#i won’t update the fic regularly from there

[threenounname]

uni’s been really keeping me from writing recently, just to explain the lack of new fics or snippets. i’m still trying to figure out when i can insert writing in my day-to-day routines, but hopefully i can get back into it soon!! in the meantime pls answer this poll to help me make decisions lol

p.s. no promises as to when i’ll post on ao3, this is just to decide what i’ll post next !!

[hjbender]

I keep getting comments on WIPs from readers—some who are registered AO3 users—expressing some form of “I like this story and check regularly for updates”. I don’t know if this is a permutation of “I can’t wait for an update” or if people genuinely don’t know about AO3’s Subscribe button.

Subscribing to a story automatically sends an email notification to the subscriber whenever the story is updated.

I don’t want to seem patronizing by mentioning subscriptions, but I also don’t want readers to be working so hard keeping up with a fic when there’s an easier solution. Or am I taking a compliment too literally?

(Please reblog for farther reach)

[ladamedusoif]

Hot Chocolate (Marcus Pike x gn!reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 3

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist. FYI: I'm having so much trouble with taglists at the moment that I'm not going to use them for now - if you want to keep updated, turn on notifications for my posts.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x gn!reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 1280 words

Warnings: Implied smut, some heavy making out, Marcus being an adorable foodie romantic art nerd, fluff city. No use of Y/N and no physical descriptions of Reader whatsoever. 

Summary: Snowed in and forced to stay over at your colleague’s Georgetown apartment, Marcus whips up a sweet treat to keep you warm.

“I don’t have much by way of dessert,” Marcus muses from the kitchen, where he’s peering into his fridge. 

You finish gathering the last of the takeout boxes from his dining table and begin cleaning them out at the sink. “You’ve given me a room for the night, Marcus, I don’t need dessert. Hey, where’s your recycling bin?” 

He gestures to a cupboard near the sink and leans back on the counter, thinking. “Actually, would you like some hot chocolate? I think I’ve got everything I need.”

Everything he needs?, you think, wondering what more you could possibly need for hot chocolate beyond some powdered mix and milk. Marshmallows, if you were feeling fancy.

“Sure, sounds good to me.” 

He grins in delight and starts rummaging in a cupboard, emerging with bars of dark chocolate and a jar of ground cinnamon, before delving into the fridge and retrieving milk and heavy cream. A heavy-bottomed saucepan is produced and positioned on the hob as Marcus mutters something about finding his grater.

This isn’t going to be cheap-ass powdered mix, is it.

Alright, full disclosure: if someone hooked you up to a polygraph machine and asked you if you had a teeny tiny harmless little workplace crush on Marcus Pike, you’d have to answer in the affirmative.

And who wouldn’t? He was kind and funny, and smart as hell, quietly undertaking a PhD in art history and cultural policy at Georgetown while continuing to work full-time. He was one of the few people in the team who actually kept up with the art world, regularly seeking you out after a new show opened at the National Gallery to exchange your thoughts on it over coffee in the canteen. 

The fact that he was also really cute didn’t hurt, either. 

When snow and ice blocked the routes out of DC back to your place in Alexandria, leaving you stranded, Marcus immediately suggested that you stay over at his place. See? Kind. 

“I’ll be fine, Marcus, really,” you’d protested, searching for hotel rooms in the city and recoiling when you saw the prices - and the lack of options. “Anyway, isn’t your place a one-bed?”

Marcus shrugged. “I’ve got a big couch, spare blankets and pillows, and I won’t stand by and see you hunkering down here for the night. C’mon. We’ll get takeout - I know a great little Korean place.”

He carefully grates the dark chocolate into a bowl while you whisk most of the cream. 

“Y’know, I really thought you were going to pull out a couple of sachets of Swiss Miss? I should have known better.”

Marcus chuckles to himself and checks the saucepan of milk. “Usually I’m a Swiss Miss kinda guy, I have to admit. But when you have guests, you do the Viennese hot chocolate. I like to make a fuss.”

You hold out the bowl of cream for him to inspect and he nods, eyes crinkling as he smiles at you. You put it down and fold your arms as you watch him work.

“Is it really Viennese, or is that just a name they use to make it sound all fancy?”

