.” She made a faint gagging noise and stuck out her tongue, clearly unhappy with whatever lingering aftertaste it left behind.

Frankie narrowed his eyes and turned to Rocco, who was leaning against the wall. “What the hell does she mean, ‘tasted weird’? You gave her somethin’ bad?”

Rocco straightened up, looking offended. “I didn’t make the damn pills, Frankie! I just gave her what you found!”

Frankie stomped over to the kitchen counter where the small box of aspirin sat. Snatching it up, he squinted at the faded label.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” he muttered. “This thing’s...expired! Look at this! Says it went bad two years ago!” He turned the box toward Rocco, jabbing at the tiny print with his finger.

Rocco groaned, running a hand down his face. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” he muttered. “Who keeps expired meds in their place? Like, throw it out already!”

“Apparently these guys don’t care about restocking the essentials,” Frankie shot back. He threw the box onto the counter with a loud thud. “And now we probably poisoned her on top of everything else!”

“Relax, Frankie,” Rocco said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced himself. “What’s the worst expired aspirin can do? Lose some of its kick? She ain’t foamin’ at the mouth or anything, is she?”

Y/n, still curled on the couch, managed a weak glare at the two men. “You guys…are terrible at this,” she mumbled.

Frankie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. We suck at playin’ nursemaids. But cut us some slack, huh? This ain’t exactly what we signed up for when joining Joker’s gang.”

Rocco shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Great. Boss is gonna love hearin’ we gave his girl bad pills. Just perfect.”

Y/n, too tired to engage further, closed her eyes and tried to ignore the bitter taste still lingering in her mouth.

Frankie and Rocco exchanged an exasperated look before Frankie finally grumbled, “Alright, that’s it. No more meds until we double-check this crap. I ain’t takin’ any more chances.”

“Gee, why didn’t I think of that,” Rocco muttered, though the jab lacked its usual bite.

-

Frankie and Rocco stood awkwardly around Y/n, who had drifted back into an uneasy rest on the couch.

Frankie pulled out his phone, scrolling rapidly. “Alright, lemme just Google this fever crap. Can’t be that hard, right?”

Rocco leaned over his shoulder, squinting at the screen. “What’s it say?”

“Uh…” Frankie squinted, reading aloud. “‘Keep them hydrated, plenty of water.’” He gestured at the half-empty glass on the coffee table. “Nailed that one already.”

“Barely,” Rocco muttered, rolling his eyes.

Frankie ignored him and kept reading. “‘Medications to reduce fever.’” He immediately grimaced and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Yeah, no. We ain’t doin’ that shit again.”

“Definitely not,” Rocco agreed, glaring briefly at the expired aspirin box still sitting on the counter.

Frankie pulled his phone back out, tapping on a new link. “Okay, here’s a blog post...‘hot soups help.’ See? We’re getting somewhere!”

Rocco folded his arms, unimpressed. “Hot soup, huh? What’re we supposed to do, whip that up in this dump?”

Frankie snapped his fingers. “Hold up! I saw some canned soup in the cupboard earlier. Gimme a second.”

He shuffled into the kitchen, rummaging through a cabinet, and emerged triumphantly holding a dusty can of chicken noodle soup. “Jackpot!”

Rocco pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Frankie, that thing looks older than the aspirin. You’re not feeding her that.”

“It’s soup! It’s basically immortal,” Frankie argued, waving the can around.

“No,” Rocco said firmly. “You’re not risking Boss’s girl on canned science experiments. Get your ass to the store and buy her some fresh stuff.”

Frankie groaned. “Man, come on! The store’s, like, five blocks away!”

“And?” Rocco crossed his arms, his glare cutting. “Go. And don’t come back with anything cheap.”

Muttering under his breath, Frankie grabbed his coat and stormed toward the door. “This is ridiculous. First a nurse, now a delivery guy. What’s next, a fuckin’ florist?”

Rocco just waved him off, turning back to check on Y/n as Frankie disappeared into the hallway.

Rocco sat down heavily on the chair opposite Y/n, watching her shiver even under the blanket draped over her.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Y/n stirred slightly, cracking her eyes open. She looked at him, her expression groggy and confused.

“Where’d he go?” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rocco leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Frankie’s gone to grab you some real food. Something to help with the fever.”

Y/n gave a weak nod, closing her eyes again. “Thanks…” The room fell silent except for the faint hum of the oil heater struggling to warm the space.

Rocco glanced at it, frowning. “Piece of junk,” he muttered, standing up to adjust the settings. When it didn’t do much, he huffed in frustration.

-

The door creaked open quietly, and Frankie slipped inside, juggling several heavy grocery bags. Y/n was finally asleep on the couch, bundled up in blankets. Rocco, who had been sitting nearby and keeping watch, stood up and stalked over, his brows furrowed at the sight of the bulging bags.

“What the hell is all this shit?” Rocco hissed, gesturing toward the bags as he took a couple to lighten the load.

Frankie scowled, kicking the door shut behind him. “I don’t know, man. I went to grab some canned soup like you said, but some old lady saw me standing there and decided to get involved.”

Rocco raised a brow. “What do you mean, ‘got involved’?”

Frankie set the bags down on the counter with a grunt. “She started giving me a lecture about how canned soup isn’t good enough for someone sick, then walked me around the store grabbing vegetables and spices and crap. Kept saying, ‘Make her a proper soup.’ I don’t even know what the hell that means!”

Rocco stared at him, then at the bags now spilling over with carrots, celery, onions, and random herbs. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “You mean to tell me, instead of just heating up a can, we now gotta make soup from scratch?”

Frankie shrugged helplessly. “Apparently. Look, she was scary, okay? You try saying no to someone’s grandma when she’s lecturing you in the middle of the store.”

Rocco jaw hung open, looking at Frankie. “You have a gun..you’re 6 foot fucking something…and some little old lady scared you into making soup..”

“Hey man, I ain’t never gon’ mess with an old lady…besides, she had a heart of gold,” Frankie pouted, looking absolutely ridiculous.

Rocco muttered a string of curses under his breath as he started unpacking the bags. “Great. Just great. Now we’re chefs.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said to get her the good stuff,” Frankie shot back, grabbing a knife and a cutting board. “Guess this is what the good stuff looks like.”

Rocco glared at the pile of ingredients like it had personally offended him. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. But if you screw this up, you’re eating it.”

Together, they fumbled their way through prepping the vegetables, with a hastily Googled recipe on Frankie’s phone that neither of them could agree on.

“This one says dice the carrots, but what the hell is a dice? Like cubes?” Frankie squinted at the screen.

“Cubes? What are we, making toys? Just chop the damn things,” Rocco shot back, already wielding a knife like it was a weapon. He hacked at an onion, the uneven pieces scattering across the cutting board.

Frankie grabbed a stalk of celery, holding it whole above the pot. “Do you think we can just throw these in as is? I mean, they’ll, like…dissolve, right?”

Rocco stared at him in horror and swatted the celery out of his hands. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t just chuck that in like a log! Cut it into pieces!”

“Okay, okay, relax,” Frankie grumbled, fumbling for the knife and hacking at the celery with no regard for uniformity.

Rocco groaned, snatching the knife from him. “That’s not cutting, that’s mangling. You’re lucky she’s too sick to care what this looks like.”

It took twice as long as it should have, with constant interruptions of “Is this small enough?” and “Are you sure that goes in the pot?”

Eventually, they managed to get all the vegetables chopped into vaguely even pieces. By the time they added everything to the pot, they were both sweating and grumbling.

Frankie stirred the mixture triumphantly. “Alright, that wasn’t so bad.”

Rocco glanced over his shoulder at the recipe still open on the phone. His face fell. “You idiot. Did you even read the part where it says this has to simmer for two hours?”

Frankie froze, spoon in hand. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Two hours. Minimum.” Rocco threw his hands in the air. “We’re gonna be here all night.”

Frankie groaned, slumping against the counter. “How does anyone have the patience for this? I should’ve just stuck with the canned stuff.”

“Yeah, but now we’re committed,” Rocco grumbled, crossing his arms.

He eyed the bubbling pot, already dreading the wait. Despite their frustrations, neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt a little satisfaction in knowing they’d gone the extra mile. After all, they weren’t doing this for themselves.

-

The soup had finally been left to simmer, and the two men sat at the small table in the corner of the apartment, exhausted from their makeshift cooking adventure. Rocco had his arms crossed, leaning back in the chair, while Frankie tapped his fingers against the table impatiently.

“How long’s it been?” Frankie asked.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

Frankie groaned and leaned forward, resting his head on the table. “We should’ve just bought one of those instant soups. Heat it, serve it, done. Why did I listen to some random old lady?”

Rocco shot him a look. “Because you don’t have a spine, Frankie.”

The soft sound of mumbling caught their attention, and they both turned toward the couch. Y/n was stirring, her eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again. She shifted slightly, curling up tighter under the blanket.

“Think she’s gonna wake up?” Frankie whispered.

“Not if we’re lucky,” Rocco replied, though his gaze lingered on her pale face, still marked with exhaustion.

A faint bubbling noise came from the kitchen, and Frankie bolted up. “Crap, is it boiling over?”

They rushed to the pot like a couple of amateur chefs, Frankie grabbing the spoon to stir while Rocco adjusted the heat.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Rocco muttered, glaring at the pot as if daring it to betray them.

Frankie stirred a few more times before stepping back, looking genuinely relieved. “Okay, I think we’ve got it under control. Now what?”

“Now we wait. Again,” Rocco said, rubbing his face. He glanced toward the couch. “She’s still out, so at least we don’t have to explain why the kitchen smells like…well…that.”

“Yeah yeah,” Frankie muttered, leaning against the counter.

The hours dragged on as the soup slowly came together. They took turns checking the pot and whispering arguments about whether it needed more salt or if the vegetables were soft enough. It wasn’t exactly gourmet cooking, but by the time the two hours were up, the apartment smelled surprisingly good.

Frankie grabbed a spoon and tasted it, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Hey, it’s…not bad. I mean, it’s edible.”

“Edible isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement,” Rocco muttered, but he grabbed a spoon and took a taste as well.

He frowned, then nodded reluctantly. “Alright, it’s decent. Let’s see if she can actually eat it.”

They carefully ladled the soup into a bowl, Rocco holding it steady while Frankie grabbed a spoon. As they approached Y/n, still curled up on the couch, Frankie nudged her shoulder gently.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Wake up, we’ve got something for you.”

Y/n stirred, her tired eyes blinking open. She looked up at them groggily, her voice barely above a whisper. “What…is it?”

“Homemade soup,” Rocco said, setting the bowl on the small table next to her. “Don’t ask how we made it, just eat it.”

Y/n stared at the bowl suspiciously, then looked up at them. “You made this?”

“Yeah, and it took forever, so you better appreciate it,” Frankie grumbled, but there was a hint of pride in his voice.

With their help, she sat up slowly and took the bowl into her hands. The warmth of the soup felt comforting, and as she took a small sip, her eyes widened slightly. “It’s…good.”

Rocco and Frankie exchanged a look, both pretending to shrug it off, but the relief on their faces was unmistakable.

“Damn right, it is,” Frankie said, pulling a chair over to sit nearby. “Now eat up. We’re not going through that again anytime soon.”

Despite her exhaustion, Y/n managed a faint smile as she took another sip. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel quite so terrible.

As Y/n slowly worked her way through the bowl of soup, the two men hovered nearby, pretending to busy themselves but clearly watching her every move. Frankie leaned against the counter, tossing a dishrag between his hands, while Rocco pretended to scroll through his phone.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” Y/n muttered, her voice still raspy but carrying a faint note of amusement.

Frankie snorted. “Babysitting implies we actually know what we’re doing. This is more like damage control.”

Rocco smirked but didn’t look up. “Just eat. You’ve looked like a ghost for days, and it’s freaking me out.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but continued eating. The soup wasn’t just warm, it felt like it was slowly pulling her back from the brink. Despite their clumsy efforts, the two had managed to create something that didn’t just fill her stomach but soothed her.

When she finished, she set the bowl down on the table and leaned back against the couch cushions. “Thanks,” she said softly, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Don’t mention it,” Frankie said, quickly grabbing the bowl and heading to the kitchen.

Rocco sat down in the chair across from her, his arms resting on his knees. He studied her for a moment before speaking. “You’ve gotta start taking better care of yourself, you know that, right?”

Y/n cracked an eye open and gave him a weak glare. “Kinda hard when you feel like shit all the time.”

“Yeah, well, feeling like shit isn’t gonna stop the boss from tearing into us if something happens to you,” Rocco muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

The mention of Joker made her heart skip a beat, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she closed her eyes again, letting the warmth of the soup settle over her like a blanket.

Frankie returned from the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. “Alright, since you’re fed, it’s bedtime. Doctor Google says rest is key or whatever.”

“Doctor Google?” Y/n mumbled, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah, and don’t laugh. It’s the only medical degree we’ve got around here,” Frankie shot back, tossing the towel onto the counter.

Rocco stood up, stretching. “He’s right, though. You need to sleep. We’ll be here, so don’t worry about anything, alright?”

Y/n opened her eyes briefly, glancing between the two. Despite their gruff attitudes and questionable bedside manners, she could tell they were genuinely trying to help.

“Alright,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Frankie grabbed an extra blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over her as she curled up on the couch. Rocco turned the heater up a notch, muttering something about the drafty apartment.

As they settled into their makeshift positions, Frankie lounging in the armchair and Rocco leaning against the wall, Y/n let herself drift off, the sound of their quiet banter lulling her to sleep.

For the first time in days, she didn’t feel entirely alone.

-

Rocco had just settled back into the creaky chair, giving Frankie a side-eye as he scrolled through his phone. The apartment felt oddly quiet for once, with Y/n asleep on the couch and the sound of the heater humming in the background.

But the silence was shattered when Rocco's phone rang, cutting through the stillness. He stared at the screen, confused by the number.

"Who the hell..." he muttered, before swiping the screen to answer. "Yeah?"

There was a brief moment of silence, then a familiar voice came through the phone, rough and slightly distorted, as if coming from a distance. "Rocco."

Rocco froze, eyes widening. His grip tightened around the phone. "Boss? Is that you?"

A low grunt came from the other end, the voice now unmistakable. “No, it’s Santa. Give the phone to her.”

Without wasting another second, he pushed himself out of the chair, walking over to Y/n, who was lying on the couch, her breathing slow and steady in deep sleep. He hesitated for a moment, looking at her peaceful face before shaking her gently.

“Hey, wake up. Phone’s for you,” Rocco said, his voice low.

Y/n groaned softly, stirring under the blanket, her eyelids fluttering open but still heavy with sleep.

“Mmhmm?” she mumbled, barely registering what he said, her voice thick with drowsiness.

“Take the phone,” Rocco said, pressing the phone into her hand with a small, apologetic smile.

Y/n’s eyes, still foggy with sleep, took a moment to process his words. But when she heard the familiar voice come through the phone, her heart skipped a beat.

“Hey, Bunny.”

Her eyes shot wide open at the sound of his voice, disbelief and relief flooding through her all at once. "J!" she gasped, sitting up quickly despite the remnants of sleep dragging at her.

“That’s right, Bunny.” Joker’s voice came through low, almost muffled. “Now, listen. I don’t have much time, so don’t say anything that’ll get you in trouble. No names, no details. Just keep it simple.”

“Okay...” Y/n whispered, almost in disbelief that she was hearing him. Her pulse raced in her chest.

“How you holding up? They uh..treating you okay?” Joker’s voice was rough, but there was an unmistakable thread of concern woven in, something that made her heart swell.

Y/n paused for a moment, her thoughts racing. “Yes, they’re keeping me good...I had food, water, and sleep,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, not wanting to worry him any more than he already might be.

“They feed you?” Joker repeated, his disbelief clear.

“Mhmm.” Y/n nodded even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

"And you lived?" Joker’s voice became incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“It was really good, actually! I swear!" Y/n chuckled softly, her mood lightening just hearing his voice, even if it was through a phone call. "I don't know what the hell they did, but it was, like...homemade soup or something.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Homemade soup?” Joker’s voice was tinged with amusement. “Jesus Christ, Bunny, what the hell’s going on over there?”

Y/n laughed again, feeling a little lighter as the conversation continued. She couldn’t believe how badly she’d missed him, how much she needed to hear his voice. Even with all the danger and chaos swirling around them, this small moment made everything feel somewhat normal again.

“What have you been doing, Bunny, hmm?” Joker’s voice dropped an accusatory tone, his words sharp yet tinged with concern. “Cause you ain’t been taking care of yourself.”

Y/n winced, guilt bubbling in her chest. “I know…I just haven’t been feeling great,” she muttered, her words barely escaping her lips.

“That’s no excuse to not look after yourself,” Joker snapped, though his voice softened quickly after, as if trying to hide the edge of frustration.

Y/n’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his words sinking in. “I understand…” She paused, looking down at the blanket wrapped around her, picking at the fibers.

“How is everything there?” she asked, wanting to divert the conversation away from her.

“How you’d expect a police station to be like,” Joker replied with a nonchalant chuckle, as if it was just another ordinary day. “No worries, Doll, I’m a frequent flyer here. They’ll ask me questions until they get tired, then send me right back off to Arkham.”

Y/n’s stomach twisted at the mention of Arkham. “What?” Her voice cracked, fear creeping into her chest.

“Don’t worry about it, Bunny,” Joker reassured, his tone light despite the underlying danger of his words. “I’ll be out before that happens.” He let out a chuckle, like it was all just a game, but it did little to ease the knot in Y/n’s stomach.

Her mind raced, trying to grasp the weight of what he was saying, but it didn’t add up. How could he sound so calm about all of this?

“What else is going on?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.

“Well, they keep asking about your car,” Joker said, the amusement slipping into his voice again.

“They just won’t believe me when I tell them the car’s not being used for some heist or whatever, but my dear Bunny’s.” He lingered on the words, a playful hint beneath his serious tone. “They think I’m some kind of Joker.”

Y/n chuckled nervously, though it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “Well, from their point of view, I get it,” she said, rubbing her temple in a half-hearted attempt to ease the headache that had been gnawing at her for days.

In the background of the call, Y/n could hear a voice growling from a distance. "Okay, that's enough phone time for you!"

"Ooh, looks like the coppers want me," Joker's voice rang through the phone, still light-hearted despite the gravity of the situation. "Take care of yourself, Bunny. Get Frankie to go buy you an ice cream, you deserve it."

Y/n’s heart sank a little, knowing the call was ending. “Okay, bye J…” she murmured softly, a twinge of sadness in her voice as she reluctantly let go of the connection.

“Mwah!” Joker’s voice perked up, the sound of a kiss sent through the phone before the line clicked dead.

Y/n stared at the phone in her hand for a moment, her chest heavy. She handed it back to Rocco without saying another word, her gaze wandering over to Frankie, who had been quietly watching her.

“Joker said you have to go get me an ice cream,” she said, almost sheepishly.

Frankie blinked, eyes wide in disbelief. “Come on!” he groaned, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m ain’t your personal ice cream runner, you know that?”

Y/n let out a soft chuckle despite herself, the weight of the situation lightening just a little bit. “He said I deserve it,” she insisted, giving him a small, playful look.

Rocco snorted in the background, clearly trying to hide his own amusement, but Frankie just shook his head, clearly not amused by the sudden ice cream errand he was apparently now obligated to run.

“Fine,” Frankie muttered, clearly out of options, “But only ‘cause boss said so.” He turned towards the door, grabbing his jacket. "Don't expect me to get you anything fancy."

Frankie stormed out of the apartment with a grumble, muttering about how he was too old for this kind of nonsense. Y/n couldn't help but smile a little, even though the sadness still lingered in the pit of her stomach.

Rocco leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he observed her. "You good?" he asked, his tone soft but concerned.

Y/n nodded slowly, though she wasn’t sure how convincing it was. "I will be," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

"Just…it’s hard, you know? Hearing his voice and then having to hang up." She paused, looking at the door where Frankie had just left. "I just feel…I don’t know. Like I’m just waiting for something to happen."

Rocco gave a nod, his expression unreadable. "I get it. But he’s not gonna let them keep him for long. You know how the Boss is." He seemed to try lighten the mood.

Y/n sighed, leaning back against the couch, wrapping her arms around herself. "I hope you're right," she murmured.

She closed her eyes, trying to push the thoughts of Joker being locked up, of everything that might go wrong, out of her mind.

After a few moments of silence, Rocco sighed and walked over to the window. "You need to rest. Frankie will be back soon, and when he gets back, you can get some real sleep. We’ve got you covered here."

Y/n didn’t argue. The exhaustion was creeping back in, and the warmth of the couch was almost too inviting. "Yeah," she whispered, sinking further into the cushions, "maybe just for a little while."

Wasn’t long till Frankie finally returned, looking both annoyed and tired, two containers of ice cream in his hands.

"Alright, alright," he muttered, placing the tubs on the coffee table with a huff. "Ice cream, just like the Boss ordered."

Y/n blinked, her exhaustion making her movements sluggish as she looked at the ice cream. "Thanks," she said quietly, trying to muster up a smile, though still tired. "I didn’t think you’d actually do it. But…why do you have two?"

“Like hell I’m gonna do all this work without reward,” Frankie said, lounging back while opening his tub of ice cream.

"Alright, you two. Eat your ice cream, then you get back to sleep." Rocco said, pointing at Y/n.

Y/n finally allowed herself a tiny laugh, something genuine this time, as she took a spoonful of the ice cream. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough.

-

It had been only a few hours since Y/n had finished the ice cream and drifted into sleep. The apartment was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that settles in before something disruptive happens. Suddenly, the front door burst open with a thunderous crash, slamming against the wall so hard that it rattled the cheap picture frames hanging nearby.

Y/n jolted awake, heart racing as she instinctively sat up on the couch. Disoriented and still half-asleep, she blinked at the doorway, trying to process what was happening.

“What the hell?” she muttered, her voice hoarse from exhaustion and lingering sickness.

Standing in the doorway, framed by the dim hallway light, was the one and only Joker. His grin stretched wide, his green hair slightly disheveled, and his eyes sparkling with chaotic energy. He threw his arms out, as if putting on a grand show for an audience of one.

“Ta-da!” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with that unnerving mix of charm and madness.

Y/n blinked again, certain she was either dreaming or hallucinating. “J?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.

Joker’s grin widened as he sauntered into the apartment. “In…the…flesh, Bunny,” he said, spreading his arms wide before giving a mock bow. “Miss me?”

Rocco and Frankie stumbled out of the kitchen, both looking like they’d seen a ghost. “Boss?!” Rocco exclaimed, his voice cracking. “How the hell did you–”

“Details, details!” Joker interrupted, waving a gloved hand dismissively. “Do I look like a man who lets a little thing like prison keep him down?”

He spun on his heel to face Y/n again, his expression softening just a fraction. “But you, Bunny…you’ve been naughty.”

Y/n stared at him, still trying to wrap her head around his sudden appearance. “How are you here…?” she started, but her words trailed off as he strode over to her, crouching down so they were at eye level.

“Now, now,” Joker said, tilting his head as he studied her sickly face. “We’ll get to that later. First, we need to talk about you. You look like you’ve been run over by a bus, Bunny. Frankie and Rocco been slacking on their uh…babysitting duties?” He shot the two men a glare over his shoulder, making them both stiffen.

“Hey, we’ve been taking care of her!” Frankie protested, gesturing toward the empty ice cream container on the coffee table. “She ate, she rested, we even made soup!”

“Soup.” Joker repeated, raising an eyebrow. “My Bunny eating your soup. Yeah, I heard about that little endeavour.” He turned back to Y/n, his gloved hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But still, you’ve got some explaining to do.”

Y/n felt her throat tighten as she looked into his intense gaze. “J, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker leaned in closer, his grin turning devilish. “Bunny, I told you before. I’m gonna come back for you.”

Y/n didn’t have time to process Joker’s words before he stood up, his energy buzzing like static in the room. He clapped his hands together, making both Rocco and Frankie flinch.

“Alright, boys, let’s have a chat,” he said, his tone shifting from playful to commanding. “What’s the state of this little hideout? Security tight? Supplies stocked? Or have you two been playing house while my Bunny’s been rotting away?”

Frankie looked at Rocco, who reluctantly spoke up. “We’ve done everything you asked, boss. She’s been fed, rested, and kept safe. No one’s sniffing around. We’re good.”

“Safe,” Joker repeated, his tone skeptical as he paced the room. “And yet my Bunny looks like she’s one sneeze away from passing out again. Safe doesn’t mean a damn thing if she’s not healthy.” He whipped around to face them, his eyes blazing. “So, what’s the plan, hmm? How are you two fixing this?”

“We’ve been doing what we can!” Frankie interjected. “Soup, meds, ice cream, what else are we supposed to do?”

Joker laughed, the sound sharp and grating. “Oh, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie…You don’t fix her with ice cream and soup. You fix her by making sure she never gets like this in the first place!”

He pointed at Y/n, who was watching the exchange in stunned silence. “You let her get sick, and that’s the problem.”

Y/n finally found her voice. “J, stop,” she said, her tone firm despite the exhaustion weighing her down. “They’ve been taking care of me. It’s not their fault.”

Joker’s gaze snapped back to her, his expression softening slightly. “Defending the little guys, huh, Bunny?” He crouched down again, his gloved hand resting lightly on her knee. “But you’ve gotta take care of yourself too. Can’t have my Bunny falling apart on me.”

“I’m trying,” Y/n said quietly, her cheeks flushing under his intense gaze.

Joker straightened up, his manic grin returning. “Good. Because I didn’t bust out of that hellhole just to find you looking like an inch away from death.”

He turned to Rocco and Frankie. “You two, make yourselves useful. Get this place cleaned up, get some decent food stocked, and find a real doctor. None of this DIY crap.”

“Doctor?” Frankie repeated, wide-eyed. “How are we supposed to–”

Joker silenced him with a glare. “Figure it out. Or do I need to babysit you, too?”

The two men exchanged a nervous glance before scurrying off, muttering plans under their breath.

Joker turned back to Y/n, his expression unreadable. “Now, Bunny, let’s get you feeling better. And then…” His grin widened, full of dangerous promises. “We’ve got work to do.”

The apartment settled into an odd rhythm. Rocco was scrubbing dishes in the kitchen, muttering complaints about how Frankie always left things half-cleaned. Frankie lounged on the couch, flipping through channels, just waiting to jump up if Joker barked an order. Y/n, wrapped in a blanket, sat on a chair by the window, her fever finally subsiding.

Joker was at the table, sketching out something on a crumpled napkin, his gloved fingers moving with quick precision as he muttered half-formed plans to himself.

It felt oddly normal, like a strange little family of sorts. The heater hummed faintly in the corner, its warmth mixing with the faint scent of leftover soup lingering in the air. Every now and then, Joker would glance up at Y/n, his gaze softening before snapping back to his frantic scribbling.

But outside, across the street, perched on the rooftop of a rundown building, someone was watching. The figure was cloaked in shadows, blending seamlessly with the dark sky. Through binoculars, the scene inside the apartment unfolded in perfect clarity.

The faint glow of the heater, the flickering light from the TV, and the exaggerated gestures of Joker as he spoke animatedly to himself, all of it was observed in meticulous silence.

The man adjusted his grip, the faint outline of a gloved hand catching a stray glint of moonlight. A gust of wind ruffled the long edges of their cape, but they remained unmoving, a silent sentinel above the chaos below.

Their focus lingered on Y/n, her eyes closed as she slept on the run down couch. Then it shifted to Joker, who leaned back in his chair, throwing a mocking laugh toward Frankie.

A voice crackled softly in his earpiece, almost inaudible against the city’s distant hum. “Are you going to move in, sir?”

The man’s jaw tightened. No response.

His gaze returned to Joker, whose grin widened as he shoved his napkin sketch across the table for Rocco to examine. The man’s grip on the binoculars tightened, his shadowed silhouette growing even stiller, waiting for the right moment to strike.

-

comments and reblogs are appreciated

A/N: Yep, very much on the shorter side, but got through it, lol.

I enjoyed writing this one, it was a little fun on to write for me, just Y/n getting treated by Joker's incompetent goons

Hopefully it will pick up in the next chapter (considering how I ended this one 👀)

Thank you for reading 💚

[storiesofsvu]

Good Little Pet

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, smut, kitten kink/very minor pet play, more mentions of it, strap sucking, daddy!emily, lots of dirty talk. Welp, we made it, the last halloween fic on November 8th. nbd lol. who knows if it's any good. Bare with me as I continue to try and get some one shots out for y'all!

To be completely honest, Emily was pretty exhausted, drained from a day of questioning sleazebag after sleazebag in an attempt to move forward on a case, the only saving grace was that it was local to D.C, no jets, no hotels and most importantly, she could come home to you at the end of the day. She’d already missed dinner, the sun gone from the sky when she finally trudged out to the parking lot, the car springing to life so the clock could tell her it was nearing ten thirty p.m. already. Plugging her dead phone in she let out a sigh and shifted the car into drive, by the time she hit the freeway her phone began to buzz with a couple of texts from you that she waited until she was at a standstill to check.

‘Guessing you’re trapped at work, I’m heading out around seven. Dinner’s in the fridge, lmk if you’re gonna swing by the party, you know the address.’  With a little smiley face and heart at the end. The next one was time stamped two hours later.

‘Ngl, I’m a little drunk. This Halloween punch is no joke. Would it be wildly inappropriate to say I want you to rail me into next week? God I hope you’re not on the jet rn galivanting off across the country because my hands just will not cut it.’

Emily barked out a laugh, shaking her head at your brashness before she swiftly typed out a reply, sly smile still on her cheeks.

‘It would only be wildly inappropriate if you weren’t my girlfriend. I’m on my way now, save me a drink.’

She signed it with a kiss and plugged the address into her GPS, taking note of the different exit she was going to have to take.

*

To be completely honest, you didn’t go out much, whether that was to the bar or to house parties, you especially felt like you’d outgrown the latter. You were much more focused on work and spending what free time you did have with your girlfriend considering she was out of town more often than not. So tonight was a special night where you were finally letting loose a little, indulging in punch, drinking games and catching up with friends you hadn’t seen in a while. The party was a mix of people, some you’d worked with in the past, their partners, friends, new coworkers, a full house including a handful of people you didn’t know.

You’d been catching up with April when one of those people you didn’t know sauntered up and introduced himself as Travis, his hand lingering in yours a little too long for comfort had you been sober. His intro line was funny enough to make you laugh and honestly he was pretty cute, if you were single and swung that way you wouldn’t have any complaints. He conveniently reached around you to grab a fresh beer out of the cooler, passing it off to his other hand so the first one could remain leaning on the counter, dangerously close to your body. You complimented his costume, earning a wide grin from him as he chuckled softly, paying both of you a compliment back before the three of you fell into an incredibly easy and comfortable conversation.