He laughs and looks at you in mock horror. “Of course it’s really Viennese! I even had it for the first time in Vienna.” Marcus takes the saucepan off the heat and adds the chocolate along with some sugar, a little cinnamon, and a dash of heavy cream. He begins to whisk the mixture carefully.

“It was one summer when I was a student - I had almost no money, but I did have one of those European Interrail tickets and I tried to see as much great art as I could. Took an overnight train to Vienna to see the Klimts at the Belvedere.” He pauses his whisking to assess the texture, then resumes.

“Like I said, I was down to my last few dollars - or Euros, or whatever the currency was at the time - but the one thing I was gonna do besides see the Klimts was go to a real Viennese café.”

The hot chocolate is frothy now, thick and glossy. Marcus nods in the direction of a cupboard and you open it, finding some mugs.

“So I’m guessing you got to a café.”

He turns off the stove and smiles at the memory. “Sure did. Café Central. It was like something out of a Stefan Zweig novel.” He takes a ladle out of a drawer and proceeds to fill the mugs with the steaming chocolate. “And I had a mug of something a bit like this - but much, much better - and a slice of apple strudel, and it was heaven.”

Marcus finishes off the chocolate by placing a large dollop of whipped cream in each mug, and hands one to you.

“This is…incredible. I don’t think I can ever go back to Swiss Miss.”

Marcus chuckles and sips his chocolate, sitting beside you on the couch. “I’m glad you like it. Perfect drink for a snowed-in night.”

You take another deep draught of the delicious, smooth drink and hum happily to yourself. “And I’m checking out flights to Vienna first chance I get.”

He looks at you intently. “Uh, you’ve… uh…”

You can see a giggle rising in his chest. He can’t suppress it, and he laughs out loud. 

“Why is the thought of me going to Vienna so funny to you?”

Marcus’s expression shifts to one of concern and he quickly shakes his head. “No, that sounds wonderful - you’ll love it - it’s just…” He reaches over and gently rubs the tip of your nose with his thumb, removing a large blob of whipped cream. “You had a little, uh, something.”

“Oh. Oh. I’m sorry.” You look down into your mug, a little embarrassed, but try to lighten the mood. “Feels like we’re in a scene from a cheesy holiday movie, y’know?”

He quirks his head. “How so?”

“Oh, you know. The whole ‘one character has whipped cream or something on their face and the other has to swipe it away and then…’”

You stop short, realising what you were about to say - and becoming very aware of just how close you are to him now.

Marcus’s voice is warm and low. “And then?”

Is he moving closer?

“And then… um. And then they usually, uh…”

He finishes your sentence by leaning in and kissing you, softly, gently at first. Your breath hitches as you feel the softness of his lips on yours. 

He breaks away for a second, staying close. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s…it’s great.” 

He takes your mug and puts it on the coffee table before cradling your face in his big hands and leaning in to kiss you again: a little harder, now, his tongue seeking entry to your mouth as your hands reach for his body and you lean back on the couch. 

You moan and whine with pleasure as you feel Marcus’s hands caressing your body, taste the bittersweetness of the chocolate on his lips and tongue. As he moves his mouth to your neck, sucking and nibbling and licking his way along the sensitive skin, you begin to unbutton his shirt and reach for his belt buckle.

“Marcus?”

He looks up for an instant, hair tousled and eyes as deep and dark and shiny as perfect hot chocolate.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch tonight. You’re keeping me warm in bed.”

Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[jimlingss]

two years!! :D it’s been two years since my final curtain call and seven years since Jimlingss began! Seven years!!! Now that’s a crazy yet meaningful number!

Hello to everyone reading this message :D hopefully you remember me (it’s ok if you don’t) and for those who care, hopefully this is a treat! just a quick update on my life — I successfully completed my first year of law school and what a whirlwind it’s been. 

I’ve had so many ups and downs in the past year and I honestly feel like I’ve changed a lot. like evolved from pichu to pikachu. It was my first time moving away from home, away from my parents, and making so many friends. it’s been 20% bitter and 80% sweet. overall, I feel like I’ve learnt so much about myself and became a lot more stable in who I am.

school is hard but completely manageable. luckily, I don’t think my choice was wrong. there are days I quite enjoy what I’m learning. I got 2 years left in the game. soon (hopefully) I’ll be making the big bucks $$$ and I’ll be able to fund my sugar baby dreams (except I’ll also be my own sugar mommy). Although my dating life is as stale as always with 0 movement, I’ve become close with a handful of folks that I hold dearly to my heart. guess I’m in my friendship arc hahahaha

funny enough, I actually came back to this blog out of my own volition 2 weeks ago and re-read some of my stories. I feel so nostalgic. some of my stories really slap ngl. anyway, I really miss creative writing so much. Fortunately, there’s a few extracurriculars at school that allow me to write creatively so it’s somewhat of an outlet for me. it’s not fully satisfying but it’s something!!

I regularly come back to tumblr to check messages and do plagiarism checks lol. Speaking of which, I’ll take this time to answer some messages in my inbox.

unfortunately, i don’t have any socials that anyone can follow me on. my socials are pretty private and only the people who i’m close to, I follow and vice versa. but no worries because I will always come back to this blog to do a yearly update so you’ll hear from me! I will satiate your curiosity if you’re every curious about what I’m up to!!

for anyone who ever messages me compliments to my stories and/or missing my presence, no worries, I read them all :) your messages and feedback is never lost! it’s very sweet and always warms my heart.

if you can’t reach my masterlist, it’s here lol

I’ve kind of fallen off my fic reading game so if you ask me if I know a specific fic, I won’t be much of help unfortunately ://

if my fics ever help you through hard times, then I’m super glad!!! life can undoubtably be downright terrible. life can really really suck (understatement). but I think it’s comforting to know that everyone at some point thinks the same. it’s a universal sentiment - and in that, you’re not alone.

anyway, that’s it for now! you’ll hear from me again!

I’ll be back! And I hope you will too! :>

[staygoldwriting]

💌 To the Steve I Loved Before: Part 3

A Steve Harrington TATBILB!AU fic

Read Part 1 and Part 2!

Summary: Y/N has written love letters to get over her deepest crushes. What happens when Steve Harrington gets his hands on her letter to him?

Disclaimer: This is inspired by the To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before series by Jenny Han! I have used none of her characters, but have only used the premise of a love letter in the wrong hands.

Word count: ~1k

Warnings: None, just fluff as usual 

A/N: AHHH this is my favorite chapter so far! It’s largely Eddie, but don’t worry... Steve will be around very soon! Things are starting to get tense, folks 🙈 Please let me know what you think, and, as always, please show love and support! ❤️✨ If you want to join the taglist, don’t be afraid to ask! I’m happy to add you 🤗

You sat at the desk and tapped your fingers anxiously, the idea of Eddie reading your letter running rampant through your mind. You sighed heavily, then fiddled with your nails, chipping the polish off. 

You worked at Contempo Casuals in the Starcourt Mall, the newest and most popular hangout spot in Hawkins. As a result, you were on high alert for Eddie, but you doubted he even knew where you worked. Nonetheless, you tried your best to stay toward the back of the store. As you turned to fold some clothes, Robin rushed up to you and slammed her hands on the counter. 

“Y/N!” she gasped. “What happened at home, update me!”

“My dad sent the letters out,” you said in defeat as Robin covered her mouth in shock. “Most of them are going to the wrong address, but two are gonna make it.”

“Which ones?” she asked grimly.

“Kevin S,” you said, and Robin nodded. “And Eddie Munson.”

“Oh no,” Robin breathed, her face going pale. “That was the letter, right?” 

“Yup. The only one that’s worse is Steve’s,” you said, folding shirts. 

“Aw man,” Robin huffed. “What are you gonna do?”

“Avoid him until it all blows over,” you said. “I mean, I’ll be leaving soon, and we never cross paths regularly, so I’m trying not to worry.”

“Well, if I got a love letter from someone, and if it was as sappy as the one you gave him, I’d be trying to find you,” Robin shrugged.

“Helpful,” you said bluntly. 

“I’m just saying, be on your guard,” Robin said, checking her watch. “I’ve gotta go, but come by after your shift and I’ll hook you up with some free ice cream.”

“Thanks, Rob, see you, and cross your fingers I don’t see him!” you called as Robin left.