Emily managed to slip into the house unnoticed, though she wasn’t surprised, things were more than in full swing, people everywhere, lights low and music going. Crossing through the main living room there was a group of people half watching horror movies while shouting when to drink to each other while they talked over the rest of it. She caught eyes with a few people she recognized, giving them waves from across the room as she made her way through the space to the doorway of the kitchen where she heard you before she saw you. Your laugh always made her heart flutter, whether she was the one pulling them from you or not, her lips twitching up into a grin as her eyes searched through the darkened room.

Her eyes widened briefly when she saw you, dressed in a tight, sparkly black bodysuit with matching boy shorts over top, just enough of your chest peeking out over the top of the neckline. The tip of your nose was painted pink, whiskers drawn across your bright cheeks, a headband with cat ears on the top of your head and a fluffy tail pinned to the back of your shorts. She knew you hadn’t been planning anything extensive for your costume, not being one for dressing up but this was just the perfect amount to look good yet also drive her wild. As her gaze dragged up your body her head tilted, eyes narrowing at a hand resting on your hip that wasn’t yours, rather it was connected to the arm wrapped around your waist. The man beside you was laughing at something you said, leaning in to untangle a curl of your hair that had gotten wrapped around one of the cat ears.

She could tell that he wasn’t making you uncomfortable, the smile on your cheeks genuine and not just to appease him but that didn’t help the green eyed monster that was beginning to burn inside her gut. She wasn’t sure if it was an old friend or a stranger who was getting a little too cozy, but she certainly didn’t want him to stick around much longer. Slipping through the crowd she was finally able to approach you, a smirk breaking out on her lips when you spotted her, practically jumping away from the counter and your new friend.

“Baby!” You greeted, squeezing tightly at her hand as you popped toward her to steal a quick kiss.

“Hi babe.” She murmured back, smile on her cheeks before she was interrupted.

“Aw c’mon, you’re not even dressed up.” Travis interjected.

“Yeah?” Her hand found her hip, brushing back the front of her blazer revealing her Glock in the process.

“So what’re you supposed to be?” He asked again, smarmy grin on his cheeks.

“An FBI agent who’s pissed you’ve got your hands all over her girlfriend.” She replied with a stern gaze and he backed up with a laugh.

“You could at least let me hold your gun.”

“It’s not a prop.” Emily glared and he was across the kitchen without a second word, April disappearing to leave the two of you alone for a couple of minutes.

“He was harmless.” You giggled, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“I know.” She huffed a laugh, “doesn’t make intimidating him any less fun.”

“You’re ruthless.”

“And you make one hell of a seductive cat.”

“Yeah?” You asked with a grin, “that mean I get to sit on your lap?”

“You can do a lot more than sit on my lap.” She murmured; her fingers splayed across your jaw to tilt your head toward her as her thumb trailed down your neck. She’d been intending to pull you into a kiss but when her thumb hit leather her eyes directed further south, widening at the black choker around your neck. It only took a second for her to realize it wasn’t a necklace, but rather a collar, complete with a gemstone at the front of it, her head tilted in confusion. “That’s not your birthstone.”

“No.” You chuckled, “it’s yours. All kitties have to know who they belong to, don’t they?”

“Well you…” her thumb moved back up, rubbing at your jaw, “seem to have forgotten that part.” She leant down, leaving a kiss on the side of your neck, her next words husked into your ear, “I bet you think you’re real cute letting him put his hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.” Her teeth nipped at your earlobe as your breath caught in your throat, a tingle shooting through your entire body, “now kitten…who do you belong to?”

Your eyes widened, pulse quickening at the use of the new pet name, knowing no doubt it was brought on by the risqué costume you’d chosen for the night, completely unaware it was going to awaken something like this in Emily.

“You, daddy.” You whispered and she smiled, a hungry look in her eye as she leant in to peck you.

“Good girl.” Her hand slunk down your arm, fingers lacing with yours, “now, you promised you’d save me a drink.”

“Mmhmm…” Nodding, you took a breath to try and calm yourself before leading her to the drink table.

Emily’s hand didn’t leave your body for the rest of the night, lingering in the small of your back, resting across your shoulders, winding tightly around your waist whenever anyone got a little too friendly. Her lips would press into your neck, shoulder, cheek, temple, anywhere acceptable for PDA in a crowd like this, staying glued to your side to make sure it was known you were hers. At one point you leant over a table, tossing the beer pong ball back to someone and she caught Travis’ eyes looking directly down your shirt, lips forming a hungry grin that made her stomach churn. She grabbed your waist, swiftly turning you to her and catching you in a deep kiss, smiling at the way your arms instantly wound around her shoulders.

“It’s time to go.” She murmured and you let out a small giggle, whispering back.

“Whatever you say daddy.”

*

Emily’s tongue was down your throat, her hands pawing at your ass as she backed you down the hallway into the bedroom, nearly tripping over her own feet as she did. You let out a moan into the kiss, your hips rutting against hers as your arms wrapped tighter around her shoulders. Her teeth sank into your lower lip, pulling a groan from you as she reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, a fire in her eyes as she grinned at you.

“Can’t believe you dressed up like this just for me.” She said and you giggled.

“Well.. if it was just for you… it would’ve been sluttier.”

“How so?” She asked, a brow raised.

“No shorts, for starters.” Your fingers slipped into the waist band, shoving them down your legs leaving you in just the body suit, “probably more cleavage.” You tugged the fabric down further, exposing more of your chest and Emily chuckled.

“But now you’ve lost your tail, kitten.” Her finger curled under your chin, tilting your head to the side, nipping at you earlobe, “although we could get you a plug that has one.” Her lips brushed against your skin, “would you like that?”

“Mmhm…” You giggled, a gleam in your eyes as you looked up at her, “I didn’t expect you to be so into this?”

“What can I say?” Her fingers slipped between the collar and your neck, “I like it when everyone knows you belong to me.” Your breath hitched as she tugged on the leather, pulling you closer to her, a familiar need beginning to pulse between your legs, “now why don’t you show daddy what gorgeous lingerie you have on under this and get down on your knees like a good little pet?”

You nodded eagerly, quickly slipping the bodysuit off your body, letting it drop to the floor while Emily padded through the room, stripping her own clothing as she went. Her eyes stayed on you, a small smile on her lips as she admired your lingerie, lacy and black to fit the theme, hugging your curves perfectly.  

“That looks like my new favourite.” She purred, opening the nightstand drawer to pull out the strap, “how about you get rid of the bra, let me see those gorgeous tits, kitten.”

While you were ridding yourself of accessories, she was adding to her own, a smirk on her lips as she approached you, cock heavy between her legs. Her fingers curled around your cheek, turning your face up to her as her eyes slipped down to admire your half naked frame.

“Just so beautiful.” She winked, the tip of her finger tapping the tip of your nose, “now why don’t you get daddy’s cock nice and wet so I can fuck you so good you forget your own name, hmm?”

“Yes daddy.” The words were out of your mouth before you could even think, sitting up on your knees to brace yourself on her thighs while your lips eagerly wrapped around the tip of the toy.

You bobbed down it, sinking it into the back of your throat in the way Emily absolutely loved, her hips rocking it an inch deeper as she let out a soft groan. Her hand collected your hair, gently wrapping it around her fist while you pulled off her cock, tongue sticking out of your mouth and she chuckled, using her free hand to hit the tip of her dick on your tongue.

“Good girl.”

At the praise you smiled up at her, licking a broad strip up the toy before sucking it back into your mouth, inching down it once again. Emily’s hand tightened in your hair, pushing you down further and setting a faster pace as she continued to fuck into your mouth. You could feel drool pooling in the corners of your mouth and a similar wetness collecting in your panties, rubbing your thighs together in an attempt for some relief. Your mouth sunk down to the base of the toy, pulling a gasp from Emily when the movement nudged it right against her clit. Pushing her cock deeper into your throat you slowly shook your head, shifting it back and fourth and she groaned softly, her hand tugging you off the toy by your hair.

“Are you really that needy tonight kitten?” She asked, a fire behind her eyes and you nodded, chest heaving as you panted for breath.

“Please daddy.”

“Well then get on the bed, hands and knees.” She tugged on your hair, letting it fall from her hands as you stood, watching hungrily as you presented yourself for her. “Always such a good pet, aren’t you.” You felt the bed dip behind you as she climbed onto it, her hands sliding up the back of your thighs, squeezing at the globe of your ass before a hand spanked you and you let out a gasp, feeling the tingle shift from where she’d hit you spark through your body before settling in your pussy. Emily let out a small chuckle, her hands toying with your panties, “yes… I do think you’d look rather spectacular with a tail plugging that pretty ass.” She spanked you again, “for next time I guess.”

“Please…” You whined, pressing your hips back toward her, letting out a moan as her thumb brushed over your tight hole, pressing ever so lightly.

“Don’t worry kitten, daddy will take care of you.”

Her fingers slipped into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs and tossing them aside before she chuckled darkly, her eyes settling on the glistening between your legs. There was no doubt you’d been waiting for this all evening and were absolutely aching for her to fill you up, walls fluttering around nothing as you let out a little whimper. Her hands slid up the backs of your thighs once again, pulling your pussy lips apart so she could admire you, watching the way the soft light made your juices practically sparkle. You dropped down onto your elbows, back arching and she hummed in appreciation as the angle of her view changed to one where she could see more of you, her fingers coming up to toy with your cunt.

“My pretty girl.” She purred, her slicked fingers rubbing up your back before they curled under your collar, “shame we don’t have a leash for you. I know how much you like to be choked.”

“Oh god…”  you moaned, your eyes practically rolling back into your head as she tugged at the leather, just imagining how much harder she could be pulling with the extra accessory.

“We’ll make a trip to the toy store this weekend.” Her hand moved to swat at your ass again, “get my pretty kitty whatever she wants.”

You let out a loud gasp when her body rocked forward, cock plunging into you until her hips were crashing into yours, your body shooting forward on the bed.

“Fuck!”

“You can take it.” She groaned, pulling her hips back to admire her cock slicked with your juices before it plunged back into your heat. “This’ll teach you, won’t it?” She set a fast and deep pace, each thrust of her hips driving you forward on the bed, the head of her cock brushing your g-spot, pulling louder and longer moans from you. “No more flirting with silly boys at parties.”

“N-no.” You moaned out, pussy clenching down around her as you began to claw at the bedspread, pleasure surging through your body, your skin already on fire as she continued to fuck you with ease.

“And who does my sweet kitten belong to?” She asked, giving a particularly hard thrust that drove you into the mattress.

“You daddy.”

“That’s my good pet.” Continuing to fuck deeper into you she leant over your body, leaving a handful of kisses across you bare skin. Your body shivered with each touch of her lips, thighs shaking as her hand found its way between them, gently pinching your clit before rubbing it in circles. “I know you’re close princess, you’ve been waiting too long for this. So good for daddy…”

“Fu-uck. Oh fuck!” Your eyes scrunched shut as you felt the coil getting tighter before, “harder!”

Your request was all Emily needed before her hips crashed into yours and you collapsed onto the bed, letting her fuck you into the mattress and her fingers rubbed harder at your throbbing nub. Only a minute later and the dam burst, cries of pleasure escaping your lips to bounce off the bedroom walls, the only accompanying sounds Emily’s pants and sopping sounds from your cunt as you reached your orgasm.

Emily’s thrusts slowed as your body shook beneath her, her hand disappearing from your clit, thumbs rubbing soft circles into your hips as she fucked you through your orgasm.

“That’s my good girl.” She cooed, “always so pretty for me when she comes.”

You let out a whimper in acknowledgement, barely nodding your head and she chuckled, giving you one last hard thrust that you gasped at before she gently pulled out, watching your juices dribble onto the bedspread. She tossed the strap to the side to be dealt with later, crawling over you as her hands soothed across your skin, lips leaving feather light kisses up your spine until she was fully over you, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple that you practically purred at while she untangled the cat ear headband from your hair, gently placing it on the nightstand. She shoved the covers down, rolling onto her back and tucking you into her side as you started to catch your breath, fingers tracing patterns on your bare skin as she pulled the covers back up over the two of you.

Once your breathing was evened out you let out a soft sigh and she smiled, tilting your head up to kiss your lips before her fingers traced the pattern of the leather on your neck, the stone catching in the light.

“We are actually gonna go to the store, right?” You asked with a yawn burrowing deeper into her embrace and she laughed.

“I said, I’ll get you whatever you want kitten.”

“Good.” You grinned, eyes opening to look up at her, “not gonna lie, if I knew this was gonna awaken something in you I wouldn’t have waited until Halloween.”

Emily rolled her eyes, swatting at your ass through the blanket as you laughed, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. Her fingers traced the choker, pinching at the gem, “you like wearing this?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded.

“Should get you something more dainty for everyday wear.”

“I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” She pinched at your chin, “maybe that way you won’t forget whose pet you are again.”

“Definitely not.”

___________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @scorpsik @prentiss-theorem e @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @kalixxh @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @originalbrunettecharacter @elz-artzzz @hopedoesntknow @dj-bynum3718 @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex

[livingtobethevillain]

Hello everyone! As some of you know I made this post a couple days ago. And surprise surprise I decided to actually write it!!

Introducing "Mosaic Madness" by CainsFandomChaos on Ao3

Link here

Enjoy!

JJ hums to himself while seated upon the cafe bar stool. It was purposefully slid up as high as possible so his legs could kick back and forth under him. His knees strain with the force of his kicks but he pays it no mind. He sways and mutters to himself and fiddles with the loaded gun in his left hand, his sickeningly sweet frozen coffee in the other. JJ takes a loud sip and giggles at how the barista behind the counter flinches.

Suddenly the cafe door is kicked open, the dainty bell all but being ripped out of the doorframe and the wall having a hole punched into it by the door handle. JJ perks up with a grin that split his entire face open.

“Bear!” JJ tosses the drink somewhere behind him, ignoring the tell-tale sound of coffee slapping against the floor and the wounded sound coming from the underpaid worker still frozen behind the counter.

The boy in the door frame grins right back at JJ and spreads his arms just in time for JJ to throw himself into him.

“JJ, How’re you doing, love?” Bernard said, his voice soft and if you listened closely you could hear what sounded like static and echoing applause woven in between every word.

“I’m doin’ great Angel!” JJ squeezed Bernard, planting a warm kiss on his cheek.

“Was just finishing off some coffee when you made your entrance.” JJ laughed.

Bernard sighed exaggeratedly if only to hear JJ laugh some more at his dramatics. “Baby, I’ve told you that you need to cut back on caffeine. At this point I think shooting heroin into your veins would be healthier.”

“Aw, we can do that later, I promise.” JJ pulled away from Bernard's embrace briefly with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He was soon pulled back into Bernard's crushing embrace.

“I pull away first.” Bernard stated calmly, covering JJ’s body like a dragon would hover over his hoard.

JJ hummed unbothered, he knew better than anyone that after the cult Bernard needed as much painless touch as possible.

“Right, sorry about that Bear! Y’know my memory is-” he wiggles the gun still in his hand. “Shot.” JJ laughs loudly before whipping his head to the side. The barista freezes.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a bit jumpy?” The Barista shakes his head slowly.

“I mean you’re acting like I’ve pointed a gun at you!” JJ pouts.

“You have pointed a gun at them, darling.” Bernard says fondly with a final borderline suffocating squeeze to JJ’s torso. He pulls away and leans against the counter with an adoring expression.

JJ groans, within the span of a second the gun disappears into one of his many pockets. He wraps his arm around Bernards and Bernard lets him drag him out the door.

“Let me correct myself then, they're acting like I’ve shot them. And I haven't! I mean I almost did, cause it’s funny seeing just how much red can squirt out of a singular gunshot wound–did you know that the average adult has a bit more than a gallon of red in their body?--but then they offered me a frappe and I couldn't kill them then! That just wouldn’t make sense.” JJ rambles, wildly gesturing with his hands.

Bernard nods in agreement. “Plus that’s not the kind of story the author is going for. All things considered this story is meant to be pretty cute.” Bernard offers helpfully.

JJ laughs. “Oh I love when you break the fourth wall,” he coos, Bernard grins with what might seem like too many teeth to anyone else, but to JJ, Bernard was the most beautiful when his eyes were unhinged and seeing what seemed to be beyond their universe. Bernard was always so much fun, but even more so when the weight of the dark circles under his eyes seemed to lighten with Bernard's manic glee.

JJ abruptly straightens at the sound of gunshots close by. Bernard smiles lazily.

“What do you say about continuing this lovely date from inside a firefight?” Bernard asks teasingly.

“Well that sounds just fantastic!” JJ says, now scooping up Bernard's hand into a firm grip and leading them towards the violence at a brisk pace.

The couple were practically vibrating with excitement. Just before entering a decrepit building Bernard reaches into a nearby alley and yanks loose a baseball bat from seemingly nowhere. He smacks it into the palm of his hand with a solid sound and with one last shared grin, JJ and Bernard leap into the fight. JJ and Bernard could see various Bats flying around but they didn’t seem to notice them in the chaos and JJ and Bernard easily took advantage of that fact.

When JJ fought the various goons running around like headless chickens, he was vicious. There was no rhyme or reason to what he did, there was no pattern to memorize or easy way to combat it. Occasionally some nameless face would get a hit in that surely should have knocked him down, but he just bounced back up with a cackle. Then between one blink and the next he whipped out his pistol and shot them point blank, cleanly through the space between their eyes.

Then there was Bernard, he weaved between the mob like water over rocks. He twisted and bent in unnatural ways and every drop of blood that dripped onto his skin seemed to add to the force behind his hits. In contrast to JJ’s unnatural face splitting grin, Bernard wore a bitten off, close mouthed smirk that screamed danger and madness. Where JJ was staggeringly human in the way he fought, Bernard was otherworldly.

Before long the fight had ended, the battlefield divided into two parts. One side held dead men and women riddled with bullet holes and busted open skulls. On the other were the lucky bastards that got off with zip tied wrists and maybe a couple broken ribs. The Bats of course were now finally aware of the couple's presence. JJ and Bernard being wrapped around each other laughing when they carefully approached.

JJ spotted Batman and abruptly looked as though he had bitten into a particularly sour lemon.

“Tim,” Batman said uncharacteristically gentle.

JJ scowled. “Wrong.” He said forcefully.

Batman opens his mouth to respond, looking pained, but JJ slapped his hands over his ears and gives a blood curdling screech. Batman winces but Bernard barely reacts.

“I don’t understand why you keep doing that.” Bernard said with an unimpressed eyebrow raise. “You know all it accomplishes is making him upset.” he glares.

“Y’know if you weren’t so important to the narrative, you’d be dead by now. You should count yourself lucky that you're DC’s specialist boy.”

Batman looked confused but JJ looked at Bernard with heart eyes, having already forgotten his previous upset.

“I love you.” JJ breathed dreamily.

“I love you too sweetheart.” Bernard says, hauling JJ into his arms and glaring at Batman over his head before striding out of the building.

And if he purposefully crushed some skulls under his foot just to make Batman squirm, that was his business.

—————

JJ cackles as he and Bernard tumble through his window in a tangled mess of limbs. They stayed splayed across the carpet wrapped around each other and talking in hushed tones nose to nose. Then JJ’s door creaked open and there was a woman in the doorway.

“JJ, now where have you been puddin’? Me and Ivy been waiting for forever!” Harley huffs playfully, leaning against the doorframe.

Bernard lets JJ scramble to his feet and tackle Harley around the waist, grinning up at her.

“Sorry mama! Me and Bear were out on a date! Had lotsa fun and lost track’a time!” He chirps.

Bernard glided silently across the floor and loomed behind JJ awkwardly. Harley gave a restricted wave from where JJ had pinned her arms in his hug.

“Bernard, it’s always nice to see ya. How ya doin’ kiddo?” Harley tilts her head, eyes searching.

“I’m alright, Mrs. Quinn. Same old same old. I'm better now that me and JJ are together again.” Bernard says, giving a small but genuine smile.

Harley softened subtly.“Yeah well, I know JJ is just as happy. I know he was devastated when you were held at the police station for the week.”

“I am! I’m super happy!” JJ twists and jumps into Bernard's lanky arms, who surprisingly holds him up just fine.

“You’re so strong.” JJ swoons, Bernard rolls his eyes but notably holds JJ closer.

Harley huffs, “Alright sugar, me and Ivy are gonna be in the livin’ room. Y’all don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” she says teasingly.

“That doesn’t disqualify a whole lot, mama.” JJ grins.

“Exactly.” Harley says, playfully ruffling his hair. “Don’t die and don’t get caught, m’kay puddin’?”

JJ nods enthusiastically and Bernard follows suit though with much less energy. Harley chooses that moment to duck out of the room, the door closing behind her with a creak and a click. Bernard then climbs over the scattered chaos of JJ’s bedroom floor and with a twist he gently dumps JJ–who had climbed onto his back at some point–onto the bed.

JJ quickly burritos himself into a knitted monstrosity that he had made at the height of a random hyperfixation. Bernard crawls in after him and curls around him instinctively like he was a protective barrier against the world. JJ leans into Bernard, greedily soaking in the affection and Bernard returns the favor readily.

What they had was unconventional but it was beautiful and precious to them. The shattered pieces that had once made them individuals had melted together into a one of a kind mosaic. And although outsiders had their unwanted concerns–although they considered the couple mad–neither of them had any desire to live separately ever again.

----

@'s!!!

@alor-thes

@sapirafil

@aceauthorcatqueen

@aryaaasee

@captaingeapea

@littlepikmins

@puppiesandnightlock

Thank you so much for reading!

[gravity-between-us]

Gravity Between Us

Chapter 18: Command Me, Colonel.

Summary: Caleb and I have known each other for as long as I can remember. We were once childhood friends, our bond as natural as the stars in the sky. But now, everything has changed. What used to feel like a safe, familiar orbit between us now pulses with unspoken desire.

Our friendship is no longer enough to keep the tension at bay, and the distance between us feels unbearable. Secrets, lies, and unhealed wounds stand in our way. I don’t know if we can survive this new gravity pulling us together... but I can’t keep pretending I don’t want to try.

Pairing: Female! MC [Named] x Caleb

Spoilers: Spoilers for Caleb's Myth's, as well as memories. Read at your own risk for these. Lore spoilers.

WARNINGS:

Unlikely to be completely canon. The other love interests will not be likely to appear in this fic.

MC is named. MC is socially awkward. MC can be depressed at times.

Very? Slow Burn.

Very explicit smut (Chapter 12 onward): PiV/oral (male and female receiving)/anal sex. Fingering. First time. Pet names (angel, babe, baby, pip-squeak). Kinks: Praise, breeding, creampie, light dom/sub. Rough. Some consensual degradation talk (MC is into it). Probably many, many more that I am forgetting to name. If you see one that should be listed that isn't, feel free to let me know. (MC is a repressed deviant, and so is Caleb.)

Awkward blend of darker moments, angst, fluff, and humour.

Drinking. Questionable life decisions. MC spirals.

Protective Caleb. Both MC and Caleb are a little obsessive and overly protective of each other, which could be considered an unhealthy relationship.

We will revisit memory scenes, but they will be different from the memories in-game.

As proofread as I can get it, but not beta read, so probably some mistakes.

Limited plot - most focus is just on their relationship and interactions.

More warnings could be applied, but as a general rule of thumb, please read at your own risk and do not continue if you find the content triggering.

To nobody’s surprise, my next mission is in Skyhaven, with the Farspace Fleet. The moment the assignment pinged on my Hunters watch, I knew something was off. Hunters usually get to pick their missions, but this one came directly from Command with a shiny little red flag waving on it that screamed: You don’t get to say no.

Now, here I am, sitting in on a debriefing I wasn’t invited to, for a mission I know nothing about, surrounded by people who are all very clearly trying to figure out why I am here.

No one’s explained what I’m supposed to be doing, and I am way too afraid to ask because every time I so much as breathe, half the room whips around like I just stood up, pulled out a baby seal, and announced I’m about to club it for sport.

A predicament, to be sure. Historically, nothing good happens when people stare at me.

Best-case scenario, I make a weird joke nobody laughs at. Worst-case, I black out from social anxiety and wake up three minutes later mid-monologue about the socio-economic implications of alien hotdogs.

I try to pretend I’m casual about it—elbow on the table, chin in my hand, expression neutral—but my social battery is shrivelling like a sun-blasted raisin, and I’m 97% sure I’ve been fake-nodding for so long I’ve lost all control of my neck.

At this point, I am a deeply awkward sentient bobblehead.

Aurelia Voss is the worst offender. She’s glaring at me like I keyed her starcruiser and insulted her mother in the same breath. Her eyes keep ping-ponging between me and Caleb like she’s trying to solve the quantum equation of “Why her and not me?” and every answer keeps punching her directly in the self-esteem.

On the bright side, and I do mean, solar-flare levels of blinding bright, I have a front-row seat to Colonel Caleb in peak “I command fleets and bench-press enemy ships before breakfast” mode.

It’s not a bright side for my pants (tragically deceased), my dignity (missing in action), or this Fleet chair that was clearly made by sadists who think comfort is a myth.

He says things like, “Run a secondary diagnostic on Deck Two,” and my brain starts screaming, “Tie ME to Deck Two, sir.” Someone please stop this man before I commit a crime of passion against the nearest wall. Colonel Caleb is like a spaceborne wet dream in uniform, and I do not have the emotional maturity to be normal about it.

Aurelia is the first to crack. She whips her hair over her shoulder like she’s doing a shampoo commercial in zero gravity and fixes Caleb with a saccharine smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Colonel,” she intones, her voice like sugar left out in the sun too long, “why is she here?”

Ah. There it is. The venom. The barely veiled “I will burn your little Hunter to the ground and salt the ashes” tone.

Caleb doesn’t blink. “She’s been assigned to this mission.”

Aurelia’s brows go up. “But… she’s not Fleet.”

“She does not need to be,” he replies coolly. Then—oh god, then—he drops his voice into that deep, no-nonsense register that could bend steel beams and ruin lives. “And you do not have the clearance to question it, Lieutenant.”

Oh. Oh. I am going to pass out. My ovaries are doing synchronized swimming. My brain has checked out and left a sign that says ‘Closed for maintenance due to critical Caleb-induced flooding.’

The stupidest, smuggest smile crawls across my face like it’s escaping containment. I try to fight it, but I end up looking like a cat that just knocked a priceless heirloom off a shelf and watched it shatter in slow motion.

Aurelia turns back to me, a scowl pulling her brows low and her eyes narrowed. “Just so we’re clear,” she informs me in a tone that suggests she wants to fight me in the parking bay, “Fleet information is confidential. We don’t need some off-grid Hunter running her mouth to her little vigilante friends.”

I blink. Twice. Open my mouth. Close it. Do that thing where you smile even though your soul is briefly trying to escape your body through your eye sockets. I’m not sure if I should say, Excuse me? Are you okay? Or full-send a juice box at her face and call it a day.

Caleb cuts in like a vibroblade through tension. “That’s enough, Lieutenant.”

The whole table goes still.

Aurelia looks like she just swallowed a lemon, and I am physically restraining myself from crawling across the polished table, planting myself in Caleb’s lap, and asking him in front of everyone to say ‘that’s enough, Lieutenant’ again, but slower, and with maybe a little breath on my neck.

My thighs do a very quiet, very shameful clench. He could call me insubordinate, and I’d say thank you. He could court-martial me, and I’d offer to buy dinner first. Honestly, if he so much as breathed the word “punishment,” I would dissolve into a puddle of need on the floor, wailing, “Do it, you beautiful bastard.”

Aurelia, however, does not seem to appreciate the erotic power trip I am having in real time. Her glare has evolved into a death ray. I sink a little lower in my chair, chew on the inside of my cheek, and wonder just how many HR violations I’m mentally racking up per minute.

Get it together. I’m a trained Hunter. A lethal weapon. I’ve faced death, survived ambushes, and several mandatory sensitivity trainings. I am not about to sit here, ogle my boyfriend’s impossibly broad, sin-forged chest, and daydream about being railed into orbit on this conference table while the Fleet’s finest look on in horror.

…But if I did, scientifically speaking, this table is absolutely the right height. In fact, it would be a public disservice not to find out if it could survive a full-scale orbital strike, powered entirely by Caleb rearranging my spinal column.

Focus!

I lock my eyes on the mission display. The projection stabilizes into a map of a port city on the edge of the Vega District, known for three things: black market smugglers, overpriced neon cocktails, and being the galactic equivalent of a seedy nightclub held together by chewing gum and narcotics.

Caleb gestures to the map with the kind of calm authority that makes my stomach do inappropriate things. “Two nights ago, there was an explosion at one of our facilities. Classified assets were stolen before the self-destruct sequence was initiated. Whoever did it knew the protocols and how to avoid Fleet countermeasures.”

He taps a red blinking icon. “We believe the stolen cargo has made its way to the black market. It’s too dangerous to allow it to be sold. We need to retrieve it.”

I blink slowly, trying to process the words while my brain runs a separate, much louder internal monologue: Wow, look at you. Just spitting out danger reports like they’re dirty talk.

Caleb continues, blissfully unaware of the literal pornographic novella I’m mentally drafting about his tactical planning skills. “We’ve identified three potential drop points within the city. Your task—” he glances at me, and I forget how breathing works for a moment “—is infiltration.”

I make a little half gasp, half moan. “Infiltration,” I repeat quickly, nodding with entirely too much enthusiasm. “Yes. Good. Love that. Big fan of… infiltrating.”

“We need someone who can move through Skyhaven’s seedier levels without drawing attention,” he explains. “You’ve worked the underbelly before, Inara. You know how it operates. And frankly, the less people know this is a Fleet mission, the better.”

Oh great. A compliment. Just go ahead and carve my tombstone now. Here Lies Inara: Died Doing What She Loved. Getting Mentally Railgunned by a Mission Briefing.

He starts listing intel drop times, contact names, and details about surveillance patterns, but I’m only catching about 60% of it because the other 40% of my brain is just screaming YES, COLONEL on loop.

By the time the briefing winds down, I’m lightly sweating, definitely flushed, and sitting in a puddle of inappropriate workplace feelings. Caleb straightens like he’s about to wage war and not just hand me a list of names.

“Hunter Inara,” he barks, sharp and authoritarian, his tone snapping across the table like a shot. “With me. I’ll provide the intel personally: contacts, locations, infiltration points. You can ask any questions you have en route.”

I rise from my chair like a cursed woman—haunted, twitchy, absolutely vibrating with repressed lust—and follow behind him as he stalks out of the meeting room. Every hallway we pass is a minefield of dignity destruction. Officers stiffen to attention the second he enters their eyeline. 

“Colonel,” they bark, saluting with brutal formality.

Caleb doesn’t so much as blink. Eyes forward. Back straight. Shoulders squared. It’s like walking behind a monolith carved from command. I am white-knuckling my sanity and holding back an unholy wail of, “Take me behind this potted plant, Colonel!”