You sighed and went back to folding shirts. He won’t come looking for me, you thought to yourself. He barely even knows who I am, it was just a camp crush, we never even talked afterward. You kept folding and thinking when you heard someone come into the store.

“Welcome to Contempo Casuals,” you called halfheartedly. 

“Y/N?”

You tensed up and turned to look at Eddie Munson, who was standing at the counter, holding your letter to him. 

“Can-can we talk, please?” he asked gently. You nodded grimly, then looked down at the letter. He chuckled softly and looked at it.

“So, you think I have an angelic voice?” he asked, a small blush appearing across his cheeks. “I-I had no idea you felt like this.”

“You weren’t meant to get the letter,” you mumbled, and he cocked his head to the side.

“Why not? I’m very flattered, by the way, thank you for saying all those sweet things,” he smiled softly, making you blush and your heart beat wildly. 

“Can I look at the letter again? Please?” you asked. Eddie shrugged and handed it over.

-💌-

Dear Eddie,

Spending this past summer with you has been nothing short of a dream. I wish that I could still wake up to see you everyday as I’ve grown used to doing. I miss seeing you all grumbly in the morning, hair a mess as you trudged to brush your teeth. I miss the way you’d lean on my shoulder as we ate our breakfast, you still half asleep. 

When you complimented the way my hair smelled, I washed it twice a day so it always smelled like wildflowers--that’s the way you described it. And when you nicknamed me Wildflower, my heart skipped a thousand beats. I wish I could be your wildflower forever.

Whenever we worked together as counselors, I felt our connection grow. I stole so many glances at you. Did you ever look at me? You probably didn’t, why would you? I can’t ever be as beautiful as you are, inside or out. I can tell that you’re a good person, Eddie. I can tell by the way you sing with that voice of yours, it’s like an angel’s. Sometimes I think you spared me by never singing a love song (at the risk of falling for you more, if it’s even possible), but I can’t help but wish that I could hear you sing to me, just me. 

I love you, Eddie Munson, and I dream of a day that we can be together. For now, I’ll have to do with the memories.

Forever loving you,

Y/N

-💌-

You looked at the letter with pure dread. Your hands went clammy and your throat went dry. You tried to compose yourself as you looked back at Eddie, trying to avoid eye contact.

“I’m gonna need this back,” you said, folding it up.

“No way,” Eddie said, grabbing your hand, making you gasp. “Please, I’m sorry, but no one’s ever written me something this nice before. Can I please keep it?”

“Um,” you hesitated.

“I won’t show a soul, I promise!” he said quickly. “I’ll keep it in a box in another box in my room or something, I’ll keep it private, always!”

“Well, fine,” you said quietly. “But no one else, okay?” you asked, finally looking into his eyes.

“Cross my heart,” he smirked, making the motions. “But I do wanna tell you, Y/N, in the gentlest way possible, I-I don’t feel the same,” he said sympathetically.

Great. You’ve just gone through the greatest embarrassment of your life, and it turns out, you spent an entire summer falling for a guy who never gave you a second look. You could’ve sworn he felt something back, but here he was, telling you that you don’t mean any more to him than one of his friends. Maybe even less. You felt overwhelmed with the rejection and suddenly got desperate and incredibly foolish. 

“It’s okay, I don’t feel that way anymore,” you said, trying to sound casual. 

“You don’t?” he asked gently.

“No, no, I don’t, so don’t worry at all!” you said, forcing a laugh. “Besides, I’ve got a boyfriend now.”

WHAT?!

“Wait, really?” Eddie asked, smiling. “That’s awesome, Y/N, who is it?”

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out the first name that came to mind.

“Steve Harrington.”