I try walking slower. I try breathing through my nose. I try not imagining how his gloves would feel wrapped around my throat while he orders me to report every detail of my infiltration with a hand between my—

“Keep up, Inara.”

I take a shuddering breath and obey, nearly speed-walking to stay close behind him. Apparently my inner kink is militarized efficiency. By the time we reach the double doors of his office, I’m one sharp command away from just throwing myself at him and letting the consequences sort themselves out later. The doors slide open, and I stumble in after him like a heat-seeking missile.

The room is cold and gorgeous in that high-ranking-military way: minimalist walls, holographic display hovering mid-air over his desk, glass shelves lined with tactical books and awards. He walks in like he owns the vacuum of space itself, heading for the console beside his desk. I, meanwhile, am trying not to claw at my own skin.

The windows—oh, God, the windows. They span the entire left wall, floor to ceiling, with a panoramic view of the landing pad below. There’s a fleet ship docking right now, lights flashing, people running.

Sweet mother of galaxies, I want him to fuck me against that glass. I want the fog of our breath and the sweat of our sins smeared across the view of a civilization he swore to protect. I want the imprint of my ass cheeks on his windows while two star cruisers touch down.

“Pip-squeak?”

I jolt, blinking. “What?”

He’s turned to face me now, one brow arched, the faintest pull of amusement at the corner of his mouth. “Your eyes were doin’ that thing.”

“What thing?”

“The I’m imagining you rearranging my insides in broad daylight thing.”

“Oh,” I nod, with the gravitas of a person who has never known shame. “Yeah. That tracks.”

He’s still somehow the Colonel and yet softening around the edges just enough to let the real him peek through. Maybe it’s the whiplash, or the fact that I can still hear his commanding voice in my spine, or maybe it’s just that my body has officially decided it can no longer withstand this level of discipline, but I snap.

I cross the space between us in two furious, horny strides, slam him against the wall with a satisfying thud, and kiss him.

He makes a low, startled noise in his throat, and then his hands are on me, fists gripping the back of my jacket. I kiss him like war. Like worship. Like I’m trying to get the air back into my lungs that he keeps stealing just by standing near me in a goddamn uniform.

“Inara—” he growls, breaking the kiss just enough to try and speak, but I’m already kissing down his jaw, scraping my teeth along the tendon in his neck, and he makes a sound that is going to haunt me in the best way.

“Windows,” he grits, fumbling behind him toward the wall console with one hand while the other grips my hip.

“What about them?” I mutter into his skin, already working at the fastenings of his uniform.

“They’re not tinted—shit—someone could see—”

“I hope they do,” I hiss, kissing down his collarbone as he finally smacks the control pad. 

The windows dim with a soft whir, going opaque like we’re in a VIP section of hell.

“This is a debriefing. Not a—fuck—”

“Yeah? Then debrief me, Colonel,” I breathe against his mouth, “because I’m absolutely not wearing any panties.”

He curses and kisses me like that’s the final straw, and he’s done pretending we’re anything less than two people trying to set each other on fire. “Do you have any idea,” he mutters against my throat, “what you do to me?”

“Yes,” I gasp, clawing at the fastenings on his belt like I’m trying to dismantle the Fleet itself. “And I want to do more of it.”

His mouth is on mine, biting, hungry, and uncoordinated in that way that feels desperate. Like he’s trying to taste everything he’s missed and everything he’s never been allowed to want at once. I’ve got his uniform half-undone, and he’s still trying to pretend he’s in control, still trying to maintain some kind of order even as I drag him down into the chaos with me.

Poor, delusional man.

Shoving a mess of datapads and half-written reports that go scattering like they’re ashamed to be here, he lifts me with one hand and sits me on the edge of the desk like I’m the only mission left in his goddamn life. Then, he’s pulling my shirt over my head with a kind of reverence-turned-urgency that makes my skin prickle.

His hands go from firm to frantic, from reverent to possessive, palms trailing over ribs, thumbs grazing under my bra, mouth dropping hot and open-mouthed kisses over the swell of my chest like he’s forgotten air exists.

I arch against him with a sound that’s absolutely not a whimper. My hands are under his shirt, nails dragging down his back. He groans when I suck a bruise into his neck right below the collar, just low enough to make him think about it all day while he’s being saluted and addressed like he didn’t fuck someone across a desk twenty minutes before.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he sighs, breathless, dragging my pants down my legs. “You realize that, don’t you?”

I hope he's right. I hope he's so ruined he never looks at his pristine commander's desk the same way again. I hope every time he sits in his chair, trying to focus on whatever the hell colonels do all day, all he can think about is me.

"Good," I breathe, shoving his shirt up to drag my tongue across his abs. "Ruin me back."

His hands fist in my hair as I work my way down his body, sink to my knees, and slowly drag his zipper down. He's panting, chest heaving, hands flexing restlessly against my shoulders like he doesn't know whether to push me away or pull me closer.

I make the decision for him.

In one smooth motion, I tug his pants and briefs down just enough to free his straining cock. It springs up, hard, flushed and perfect. I lick my lips while looking up at him through my lashes as I wrap one hand around the base.

Slowly, I lean forward and swirl my tongue around the tip, tasting the salty bead of precum gathered there. He tastes like heady damnation, like danger, like every filthy thing I have ever been too afraid to admit I wanted.

He makes a strangled sound, hips twitching forward like he can't help himself. Encouraged, I take him deeper, letting him slide into the wet heat of my mouth inch by torturous inch.

I hum around him, and he curses, the muscles in his thighs tensing under my palm. I work my mouth over his shaft, sucking and licking, taking him deep until he hits the back of my throat. My hand strokes what I can't fit, twisting and squeezing in time with the bobbing of my head.

"Angel," he pants, hips starting to thrust shallowly, fucking into my mouth. "Shit, I'm gonna... You need to stop or I'm gonna..."

I pull off with a lewd pop, grinning up at him. "You're gonna what, Colonel? Cum in my mouth? All over my face?" I stroke him faster, thumb rubbing over the sensitive head. "Tell me what you want.”

Caleb pulls me up aggressively and spins me around, bending me over the desk. His hands are hot on my hips as he kicks my feet apart, spreading me open for him. "I want to bend you over this desk and bury myself in your tight pussy, fuck you so hard you forget your own name."

His fingers dip between my legs, finding me wet and wanting. "So fucking ready for me," he rasps, stroking through my slick folds. "So desperate for my cock, aren't you?"

I moan, arching my back to push my ass against him. "Please," I beg shamelessly. "I need you inside me."

With one hard thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, stretching me deliciously around his thick length. I cry out as he starts to move, setting a punishing pace right from the start. He pounds into me relentlessly, the desk shaking with the force of his thrusts.

He moves inside me like he owns every shattered, gasping part of me. He is not fucking me—he is claiming me, tearing me down to raw nerve and begging noise. It is annihilation, it is transcendence; he fucks me into a new shape, and I let him, I welcome it, I beg for it with every frantic, shattered breath.

His hand snakes around to rub my clit, and I nearly scream, the added stimulation almost too much to take. My thighs start to tremble, the telltale tingle building at the base of my spine. My cunt seizes around him, walls clenching, desperate to keep him buried deep, to drag him closer, to fucking merge with him if that is what it takes to survive the pleasure.

“Fuck, you're dripping all over my cock. Such a messy little whore for me.” His voice is heavy with intent, like every word is a slow, deliberate stroke against my senses.

The feel of him inside me is a brutal, perfect agony, every drag of his cock against soaked, throbbing flesh a new prayer of pleasure punched into my blood.

Every inch of me burns, every nerve firing, until I shatter in a burst of brilliance, blinding in its intensity, as every nerve screams with sensation. I'm distantly aware of him swearing as my inner walls spasm, locking him in a suffocating grip that feels like the last knot of a lover’s embrace.

He fucks me through it, never letting up, prolonging my pleasure until it borders on pain. Before I can catch my breath, he flips me over, hooking my legs over his shoulders as he drives back into my oversensitive pussy. I mewl, back arching at the exquisite amalgamation of pleasure and pain.

“Mine. You hear me?” He barks, pupils blown with lust as he drinks in the way he disappears into me. “No one else gets to have you like this. No one else touches you.”

"Harder," I demand breathlessly, my words staggered like someone barely holding onto their last thread of control. "Fuck me harder, Colonel. I can take it. Don’t you dare hold back on me."

I want him to use me until I am nothing but trembling limbs and broken whimpers, leaking and ruined and drunk on him, drunk on the savage bliss he feeds me.

He snarls, hips snapping forward with renewed force. The absolute strength of him, the power coiled in every muscle, is dizzying. He could break me apart, and I'd beg him for more.

It's base and primal, rutting together like animals in heat. There's no room for tenderness or affection, just a carnal need to fuck and claim and possess. I want him to wreck me so thoroughly that I feel the bruises of him tomorrow, to carve the shape of him into my bones so deep that no one will ever touch me without tasting him first.

"I love how fucking desperate you are for me," he praises, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust. "This pussy belongs to me. Say it."

"Yours," I pant, delirious. "All yours, only yours."

He rewards me with a rough circling of my swollen clit, fingers sending molten ecstasy through my core. Heat pools low in my belly, and then it spirals outwards, a violent, pleasurable storm that has me writhing.

"Gonna fill this cunt with my cum," he vows darkly, like a lullaby sung by a predator, sweet, soothing, promising nothing but a beautiful end. “Pump you full and watch it drip out of your ruined little hole."

I clench hard around him, a broken moan spilling from my lips. I'm past the point of coherent speech, reduced to wordless cries and desperate whimpers as he fucks me with single-minded intensity. I am so wet for him, so strung out on the obscene need he stokes in me, that every slam feels like it might kill me, and god, what a fucking way to die.

"Caleb," I sob, my voice utterly wrecked. "Please, I need... I'm so close..."

"I know, angel," he soothes, even as his hips piston into me at a merciless pace. The baritone of his voice rumbles against my skin, a bass note that vibrates through me, shaking my core. "I can feel it. This cunt is fucking throbbing for me."

He's right, I'm pulsing around him, greedily trying to pull him deeper. Every thrust drags along my sensitive walls, stoking the inferno coiling in my core. I cannot think, I cannot breathe; there is only the relentless claiming of his body against mine, staking me open from the inside like I am a kingdom he has conquered and set to ruin.

I can feel the heat building in my stomach, and when he presses his forehead against mine and says, “Come for me, now,” in that voice—the commander voice, the one that means orders—I unravel.

Messy. Loud. Completely undignified. It rolls through my body like a violently breaking wave, leaving me wrecked in its wake, desperate for the next crash.

He follows right after, hips stuttering in that perfect, helpless way that makes my toes curl. His whole body tightens, every muscle going rigid as he gasps, his breath coming out in sharp bursts. 

His release floods me in deep, hot waves that make my head spin. I feel him in every part of me, each pulse of his cock making my pussy echo with the same need, the same hunger. His voice is hoarse, a broken cry of my name slipping from his lips, and I’m completely, utterly lost in him.

We collapse in a pile of sweat on the wreck of his very expensive desk, both of us panting like we’ve just run a combat drill with no oxygen.

“…You’re going to have to submit a maintenance request for that,” I wheeze, looking at the cracked desk frame.

Caleb groans, dragging a hand over his face. “Yeah. I’ll just put ‘severe structural failure due to unrelenting Hunter ferality’ and hope the interns don’t read too far into it.”

I’m still sprawled on his desk like a pagan sacrifice to the gods of questionable decision-making, while Caleb is awkwardly trying to gather the wreckage of his composure.

“You broke my stapler,” he mutters, holding the poor, mangled thing up between two fingers.

“Pfft,” I scoff, swiping a pen off my back and sitting up with a wince. “It was either that or your spine, Colonel. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Right. Lucky.” He tosses the stapler in the trash and narrows his eyes at me, which would be intimidating if he wasn’t still flushed and hair-mussed and clearly having trouble standing upright without leaning on the desk.

It’s honestly kind of adorable.

“You’re smilin’ like a little gremlin,” he notes, buttoning up his uniform with shaking fingers.

“Just admiring my work,” I hum, swinging my legs and watching him try to tuck his shirt back in like a respectable military official who didn’t just defile his office. “You look absolutely railed. It’s my finest art piece.”

He points a very stern finger at me. “That was a one-time lapse in discipline.”

“Mmhmm.���

He gives me a look—somewhere between scandalized and impressed—and runs a hand through his hair. It doesn’t help. He’s still got that just-fucked glow, all flushed cheeks and bite marks I’m not sorry for.

“You’re impossible.”

“You like impossible.”

He leans in, brushing his lips over my cheek and the corner of my mouth. “I like you, pip-squeak."

Just like that, I’m melting all over again.

“Ugh,” I grumble, flopping backward onto the desk with a dramatic groan. “Now I’ve got feelings again. Gross.”

He laughs, warm and wrecked and all mine. “Don’t worry. I’ll knock ‘em back out of you later.”

I throw an arm over my eyes. “At least court me properly first, you degenerate.”

He nips my shoulder, all teeth and smug affection. “Fine. What do you want? Rations? Broken furniture? My eternal soul? Name it, it’s yours.”

I peek out from under my arm, squinting like I’m deeply considering it. “Hmm. I want rations and your soul and first dibs on all future office desks we defile.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Ambitious.”

“I’m goal-oriented. You realize,” I say, poking him in the ribs, “this is only the beginning. Conference tables. Briefing rooms. Storage closets. No surface is safe.”

“Storage closets aren’t soundproof, pip-squeak. You’ll have to be quiet.”

I snort, dragging my nails down his chest just to be difficult. “Or you’ll have to fuck me so good I forget how to make a sound. Your choice, Colonel.”

He chuckles darkly. “You’re a troublemaker.”

“I’m a visionary,” I correct, tugging him closer. “And you’re an accomplice now.”

Chapter Masterlist

A03 - Note: Not all chapters are available there yet because I haven't had the time to copy them all over.

[purplesimmer455]

Piper's mom and brother arrive, and she rushes downstairs to greet them. Hamuera laughs and compliments her dress, and she pulls him into a bear hug before grinning. "I'm going to be Mrs. Kang-Hecking," she says, eyes sparkling, and he snorts. "Finally. Ever since you were 16 and started dating Cam, you drove me, mom, and mamma crazy by saying you wanted to marry Cam." he teases and Piper lightly punches his arm but laughs.

Meanwhile, Cam chats with her auntie Iseul and auntie Megan. Megan is technically Piper’s auntie and she had married, had a daughter with, and later divorced Piper’s auntie Tess, but Cam considers her an auntie too, especially now that Megan is dating Iseul again. After a flurry of compliments and hugs, Cam asks how the two are doing. Megan looks shyly at Iseul, who smiles and takes her hand. "Honestly? Pretty damn amazing." Iseul says and Megan grins. "Yeah, your auntie was moon eyeing me before you came over," she teases. Iseul blushes as Cam laughs and nudges her. "Well, that's not a surprise but I'm glad you two are doing well." She says. "How can I not moon eye you, Megs? You look like a goddess in that dress," Iseul says, and Cam fights the urge to rib her auntie for her cheesiness. "I'm going to go and check on gram and gramps," she says to Iseul and Megan, who are too busy flirting and bickering to notice.

[penny00dreadful]

Through The Valley - Post-Apocalypse AU - Part 1

AO3 | Next Part>>>

Eddie rapped his knuckle against the metal three times.

“I don’t sell from the van, Harrington.”