-💌-

Taglist: @tillkummer​ @mlle-ayka​ @sonicthehedgedoggo​ @klaine-92​ @aurumbelis​ @onlyangel-444​ @beep-beep-sherlock​ @morishitoshi​ @onceuponathreetwoone​ @toomanybandstocare​ @underthebatcape​ @zeldaknight​ @fieldofsecretss​ @prettyinpunk85​ @igotbasicdrag @gothicfaires​ @thatonecurlygirl​ @luvthatlovestolove​ @loliakeoghan23​ @dearelliewrites​ @mslunawinchester​ @aphex2winn @simonsbluee​ @inkedaztec​ @dumplinshee​ @pastel-abyss-x​ @frozenhuntress67​ @hawkins-hs @witheringawayagain​ @theshinyrock​ @hollandcomics @pinkgothiccprincess​ @persephone13​ @katsukis1wife​ @murnsondock​ @fictionlandslanddreams​ @srapalestina​ @babyghouly​ @madformunsonsstuff​ @harrys-tittie @middle--fingering​ @urmomgov​ @maybankstarkey​ @jbetches @stardustmunson @maltinonka​ @chaerfull​ @middle-of-the-earth​ @lilsunshine1092​

[abeautylives]

My Name or Nothing At All

a/n: Oh hi. My lovely, beautiful and very smart friend convinced me to write this after I sent her a teeny tiny imagine based on that look on Josh’s face. 5k+ words later, my first fic was born. Oops. Shout out to all my pookies who got to read it first <3

pairing: Josh x f!reader

summary: You’ve made your boyfriend jealous for the first time, and he simply won’t stand for it :)

warnings: 18+ minors stay far away, language, light arguing, graphic sexual content, oral (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, yadda yadda - enjoy!

update: read part 2 here

Josh can sense the look on his face before he’s even begun to process how he’s feeling. Is he… jealous? That seems ridiculous, but as he watches you from where he’s perched on his seat near the pool tables, he can see the playful smirk dancing across your lips. And it’s directed at the bartender who’s barely focused on the drink he’s mixing for you. Are you batting your fucking eyelashes at this guy? Oh okay, and suddenly this is the funniest bartender on earth, got it.

Hearing your flirtatious, and honestly pretty theatrical, laughter from across the room, Josh decides he’s seen more than enough. Hopping down from his barstool, he makes his way toward you slowly while taking in your body language. You’re fully leaned over the bar top, barely even on your stool anymore. Your legs are crossed, causing your skirt (which is already hugging your body, leaving little to the imagination) to ride scandalously high on your thigh. Your chin is placed on top of your folded hands as your elbows rest on the bar. Well shit, you look absolutely smitten with Mr. Bartender at this point. Josh can feel the heat rising from his own chest, creeping up his neck to his cheeks. He’s definitely jealous, and he’s a little pissed off.

Finally reaching you, with a gentle hand placed to your lower back, you hear his voice barely an inch away from your left ear.

“Having fun over here without me darling?” he practically hums, the tone and low pitch causing you to sit up straight and move your ass back to be fully seated on the stool. Turning your head to him, you grin as your eyes scan his face. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes narrowed at you with an obviously fake smile stretching across his lips. He’s so breathtakingly beautiful, but you can tell something is off.

“Oh,” you giggle out, “Austin was just telling me some stories about the craziest things he’s seen drunk people get up to in this city. He’s worked at a bunch of different bars in the last f-“

“Austin,” Josh cuts you off, directing his attention to the bartender, “we’d like to close our tab. There’s been a bit of an emergency and we need to go. Now.”

The final word comes out clipped, and is directed at you. Eyes wide and eyebrows raised, you look at your boyfriend like he’s grown a second head. Josh is never rude like this to the staff of any establishment, especially one you frequent regularly. Your shock and confusion are clear on your face as you attempt to ask him if everything is alright, what’s the emergency? But he cuts you off again as Austin places the slip for Josh to sign down on the bar top.

“Go get in the car,” he breathes out at a volume low enough for only you to hear as he signs the receipt and drops the pen to the bar in lieu of handing it back to Austin directly. He passes you his keys and you’re already moving towards the front of the building; you don’t see the fire behind Josh’s eyes as he tells Austin to have a good night, muttering “go fuck yourself” under his breath as he turns on his heel to follow you.

He finds you already in the passenger seat of his Jeep, and as he lifts himself into the driver’s seat you’re bombarding him with questions.

“Is everyone okay? Are YOU okay? What’s the emergency?” you spew out quickly, feeling slight panic start to bubble up.

“Y/N.. shut up.”

Your mouth drops open and you stare at his profile, bewildered, for just a second before he starts to speak again.