He was parked in a dark corner of the cul-de-sac, blocking out any streetlight. The only reason he’d been able to recognise the artful swoop of hair was due to the residual glow from Tina’s Halloween Bash that had completely cleaned out his stock. It was going to comfortably pay his and Wayne’s electricity bill for the winter months ahead.

With maybe a little left over for a couple of new tapes if he was lucky.

If it had been anyone else he’d probably have been more careful in his approach but Steve never got physical in school. Even if he chose tonight to start throwing drunken punches, Eddie was pretty sure he’d be able to fend him off. 

He wasn’t as strong as Steve but he was stone cold sober and knew how to take care of himself.

Eddie didn’t even really have to try to be mean and scary half the time, his look did it enough for him.

Steve had been leaning up against the side of the van with his head in his hands but Eddie’s approach must have been muffled by the thumping music coming from the house because the way he startled at the sound of Eddie’s knocking was borderline panicked.

A little over the top, to be honest.

Like he expected some monster to appear out of the shadows.

Steve glanced at him but just as quickly turned his back, swiping furiously at his face and Eddie got the distinct impression he’d interrupted something private. It immediately put him on edge.

These traditional masculinity jock types always got very defensive if they were caught being vulnerable. Like a single shred of emotion would shrink their dick.

“I’m not here to buy, I’m-” Steve sniffled again, wiping his nose harshly on his sleeve. “Sorry, I just needed a minute, I’m leaving.” His voice was thick from crying and he in no way tried to hide it.

Eddie frowned. 

He didn’t really know what to do with that reaction, it wasn’t what he was expecting at all. But he figured if Steve could be gracious enough not to snap and spit at him, Eddie could be gracious enough not to make things worse.

“Don’t worry about it, man. If you need a minute, take a minute.”

Steve shook his head. “No, it’s fine-” he was cut off as he tried to step away but had clearly misjudged where the curb was in the darkness, tripping over it and landing hard on his back in the bushes. 

He leaned forward, trying to pull himself back up but went completely slack again a second later.

“Well that’s just fucking typical.” Steve muttered.

Eddie tried hard to keep any hint of a smirk or smile off his face as he moved to hover over him, still trying to keep the mood light.

“You good?”

Steve flapped a loose hand in his direction. “I’m fine. Just leave me here to die.”

Eddie did smile at that and held a ringed hand out to him. “Dramatics are usually my job.”

Steve clapped his hand into Eddie’s and allowed himself to be hauled up to a sitting position. 

Eddie considered for a moment before his curiosity got the better of him and he threw himself down onto the concrete.

The coldness of the curb immediately bit through his jeans. There’d probably be a freeze tonight. He could see their breath fog up in between them and the van they were now shadowed behind as he tapped out two cigarettes from his pack and offered one over.

Steve looked surprised for a moment, or Eddie guessed he looked surprised. They were both still drenched in mostly darkness, so Eddie couldn’t see much of his face. 

Steve took the cigarette with a soft, “Thanks.” 

Lighting up he took a deep inhale before rubbing at his eyes again with the heel of his hand, though it seemed to be more out of tiredness than continued tears.

He sniffed again and let out a heavy sigh. 

“Are you going to ask about it?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.” Eddie shrugged. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. No. I don’t know-” Steve’s words died in his throat when he looked up, eyes sliding from Eddie’s face and landing over his shoulder.

Eddie twisted around and caught sight of Jonathan helping a stumbling Nancy out of the house with nervous hands and a worried brow.

“I’m guessing it has something to do with that?” He asked, turning back.

Steve tracked the two of them with his eyes before looking back down at the ground and saying quietly, “Yeah, something like that.”

“You’re not worried about someone else taking your very intoxicated girlfriend home?”

Steve shook his head inhaling another large drag from his cigarette. “No, not with Byers. She’s safe with him, she-” he sighed. “Don’t think she’s my girlfriend anymore anyway.”

Well it didn't take much more than that to paint a picture in Eddie's head of what had happened. 

The whole town had known about the fight between Jonathan and Steve last year following the spray painting and subsequent clean up of The Hawk in which Nancy had very much not sided with Steve on it, though who could blame her. 

People had expected him to drop her like a lead balloon after that but he hadn’t. He’d shocked everyone by starting up with her again, but now it looked like those issues had never really been resolved.

Eddie watched Steve’s silhouette carefully, ready for the moment he’d just up and start punching whatever was in reach like a good little testosterone driven toddler, but he just looked… defeated.

“You’re… handling it remarkably well.” He hedged, apprehensive.

“For now.” Steve tilted his head back to look up at the stars, his breath curling out white and foggy in the cold. “It’ll probably hit me tomorrow.”

Eddie wanted to reach a hand out, grip at his shoulder, offer a comforting touch but boys didn’t touch. And if they did, they only did it after reaching a certain level of friendship, which they were not at.

So he kept his hands to himself.

“Well I’d offer you something to take the edge off, but I’m afraid I’m all out.”

Steve shook his head. “No, you’re okay. Distraction and a cigarette is good enough for me. Plus you can’t just go around offering charity to anyone who crosses your path, people will try to take advantage.”

“You think I’d let people take advantage of me?” Eddie said with a smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

Steve snored. “No, I suppose not. You’ve got your whole,” he waved his hand in Eddie’s direction, “bad boy rough and tough… look.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows and laughed around his cigarette. “Hey, don't disparage the look, Harrington. It works.”

“M not disparaging, it’s a good look.”

“Oh, really? Didn’t think it’d be your type of thing.”

Steve glanced over at him, his eyes mischievous and ever so slightly hooded. “You’ve no idea what my type of thing is, Munson.”

Wait.

Was that a line?

Was Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington flirting with him? Him? 

Maybe Steve had too much to drink. 

He was obviously heartbroken by whatever was going on with Nancy so maybe it was just some kind of catharsis or a joke or-

A shrill ring cut through the air, sharp and splitting.

Eddie snapped his head up.

Steve didn’t react.

There was a rotary phone hanging off the side of his van, teal with a twisted cord.

And it was ringing.

Loudly.

It was like a spell had been broken, the shrill screaming of ringringring filled Eddie with a wild panic, a wild fear, shooting through his head and setting his blood alight.

He turned his wide eyes back to Steve who was now looking up at the phone with loose shoulders and a calm face. 

The darkness didn’t matter anymore, he knew with exact, intimate detail what look Steve had right now.

He’d been back here often enough after all.

“Stevie, don’t answer it.” Eddie’s panic was edging into desperation.

His time was running out. 

There was an overwhelming sense of loss inside him, mixed up with devastation, heartbreak and sadness.

He was slipping.

He was slipping away.

Again.

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t.” Eddie shook his head frantically, grasping Steve by the shoulders. “You don’t have to.” 

He swung his leg over, sitting himself firmly in Steve’s lap and placed a hand at either side of his face, practically begging him. “Just a little longer. Please, baby, please.” 

It was like he was imploring Steve to look inside at his beating, bloody heart, pleading with him to let them both stay. His tone was frantic and he could feel his soul cracking to pieces, clinging on as if he could keep Steve here just with his grip alone.

“It’s about Max.” Steve stated, matter of fact.

Eddie leaned forward and placed kiss after kiss in quick succession against Steve’s face. “You don’t have to answer it yet.” He said, a thick sob crawling its way up his throat, trying to change the inevitable. 

His vision was starting to blur with tears and the lump in his throat felt like he’d swallowed a fucking golf ball. “Not yet. You can- you can answer it later. Please. Stevie. Baby. Sweetheart. We could-” He threw his arms around Steve’s shoulders, holding him as tight and close as he possibly could, as though his grip could keep them both here. 

His tears were finally slipping free and his heartbreak cresting into complete and utter anguish. “We could go hang out with Robin or… or…”

“I haven’t met Robin yet, Eds. You know that.” Steve’s hand came up to softly cradle the back of his head as Eddie’s tears clung to Steve’s neck where they fell and he wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse. “I have to answer it.”

The next sob that came felt like it had torn his whole body in half, shaking him to his core, ripping him in two. 

“Just a few more minutes.” He begged. “Please. Please don’t go.” He whispered, tremulous and defeated as the soft click of the receiver being picked up sounded around him and he awoke with a start.

Eddie took a few moments to collect himself, swiping furiously at his eyes with his bedsheets, hating himself for crying and trying to will the lump in his throat away. 

His heart was aching and he knew despite his best efforts he’d be carrying it around with him for the rest of the day. 

He didn’t have nightmares like Dustin or Nancy did. He didn’t scream or thrash or claw, no.

He had these dreams. 

He wept in his sleep, crying until he was dried out and exhausted upon waking up but he wouldn’t trade them in for anything.

At least with these dreams he could still…

Nevermind.

It wasn’t important. 

He had too much shit to deal with today to spend time mourning the past. 

The past was dead and there was nothing he could do about it now. 

He just had to keep moving forward.

For Wayne, for Dustin, for Mike and El and Will, for the Sinclair parents and the Buckley parents and Ms. Mayfield.

He tried to focus on the issues of the day.

Their food surplus was getting dangerously low and there hadn’t been a supply drop from the military in weeks, though their own vegetable crop was still growing strong.

Chester Hagen and his goons were still giving Nancy trouble. 

They needed extra hands to get their fence back up again and those bandits were still out there. 

They might have been scared away by Dustin and Scott’s genius and deadly electrical wiring but they weren’t going to stay away for long. 

Their settlement was way too valuable an asset to have under their belts from a defensive standpoint alone and if Chester Hagen or the fucking bandits were able to seize control it could be catastrophic.

And that’s not even mentioning the fucking Ghouls.

Their bright red eyes were always the first thing visible through the darkness of the forest, followed closely by the smell of decay. 

They kept to the shadows, unnervingly quiet considering they were the shambling corpses of those caught in the crossfire of the rifts opening up. 

They were able to sneak up on even the most alert of people, getting close enough to strike, cutting a gnarled claw into their victims skin and paralysing them, ready to be feasted upon silently and unable to scream.

If someone was unlucky enough to die from a bite, rather than claws ripping their flesh from their bones and bleeding out, they’d come back a few hours later, dead and mindless, driven by the need to consume.

It was so incredibly fucked up.

Nearly everyone had had a run in with someone they had known once in life.

Hawkins had been a very small town after all and the Ghouls were drawn to their walls, the noise their small community made within their safe refuge amongst the trees like a shining noise beacon.

The creatures were easy to pick off though, high up in the communities man made sentry towers Eddie had suggested way back when, but the community could never get too complacent.

The Ghouls were still a very real threat.

The two bodies that had to be brought home and buried after the last trip to maintain the water tower made that clear enough.

Two more plots in their makeshift graveyard at the edge of what was once a golf course.

Fuck, they needed food. At least something more than the rationed out vegetables they were able to grow, something similar to the comforts they knew before everything went to shit.

Some sugar, some salt, even a bit of fucking meat.

They hadn’t been hunting too much lately, it was getting more and more dangerous to leave the walls. 

Everyone was running on fumes and it was making them sloppy. 

Their sentries were having trouble concentrating, their medical personnel had started to feel they couldn’t perform their duties safely anymore, their smartest minds were waning. 

Eddie dragged himself out of bed. 

No time to huddle in for warmth and wish for a different day than the one he was facing down, too many people were waiting on him, relying on him.

He did allow himself to drift a hand over the pillow he kept on the other side, though.

His side, though it had always been empty, ever since they first arrived at this estate, ever since Eddie first slept in the bed, nine months ago.

Fourteen months since the end. 

Fourteen months since... 

No.

Stop thinking about it.

Too much to do today.

He shook his head again, stripping down bare and stopping in front of the mirror. 

He was leaner than he had been before all this began. 

Fourteen months of surviving an apocalypse would do that to a person. 

His hair was longer and still just as messy as ever. His skin was blocked out with more self-inflicted tattoos. Mostly the result of sleepless nights and downtime by candlelight when the memories sometimes got to be too much and he just had to get them out, get them onto skin, carry them on the outside rather than leave them to fester on the inside. 

There was an illustration of Smaug from the books, done to the best of his memory on his right knee. Shitty interpretations of his guitar, a slice of pizza, a walkie talkie, trucker hats, mugs, guitar picks and music notes littered his arms. The old hellfire logo and the Corroded Coffin logo inked into his chest where his demon head and black widow had once been, now in the stomach of some long dead demobat somewhere. 

Those had hurt like a bitch.

Almost as bad as the two quotes on the inside of his thighs.

I had not intended to love him on the inside of his left.

He made me love him without looking at me on the inside of his right. 

Eddie scratched at his jaw in the mirror. He needed a shave but that could wait, he couldn’t be fucked dragging a razor over his face right now.

The shower was icy cold. He barely remembered what bathing in warm water felt like anymore. Positives and negatives to having a steady water supply from the reservoir on top of the hill, but no electricity.

At least they were all able to keep clean.

He barely bothered to dry off, dumping his towel in the laundry hamper he’d probably forget to bring down to their approximation of a laundrette, again.

He snatched up some clothes from his dresser, dark and sturdy, just how he liked them.

Dark jeans, dark top, high quality boots that he found in the abandoned house he and Wayne were now living in and though the July sun had been vicious and unrelenting, he needed the comfort of the familiar.

The only things of his own that had survived were what he had on him when they’d run. His necklace, his bracelet, his wallet chain, even though he hadn’t had need of a wallet for over a year, wasn’t even sure where in the world it was. But he added them too, feeling more like himself with every piece he put on.

He snatched up the rifle he kept loaded and tucked between the bed frame and the wall every night, slinging the strap over his shoulder and was about to head out of his bedroom when he paused, gripping the door handle tight.

He hated giving into the urge but if this was the day he died, he knew he’d regret not doing it.

With a put upon sigh, he let go of the door handle and turned back into his room, opening his closet door and looking at the only item of clothing hanging in there.

Reaching out, he brushed his fingers over the back shoulders, feeling the raised lettering of the name across his fingertips and ran a hand down the sleeve, gripping the cuff.

Before he could stare at green and white for too long and allow the sorrow to wash over him again, he let go and shut the closet door.

The house he and Wayne had managed to lay claim to was one of the smaller ones but that didn’t bother them. 

Hell, it was practically Eddie’s own now that Wayne was spending most nights with Scott. 

In any case the house was close to exactly who he wanted to be close to. 

The Hoppers-Byers clan lived directly behind him, the fence blocking their gardens from each other long broken down by El. Dustin and his mother lived to one side of him, Nancy and her family on the other. Across the road lived the Sinclair parents, Susan Mayfeild and the Buckley parents, along with the various friends and family members of those that hadn’t been seen since before everything went to shit, trying to find comfort in their numbers.

They’d tried to convince Dustin, Mike, Will and El to join them in their support group but those kids weren’t the types to sit around and talk about their feelings. 

They were the types to throw themselves into some new experiment or dig their way through The Void trying to find a new way forward.

But no such luck so far.

Eddie had stopped asking.

He trudged his way through the streets of what was once a very affluent gated community but had now become their own little post apocalypse village. 

How quaint, he thought, sardonically.

He headed towards what was a rec centre once upon a time but had since been repurposed as their collective dining hall.

During the good times when food stockpiles were high people could come and go as they pleased, getting fed whenever the desire took them, maybe even being able to make a request of what they wanted to eat.

But in times like these, when the variety of food was dangerously low, mealtimes were strictly regimented to make sure everyone got an equal share. 

As he waited in line, his stomach growling with the smell wafting from the kitchens, the people around him sent him warm smiles and friendly greetings, some even trying to engage him in small talk.

Crazy how an actual apocalypse can change attitudes.

“What’s on the menu today, Joyce?” Eddie asked when he got to the front of the line. 