Hands gripping the steering wheel, eyes set forward, with a deep and eerily calm voice he says, “There is no emergency. Unless of course you consider my girlfriend flirting with the bartender like a shameless slut an emergency.”

A loud bark of a laugh breaks out of you immediately. “Joshua you cannot be fucking serious right now, I thought something was wrong, I thought someone was hurt for Christ sake! You’re an idiot,” you finish on a giggle and put your seatbelt on. “Let’s go home.”

Turning the key in the ignition, Josh looks over to you briefly. “We will be going home, to OUR home, that we SHARE, because we’re in love yeah?”

“Obviously Josh, what the fuck are you-“

“You love me, and yet you left me at that table to wait for you while you were giving ‘fuck me’ eyes to Austin in front of the whole fucking bar. Including me. How do you think that makes me feel?” He hasn’t raised the volume of his voice, but you can feel the anger rolling off of him in waves as he starts to drive. You won’t tell him, but he looks so good like this. The way his jaw is tensed up right now just makes you want to nip and bite and lick it; you squeeze your thighs together at the thought as he glances to you to speak again.

“It feels shitty Y/N. And I’m pissed off and I think you need a reminder of who you belong to.”

Oh, fuck.

You know Josh doesn’t look at you as a possession of his, but right now you’re feeling a little bit like you need to be possessed. Making him jealous wasn’t intentional, you’re just a little tipsy and the bartender was friendly.

“Josh…” you speak quietly, once again at his profile as he’s focused on the road and turning onto your street. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Save it.” Damn, can he let you get a full sentence out? Your cheeks grow warm, a little from embarrassment as your body reacts to the venom in his voice, and a little from your own anger at his behavior.

Pulling into the driveway of your home silently, he puts the car in park and turns it off. As you both remove your seatbelts he turns his body to you, “Don’t even think about running in there and hiding away in the bedroom or elsewhere. I’ve realized I just can’t let you out of my sight without you turning into some promiscuous hussy.”

This makes you smile, almost laughing in his face, but the look in his eyes gives a warning. Despite his choice of words, he’s not joking so you drop the smirk and simply nod your head. He nods back and you both step out of the Jeep and head to the front door side by side. With a hand once again placed on your lower back, he unlocks and opens the door with the other and guides you inside just ahead of him. Without turning around, he pushes the door closed and flips the lock with one hand and grips the front of your shirt with the other, pulling you close enough to his body to feel his breath fall across your lips.

Barely more than a whisper he states, “You’re mine. Only mine.”

You’ve been turned on beyond belief since the third? fourth? time he cut you off mid-sentence tonight. But THIS. You can feel the wetness pooling between your thighs before he even brings his lips to yours. The kiss is soft and it lingers, this is your Josh and god do you love him with everything you have. As you reach up to cradle his jaw in both hands, he stops you, gripping each wrist before you can make contact with his skin.

Forehead now against yours, he tells you, “Ya know babe, I really intended to get you home and let you know what a bad girl you’ve been tonight.” He pulls one of your wrists to his lips and places a kiss to it before doing the same to the other. “I was really fucking mad. I thought about punishing you, but I could never hurt you. Considered fucking you and not letting you finish. M’just not a selfish person though, ya know?”

With that, he waits and makes sure your eyes are open and on his. You nod slightly, wanting him to keep talking, to tell you everything he’s thinking. You’re already practically panting, and literally dripping with anticipation for where this is headed.

At your cue, a small smile forms on his perfect lips and you get just a peek at his top row of teeth. “I think that not letting you cum isn’t really a suitable punishment for your wanton behavior with Austin. I think you need a good reminder of exactly why you love being mine, not his, not anyone else’s. Mine.”

A small whine escapes your lips. “Baby, I love you, I don’t want anyone el-“

He cuts you off, again, but this time with his lips, crashing into yours with enough force that your teeth clash together. This doesn’t stop him, as he releases your wrists and brings one hand down to your waist and the other up the side of your neck and around to find purchase in the hair at the base of your skull. Using the hand in your hair, he maneuvers your head to move with him, however he needs, to gain full access to your mouth. On a sigh, your lips open just enough for his tongue to find its way in between them. Matching his eagerness, yours pushes back and they dance together like this, like they’ve done hundreds of times before. You’re melting into each other as your hands move to grip the front of his white t-shirt, then reach around to splay your fingers across his back and pull his body closer.