His smile didn’t feel as strained as it had been before. Joyce always managed to bring some light out in him. 

“Only the finest potato stew for one of our fearless leaders.” She replied with a sneaky smile, pushing a bowl of watered down lumpy stew towards him.

Eddie glared at her but without much substance behind it, picking up his bowl. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

Joyce awed playfully, reaching over to pinch his unscarred cheek. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t pull such an adorable face whenever I do.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and turned away, calling back over his shoulder, “Bye Joyce.”

“Bye sweetie!”

He sat himself down at an empty table as far away from everyone else as he could, hoping to just be able to eat his meal in peace before the demands of everyone and everything started to surround him.

He only got about two bites in before a sour faced figure sat himself down across from him.

Eddie didn’t even bother to look up.

“I’m not in the mood, Hagen.”

Chester Hagen was a man who looked like he might have been attractive in his youth if he didn’t constantly have a sulk on his face and a sickening air of superiority around him.

“Just hear me out, Munson. I know you feel like you owe the Wheeler girl your loyalty-”

Eddie snapped his eyes up. “I don’t owe Nancy anything. She has my loyalty because she’s earned it. Something I’m sure you’re unfamiliar with.”

“Don’t you think this place could use some actual leadership? Not just some little girl playing politics.”

Eddie sighed heavily and continued to shovel his food into his mouth, trying to have this conversation finished as fast as he could. “And you think that’s you, do you? Might I remind you that everyone here,” he waved his hand around, “including you and your luddites elected her as leader, because she was one of the few who knew how to actually handle everything.”

“That was then. Now we’re starving. The military doesn’t respect her, why else wouldn’t we be getting our drops on time? The people are upset and they’re starting to talk. And need I remind you I was an acting town official for years. I ran for Mayor-”

Eddie lifted the bowl to his mouth, slurping down the last of his food. “And you lost.” He winced in mock sympathy, standing up. “To Larry Kline of all people. Ouch.”

He left to hand his bowl back over to be cleaned, praying that he wouldn’t be followed but that was apparently too much to hope for. He’d barely made it outside before he heard the heavy footsteps following him.

Eddie darted around the corner of the building, striding down the small gap between the dining hall and their makeshift medical centre, only stopping once he was sure Hagen had followed him in.

“Munson, if she has something over you that makes you think you can’t switch to the better team then you’ve got to know we can help you out. No matter what it is. You have a lot of respect in this community, we could use that. And you wouldn’t be stuck acting as some little girls guard dog-”

Eddie swung around, pressing the barrel of his rifle into Chester Hagan’s neck, backing him into the wall. Hagen immediately threw his hands up in surrender, his eyes wide with fear, looking like he was about to piss himself.

“What if I like being a little girl's guard dog, what then?”

Eddie and Nancy didn’t exactly see eye to eye. She still held onto some middle class, small town politeness and nothing Eddie said, trying to get her to accept the brutality of the world they were living in now would dissuade her. 

But she was an effective leader. And she was one of the people who had kept him alive during the spring break from hell.

There was no way he was going to sell her out to Chester fucking Hagan.

Hagen swallowed, shifting the muzzle ever so slightly around his throat. “S- so is it a sex thing? Because I’m sure we could find-”

“For the sake of your own head I’m encouraging you to stop talking now.”

“Right, right. Yeah. I’m… I’ll stop talking.”

“Good. Now listen to me very carefully. Under no circumstances whatsoever will I be persuaded, coerced, bought or bullied away from Nancy’s side. This town voted her their leader and unless the majority no longer wants her overlooking things, it’s going to stay that way.” He pushed the barrel of the gun in harder, right under his jaw. “But if I ever get approached by you or one of your goons trying to get me to switch sides or go behind Nancy’s back for information again, I will not hesitate to put a bullet through your eye. We both know I’ll do it and I won't lose a wink of sleep over it."

"Th- pe- people won't like that."

"Oh, won't they? Tell me, who do you think the people will side with between the two of us? It's why you keep trying to get me to join your side. Because you know you don't have shit without my support. Like you said, I have a lot of respect in this community.” 

“B- but you two fight, you fight all the time! We can hear it clear across the estate! We can-” Eddie dug the gun in just a little deeper. “Do not approach me again. Do I make myself clear?”

Hagen nodded, short and sharp and scared. “Crystal clear, Munson. Sir.”

“Good.” Eddie pulled the gun away from his neck and slung it back over his shoulder, walking down the rest of the alleyway before calling back, “Clean up, it smells like you shit yourself.”

“Can a girl get pregnant if she’s on top?”

Eddie dropped the metal sheet they were using to repair the hole in the fence, just barely managing to avoid crushing his toe. The noise clanged around them like a dinner bell. He and Dustin were outside the protective walls of the community for this particular repair and they both froze, tensing up and waiting to hear if the sound had attracted any Ghouls or roving bandits towards them. They were barely in danger, there were sentries posted on high platforms around the whole perimeter but it was still something they wanted to avoid if they could.

Speaking of, they could hear someone climbing the platform from the inside before Jonathan poked his head over the eight foot wall, looking down on the two of them.

“Everything okay?”

Eddie took one last glance at the dense woods around them and let his shoulders drop, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket and looking back up.

“Yeah, sorry about that Jon. The kid just jumpscared me is all.”

“I literally just asked a question.” Dustin frowned at him.

“A sex question.” Eddie pointed out.

“I think I’ll take my leave, have fun with that!” Jonathan disappeared back behind the walls before Eddie could even glare at him.

“Why are you even asking me? And who are you planning on sexing up? You’re too young anyway. You’re a foetus.”

“I’m sixteen. And seriously? I thought you’d be more… open minded about this.” Dustin pouted. “Plus who else am I gonna ask? Hopper, Jonathan? I can’t go to the library, they don’t exist anymore and I can’t ask-” Dustin swallowed, trying to keep his emotions in check and failing. “Steve’s not here.” He whispered.

Eddie’s heart gave a painful thud, like it always did whenever Steve was mentioned. Whenever Eddie thought of him, really.

It usually led to him trying not to think of him, which made him feel guilty, like he was trying to forget. Which then made him sadder and angrier and more hopeless all at the same time. Because ‘forgetting’ implied Eddie would never see him again. It implied that Steve was… gone. 

And he just couldn’t accept that.

But trying to avoid thoughts of Steve often left Dustin in the lurch. He knew it did. 

Who else could the kid talk to about this? Not Jonathan or Hopper or Joyce or Wayne or Claudia. None of them knew Steve like Dustin did. Not even Nancy had known him very well by the end.

Will and El had been the two kids who’d interacted with Steve the least when they were all together. Before. And Mike had too much ‘ex-boyfriend to his sister’ attitude about him to really talk to Steve back then, always assuming there’d be more time.

Maybe he could talk to Richard and Melissa Buckley. They were the parental connection Steve never had, Eddie knew that. Steve had told him that himself.

But there was too much of an age gap.

And the rest of their Upside-Down crew were in the same boat Steve was. 

Not here. 

They hadn’t been seen or heard from in over fourteen months.

Robin, Max, Lucas, Erica… 

Missing.

Not gone. 

Never gone.

Just… missing.

Dustin shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, can we just talk about the sex like scientists? Not make it weird with squiggly feelings?”

Eddie smirked, but nodded, happy to avoid the subject of Steve for a little longer.

“Sure thing, kiddo. To answer your question, yes. A girl can get pregnant from literally every penis in vagina position. And she can get pregnant if she’s on her period. And if it’s her first time.”

Dustin huffed, throwing his arms out at his sides. “Then how is anyone supposed to have sex without getting someone pregnant in the apocalypse?”

Eddie snorted, picking back up his metal sheet. “Why do you think there's been so many babies born here since it started?”

“Unsafe practices?”

Eddie snapped his fingers and pointed at Dustin. “Unsafe practices.”

“Well…” Eddie could hear Dustin drumming his fingers against his baseball bat, apparently contemplating something. He took a big breath in. “What have you been doing?”

Eddie nearly dropped the sheet again. “Me?”

“Yeah? How have you been having sex without getting anyone pregnant?”

Eddie blew out a breath, busying himself with finally securing the sheet. He’d probably end up nearly dropping it again if he didn’t. He cleared his throat. “I haven’t been.”

“Having sex?” Dustin asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Eddie closed his eyes, bracing for all the usual questions. “I haven’t been having sex.”

“Why? Are you celibate? Are you waiting till marriage or something?”

“No…” He shook his head. “I just…”

“You do like girls, right?”

Dustin’s tone wasn’t accusatory or derogatory, just curious.

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “You go around asking people dangerous questions like that often, Henderson?”

“No. I’m not an idiot. Didn’t feel like a dangerous question to ask you. You don’t feel dangerous.” Dustin scowled. “Are you?”

Eddie allowed the corner of his mouth to tick up. “No, kid. I’m not dangerous. And to answer your question…” he shrugged. “Yeah. I like girls just fine.”

Dustin watched him closely, eyes darting between Eddie’s own. “But you don't prefer them?”

Eddie nodded. “Correct.”

Dustin nodded as well. “Okay. So you're like Will?”

“Not exactly. I like people… but I tend to lean towards the more… masculine side of things.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, animals do it all the time right? Why would it be different for people? People are just animals with bigger brains and a higher endurance.”

“Debatable.”

“Scientific fact.”

Eddie sighed. “Suppose you’re right.”

“So… do you just not feel safe trying to find someone in an apocalypse or is there someone…?”

“From before?”

Dustin swallowed. Talking about pre-apocalyptic relationships was always heavy. Especially if they… weren’t here. 

“Yeah.” He agreed. “From before.”

“Yeah. I had someone. Have someone.” Eddie couldn’t look at him, continuing to work on the fence, unable to stomach the pitying looks he’d seen people get, people who still had hope they’d be reunited with their loved ones even after all this time. 

People like the Sinclair parents, the Buckley parents and Ms. Mayfield.

No one knew he was also one of those people.

And if he got his way, no one would ever know.

He didn’t need the fucking pity.

He didn’t think he could bear it if Dustin muttered out the dreaded, “I’m sorry.” 

But as always, the kid was full of surprises. “What’s his name?” It felt very deliberate, to ask what’s his name and not what was his name. Present tense. Intentional.

Eddie smirked to himself. A small little private thing, just for him. 

“Ken.”

There was the sound of shuffling as Dustin hummed. “I don’t think I know a Ken.”

“No.” Eddie replied. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

AO3 | Next Part>>>

So…

Hello!

I am back! I am officially bring my break to an end and that is a terrifying concept but I'm gonna do it anyway! Updates on this fic will be a little more sporadic than my previous ones as I get back into the swing of things but I am so happy to be back and I hope you enjoy this story! 🥰

Fic title and lyrics from Through The Valley by Shawn James but it was this version by Ashley Johnson as Ellie that truly captured me.

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for the magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation.

@geekymagicalpotato

[cozzzynook]

Megatron didn’t know if he could watch this. It was important, he knew that, he’d even organised it and Soundwave and Starscream had both agreed. There’d been no shortage of volunteers even, when he’d said he didn’t want to do it.

Not that he was surprised at who’d won. It wasn’t like it was a fair competition, he’d known he wasn’t going to get away with choosing anyone else.

Hot Rod looked up at Starscream for approval on how he was holding the gun and Starscream knelt, adjusting his grip again and correcting his aim where it was drooping at the end of the barrel.

He couldn’t watch this. Megatron stepped away from the viewing window as quietly as he could, and tried not to wince as he heard the first shot land at the end of the gallery.

Starscream’s voice reached him, rasping and high pitched still, sarcastically congratulating Hot Rod on hitting the wall to a pleased laugh. It was necessary, he knew, but he didn’t want his sparkling to fight. He wanted him to know peace. He couldn’t watch this.

It was Starscream who found him later. “Go apologise to your sparkling,” he snapped in lieu of a greeting. “He thinks you’re angry that he’s a bad shot.”

Megatron scowled at him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Starscream’s sneer deepened, looming over Megatron in his seat. “He’s barely in his first armour, he’s supposed to be ridiculous! You are the one who is supposed to know better!”

Megatron stood up abruptly, forcing Starscream out of his personal space and stepping away. He needed to exit this conversation or he was going to punch Starscream in the face. Again.

Besides, it would be easier to get what was wrong out of Hot Rod.

If he could find him.

He wasn’t in the mess, and the energon logs didn’t show him as having drawn his cube. Megatron pulled it for him, and tried the shooting range next in case Starscream had just left him down there, but no such luck. Soundwave’s little cassettes professed ignorance, and even Deadlock said he hadn’t seen him, which was stranger given how Hot Rod had taken to hanging off the teen’s elbow.

The one place left was their quarters, but he’d stormed through there already after Starscream had come to him.

He wasn’t there now, thankfully, but he couldn’t see Hot Rod either. Although…

Megatron pulled the door to the cupboard open. It was technically for storage, but he’d padded the floor and added a reading light for Hot Rod to get some privacy when he’d been a little smaller. Hot Rod had stopped using it regularly a while ago, and he’d been considering using it for its intended purpose once more.

Hot Rod was curled away from the door without the light on, spoiler hanging low on his back.

Megatron had long since accepted his mechling would probably never reach his own size, but it still surprised him how much smaller and lighter Hot Rod was when he pulled him into his lap. He was still so young.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into Megatron’s chest.

“For what?” asked Megatron, concerned and gently tilting Hot Rod’s helm upwards. “If you shot Starscream, believe me, I understand. No one will hold it against you.”

Hot Rod giggled, optics still downcast. They were low light too; he was probably tired. The fact that he was approaching his next growth spurt was what had encouraged them to teach him shooting in the first place. “It took me ages to land on the target, and I didn’t hit any of the spots I was supposed to. I’m sorry I’m not good at it.”

“Hot Rod, it’s your first time shooting,” said Megatron, trying to keep the incredulity out of his voice. “The first time I shot my cannon I couldn’t hit anything at range.”

Hot Rod nodded, trying to hide his face again. “I’ll get good fast!” he said quickly. “So you can see.”

*Primus* damnit, why did Starscream have to be right so often?

“You will,” he said confidently. “Because it’s my turn to teach you next time, and then Deadlock can show you how he adapts what I taught him.”

“Oh,” said Hot Rod, blinking slowly. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” said Megatron flatly, keeping the lie from his voice. “I’m proud to see you grow up and learn these things. I wish I could have been there today to stop Starscream from teaching you bad habits.”

Hot Rod stared at him, like he couldn’t decide whether or not he believed him. Megatron wished he could lie to him the way he could other Decepticons. That Hot Rod was older. That Hot Rod was safe somewhere else where he didn’t have to learn these things.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to wish he’d left Hot Rod with his sire, and instead, tucked him close, pressing his face to the top of Hot Rod’s helm. “Spark of my spark,” he murmured. “I brought you a cube. Drink and recharge for me.”

“Yes, Carri,” said Hot Rod quietly, taking the cube from him. “I’m sorry.”

Megatron cradled him against his chest, like he had when he was new, ignoring that Hot Rod was starting to spill out of his lap. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Oooooh this is goooood!

Everyone assumes megs wants his progeny to be a weapon or to take his position when in reality it he never wanted them to have this. He never even wanted this. Of course he wouldn’t want them to experience this.

Hot rod understands this when Galvatron came to be and he became Rodimus prime 👀

Pure angst!

[yume-writes]

Hello again.

I have been re-reading all of your MCB posts, and I realized there are some potential funny moments with the cardbots. So buckle up, this will be a long post.

1)

I don't know how much you know abt S2 cardbots, but there's Sky Gallop, and basically he can turn into a centaur. All I can think in my head is the Cybertronians getting bamboozled when he activates his ability and goes from man to horseman. Is he a beastformer? Where did he get the horse part? Nobody knows! When Miko heard they had a robot centaur, she started the discussion: "Centaurs are insects."

Sky Gallop: Oh. This. I don't like this.

2)

Then there's Black Hook (my fav; I do love funky pirates), who is currently allied with the Autobots, and he's a flying ship. Think of all the energon they can shove onto this bad boy (smack ship)! I think personally he's against the ideas at first, but then after some convincing and the thrill of running away after stealing stuff will get to him.

Sometimes in order to find where he went (he's a free spirit; of course he will disappear once in a while) is to let Heavy Iron out on a mission. Not even a moment later, BH will show up just to watch him get punched in the face when fighting cons; it's his favorite entertainment. The same method can be used for Heavy Iron.

Also, the kids would absolutely introduce him to Peter Pan.

3)

From the cartoon, we know the cardbots are terrified of monsters (lmao the rail climbing), and in TFP we have Insecticons + Predacons. I think the cardbots would be shocked by Predaking first since he's technically a dragon, but afterward they saw his mech form, so it's like a Sky Gallop situation but backward. If they had a chance, the cardbots would just surround him with questions, especially Shadow X, I think this is right up his alley.

On the other hand, Insecticons are to stay away no matter what.

The Autobots conveniently all forget to mention the vampire abominations Starscream made.

4)

I don't remember which episode it was, but the cardbots can go swimming with no problems, walking underwater even. This would surprise the Autobots since they do get rust and all sorts of stuff when they come in contact with water of any kind.

Because they're staying in a desert, sand's everywhere, so of course everyone is hella dusty and gross. Usually the bots would ask Fowler for solvents or go to the car wash. Fowler would be grumbling about the expenses since there are more bots now. The cardbots are like, "Don't worry, we can save the money," and just groundbridged themselves to the nearest lake to take a dip.

Ratchet nearly has a spark attack right there before being explained mcb biology, but he still checks them after these trips sometimes just to be sure.

5)

I love that the asks are starting to be about team healing now, we're progressing UvU.

However: Airachnid + trophy hunting.

The Autobots almost forgot about her until one incident where Shadow X or Blue Cop, said they felt someone had been watching them and maybe someone nearly got caught in a trap. Arcee warned them of her. Since mcb technically don't exist in TFP, they would be considered a rare species, not to mention they have individual abilities. She would absolutely try to hunt them.

Honestly, TFP is like a death world to them, where their own universe is bound by cartoon logic.

MCB x TFP crossover

Hello again!!! Even though there are a bunch of angst in this crossover it's always nice to have some funny stuff!!

I know about Sky Gallop, but I never thought about how team prime would react to them! The weapon cards from the cardbots confuse them already, those cards appear out of thin air!!! How is that normal!! But seeing Sky Gallop pull out a whole horse body out of thin air would break some of them. When Miko brings up the discussion Ratchet leaves the room, he doesn't want anything to do with that. Sky Gallop is about to follow after him

Black Hook is against it and then hears he gets to steal essentially treasure from the cons and is one board. Whenever he flies off with the energon you can hear him laughing as the cons chase after him. By this point whenever BH or HI disappears none of the bots panic anymore. They just send one of them in and it's all ok! They do panic if the other doesn't show though

The cardbots get used to Predacons eventually, the fact he has a root form helps lots. But the first time they saw him Bluecop's optics turned white, he was terrified about the dragon. I don't blame the Cardbots for being scared of the Insecticons, have you heard the sounds/screams they make? Those are scary, the cardbots could hear a distance scream of one and they would be running the other direction

Shadow X dives into the lake and Ratchet almost has a spark attack and would have honestly dive in after him to get him out if the others didn't stop him. Ratchet is like a lifeguard, his colors match! Shadow X does sometimes pretend to splash him and Ratchet throws a bunch of dirt at his face, dunking Shadow X back into the water, sputtering

It is nice that the bots had a bit of a break, but that's over, none of them can have a nice life on my blog, sorry y'all

Shadow X is very unnerved about being watched by someone who he can't see, he's the spy! Dexter goes out into the woods one day wanting to see some animals and almost gets caught by Airachnid. Airachnid wants to get her servos on one of them, and she's especially curious about the Metal Breath

Also, yeah, the tones between the two shows are very different, Metal Cardbot has the whole 'Friendship can overcome anything' thing going on and Transformers Prime kills Cliffjumper on screen in the first episode, the cardbots are tired of this universe

[thewalkingthread]

you're losing me - r.g. (part 2)

part 1

pairing: rick grimes x reader

summary: you're adjusting to life after rick cheats on you

warnings: cursing, rick is an absolute lost puppy without you

author's note: i'm not sure what you guys were wanting in the part two in terms of resolution, but i wrote this with intentions of rick being a loser LOL BUTTTTTT, I can absolutely make an alternate ending where they work it out. but for now, boss babe Y/N.

-

It's been a month since you and Rick broke up. The day after you caught him and Jessie you packed all your stuff up and moved into Daryl's little cabin just outside the walls.

It was odd at first, being away from Rick. Being away from Carl and Judith. It was miserable. You were miserable.

You stayed in the cabin for a week straight, despite Daryl's several attempts to make you go into the walls with him during the day. Eventually he stopped, knowing you would face everyone when you were ready.

By everyone, you meant Rick.

Everyone caught on pretty fast considering you moved out of the house, out of the whole community. Maggie and Carol were the first to come see you and ask what happened.

It wasn't until Carl came knocking on the door with Judith on his hip that you decided to take that step and go back in to the walls.

According to Carl, everyone knows what happened. Everyone knows that Rick cheated. Everyone knows it was with Jessie- not like that was a surprise to anybody.

Your first day back inside was awful. Everyone kept giving you pity glances, knowing that you were the victim. You hated it. Yes, Rick cheated on you but you definitely didn't need anyone's pity.

You avoided Rick like the plague at first. Any sight of him you were turning the opposite direction. Whether you liked it or not, Rick is the leader of Alexandria- your leader.

You couldn't avoid him forever. But you sure as hell did your best.

Now a month later, you still weren't okay. Who would be after finding your boyfriend macking on another woman he told you not to worry about?

"I'm here to relieve you of your duties, madam." Abraham bowed deeply to you. You rolled your eyes, handing him the rifle.

"Thank you, kind sir." You laughed, heading down the ladder. Things were a bit easier now. People were acting normal towards you again, everyone was moving forward.

Well, not everyone.

Rick has made several attempts just to get you to glance at him, let alone speak to him. Despite him cheating on you with Jessie, you haven't seen them together since then. It seems that they broke off whatever they were.

It didn't matter though, the damage was done. The trust was broken.

You walked towards the pantry, needing to take note of the things we were running low on for the next run with Daryl.

Your footsteps slow down when you hear commotion by the pond. You see Carl and Ron a few feet apart from each other. You could tell just from their body language that things weren't alright.

You stopped, watching them for a second before deciding whether or not you should intervene. They're teenage boys, surely they can sort out their issues.

"Well your mom is a homewrecker!" Carl shouts at Ron. "She knew my dad and Y/N were in a relationship!"

Ron scoffs, raising an eyebrow at Carl. "It's not her fault your dad is a cheating pig! He chose to cheat on Y/N, sorry my mom's better."

Before you knew it, Carl was lunging himself at Ron. "Take it back, you little shit!" The two boys began to roll around in the grass, wrestling one another.

You ran towards them, other people stopping to witness the commotion.

"Y/N, is the best thing that's ever happened to my dad." Carl grunted, landing a punch to Ron's face.

"Carl!" You shout once you reach the boys. You pull on his shoulder, trying to tug him off of Ron. "Get off of him, Carl." You urge.

Much to your dismay, the boys continue to pull at each other, both trying to land a punch.

"What the hell-" You hear the all too familiar southern accent from behind you. You look around and see a small group of people gathered around. Jessie comes bursting through the wall of people, seeing her son on the ground with a black eye.

Rick manages to pull Carl off of Ron, pushes him back. You grab onto Carl, checking him over to see his bruises that were already forming.

"Do one of you want to tell me what the hell is going on?" Rick shouts at the two teenagers.

Both of the boys glare at each other, neither one of them saying anything. Rick glances around the area, "Nothing to see here." He shoots everyone a look. Everyone scatters except Jessie, who pulls her son off the ground.

"Carl?" He angles his head to his son once the crowd disperses.

Carl scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me, son." Rick clenches his jaw. "You think this is acceptable be-"

Carl stops him before he can finish. "Oh save it, dad! Everything was fine. Everything was great! But you decided to cheat on Y/N and then everything went to shit!" Carl snaps.

“Carl-“

“No! Y/N left and now we’re all feeling emptiness! I’m feeling it, Judith is feeling it- You’re feeling it.”

"You want to talk about acceptable behavior?” Carl scoffs, nodding his head up at his dad. “Check yourself first." He shakes his head before walking away.

You stand there awkwardly. Rick glances at you as if to ask for an explanation. You cock an eyebrow at him and shrug your shoulders.

Carl has a point.

“He’s a smart kid,” You say smugly before heading away.

“Look, Y/N-“ you could hear Rick’s footsteps follow shortly behind you. His hand latched onto your elbow softly, halting you in your spot. “Can we talk… please.”

There was a desperation in his voice that you haven’t heard before. His eyes stared at you deeply, dark bags had formed beneath his eyes and the wrinkles on his face seemed deeper.

“I don’t really think there’s anything to talk about, Rick.” You shake your head at him.

His frown deepens. “There is, there’s so much we need to talk about. I- I need to say things. Explain myself-“

You raise an eyebrow at the scuffed up man in front of you. “Explain yourself? There’s nothing you can say that will justify you cheating on me.” Your voice raises slightly, causing the few surrounding people to glance at you two.

“Y/N, please. Can we just talk?” He glances around. “Somewhere private?”

You sigh deeply, glancing around the audience around you. “Fine.”

You turn on your heels, heading towards the house. Rick followed closely behind you, you could practically feel his breathe on your neck.

Carl was on the living room floor with Judith, playing with some blocks and dolls. His eyes lock on yours when you open the door, a smile spreads on his face before disappearing when he sees Rick step in behind me.

The father and son lock eyes before Rick nods his head towards the stairs. Carl rolls his eyes before pushing himself off the ground and stomping towards the stairs.

“Carl-“ Rick glares at the boy. You put your hands up to stop him.

“I’ll go talk to him,” you shush Rick quickly before following Carl up the stairs. He was on his bed, a comic book opened in his hand.

“Hey, you.” You smile at Carl as you knock on the door frame.

Carl sighs deeply when he sees you. “I’m not going to apologize for hitting, Ron.” He mumbles.

You laugh, head tilting backwards. “Oh, please. I wouldn’t want you to. The little shit deserved it.” You smile at him, stepping into his room. You sat at the end of his bed.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

Carl frowns, shutting the comic book and tossing it to the side.

“I miss you. We miss you.” He says. “It’s different without you. Judith doesn’t sleep through the night anymore, dad can’t cook for shit. The house is a mess, there’s no order.” He ranted on.

“Things between me and dad have been hard. He knows I’m angry with him and so there’s this weird tension between us.” He sighs.

You bite your bottom lip, hearing the frustration and tiredness in Carls voice.

“Do you think I should give him a second chance?” You ask Carl, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Honestly? No. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you.” Carl shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be with something that makes you question their loyalty.”

“You know, no matter what happens with me and your dad… Our relationship will never change. I’ll always be here for you, Carl. No matter what.” You reach out, placing your hand on top of his to give it a good squeeze.

“Thank you for sticking up for me to the little brat.” You smile, lightening the mood. Carl gives you a smile, nodding his head.

“I guess I better get downstairs. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. And hey, cut your dad some slack… what he did to me was wrong, but that’s an issue for me and your dad.”

Carl nods his head in defeat as you walk towards the door.

“Hey, Y/N.” You stop, turning back at the teenager.

“I meant what I said. He doesn’t deserve you.”

You give him a tight lip smile and nod your head before heading downstairs. You could hear Judith’s cries from the top of the stairs. Your heart instantly breaks at the sound.

Rick’s in the middle of the living room, bouncing Judith in his arms in an attempt to soothe her. Her cries seemed to get louder as soon as she saw you walking down the stairs.

Her cries turned into screams as she thrashed in Ricks arms.

“Ma!!” She cried, reaching for you. “Ma-maaa,” she screams between cries. Rick looks at you desperately as you approach the pair.

You reach for the toddler, your hands grazing Rick’s at the hand off. The screams instantly subsides once she’s in your arms. She hiccups as she clutches onto you.

Rick sighs and falls onto the couch. You sit at the opposite end of the couch, Judith lets her head rest on your chest, trying to calm down.

“Carl said she hasn’t been sleeping well,” You break the silence between you.

Ricks eyes squeeze shit as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “None of us have since you left,” he mumbles.

Your heart breaks a little at the thought. You don’t say anything after that, not really sure what to say. Rick shifts his body towards you and you really take in his current appearance.

He looked tired.

“I know I messed up,” he starts. “I know there’s nothing I can do to change what I did. But I want to fix this- I want to fix us.” The desperation stays in his voice.

“This past month has been absolute hell, without you. I’ve been- I’ve been miserable.”

Good.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for hurting you, I’m so sorry for ruining us. Please just let me make it right. Please give us another shot, Y/N.”

The way he was looking at you right now was almost enough to make you crack.

Almost.

"I can't," I said quietly. The room fell still. Silence enveloped us in a suffocating hug.

"I'm sorry, Rick. I can't." I repeated. I felt tears well up in my eyes, saying it out loud.

It's taken an entire month for me to even be able to look Rick in the eyes. I was a few begs away from giving in and taking him back.

He doesn't deserve you.

Carls words rang in your mind.

"I think you and I both know the end of our relationship began as soon as we stepped into this place." You frowned. "Whether you meant for it to happen or not, you allowed this place- Jessie, to drive a wedge between us." You sigh.

"You." You lock eyes with him. "Not me." You shake your head.

"I let it go on for a while. I forced myself to just deal with a lot of the stuff. The late nights, missing dinners, forgetting dates." The memories of you waiting endlessly for Rick caused a scowl to settle on your face.

"I really wanted us to work. I loved us. I thought we were it." A small chuckle leaves your mouth. "I would've lassoed the moon for you if I could. Even though you hurt me over and over again with each lie, I wanted to stay. Because I loved you with everything I am."

Rick's jaw clenches and his eyes are moving around the room repeatedly before settling onto yours sadly.

"Loved." His voice cracked.

You gave him a tight sad smile.

"I asked Carl if I should give you another chance." You clear your throat. "He said, no."

Rick tugged his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Said you don't deserve me."

Rick chuckles with a nod. "He's a smart kid," Rick echoes what you said earlier that day.

"I really did love you, Rick." You reach over, latching his hand in yours. "I'll always care for you. For the kids. Y'all have a special place in my heart." You nod, holding Judith close to you.

"Would you believe me if I said I do love you?" Rick cocked his head to the side. "That I'll spend every day of my life loving you even if you hate me." Something in his eyes tell you that he's being 100% honest.

You squeeze his hand 3 times.

"Thank you for everything." You offer him a smile. Despite better judgement, your body leaned towards him, capturing his lips with yours for one last time.

Rick sighed deeply, taking you in for the last time.

Rick watched as you got up to put Judith to sleep. Then he watched as the love of his life walked out the door because of his stupid mistakes.