Needing air and a moment to clear his head and get back on track, he pulls away from the kiss. “Fuck,” he pants out with a heavy breath, “Stop apologizing, stop making excuses. I’m gonna show you exactly why you love me so much. I’m gonna fuck you so stupid that all you can remember is my name.” With that, he pushes you away from him and turns your body towards the stairs. “Get up there.”

He doesn’t expect you to go up and wait for him, he wasn’t joking when he said you weren’t leaving his sight. As you make your way to the stairs and ascend, he’s right on your heels with a playful hand gripping and leaving a light smack to your ass. Crossing the threshold of your shared bedroom, you’re spun back around to face him. His breathing is still labored, and your panties are soaked. His cheeks are tinted a rosy pink once again, his lips slightly kiss-swollen and you know your features match his right now.

Reaching out to the hem of your shirt, he tugs it upwards and over your head without a word. He only spends a moment admiring the bare skin he’s revealed before reaching behind you to undo the clasp of your bra. As it falls loose, he lifts a hand to nudge your chin, wanting to see your eyes. When they meet his, your pupils are already blown wide.

“Oh sweetheart, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

You breathe out a laugh and almost attempt another apology for upsetting him, almost tell him that you don’t even regret it though because his jealousy has gotten you hot and bothered to an embarrassing degree, almost tell him to shut up and get on with it. You’ve remembered however, that he doesn’t want to hear it. Josh has promised you some sort of punishment, or “reminder” as he’s called it, and you’re more than ready for him to deliver.

“Smart girl, remembering to keep her mouth shut,” he hums out his satisfaction at your silence. Reaching to push the straps of your bra past your shoulders and down your arms, he continues, “Need the rest of your clothes off. Need to see all of what’s mine.” His touch and his murmuring, almost as if he’s talking to himself, cause goosebumps to raise on your skin. Once your bra has been tossed to the side, he looks you over to admire his handiwork.

“Are you wet for me, sweet girl?”

All you can do is nod your head, you don’t want to displease him, not now that things are finally getting fun.

“Tell me, I wanna hear all about it.”

You swallow thickly before responding, “Y-yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I’m so wet for you Josh.. I have been since the drive home. Only for you..” You add the last part hoping that he’ll finally let you in on his plans for you. How he’s going to remind you who you belong to.

He palms his dick over his pants, his growing erection becoming noticeable. With a slight growl from deep in his throat, his eyes scan your body from the top, stopping at the waist of your skirt. “Show me. Take the skirt off, touch your pretty little panties and show me.”

Fuuuuuck. This is not how things usually go. Josh is sweet. He’s sunshine, everybody says so. He’s the same in the bedroom, lovingly removing the clothing from your body and touching you as if you’re made of porcelain. Something delicate and precious, he usually savors every moment. Cherishing you. Right now though, you can tell his jealousy has left him feeling a little emasculated, unsure of himself. He’s asking you to prove to him that you want him. Only him. So of course, his wish is your command.

As he watches closely, only a foot or two of distance now between you, you peel the skirt down your legs from the top. Wanting to put on just a little show for him, you bend seductively at the waist to push the skirt down past your knees and allow it to pool at your feet. You take this opportunity to also slip your shoes from your feet and push each item away from you with your toes as you stand back up to face him. He’s been watching with rapt attention, his bottom lip sucked firmly between his teeth. After rubbing himself over his pants once again, he crosses his arms and brings his eyes to yours.

“Touch yourself, love. Show me how bad you want me.”

You do as he asks, slipping the first two fingers of your right hand between your legs, over the drenched cotton of your panties. The pressure is light, but your body has been buzzing for what feels like hours now and the sensation of your fingertips running over your clothed pussy has you biting back a moan. With your own bottom lip now between your teeth, you lift your hand towards him and rub your thumb together with the fingers that are coated with your arousal.

His hand shoots out to grip your wrist and bring it closer for him to inspect, which moves your bodies nearer each other. The glisten on your fingertips makes him smile, a full-fledged toothy grin, before he moves your fingers to his mouth and slips them between his lips. His tongue moves slowly around each finger, savoring the taste of you. Pulling off of your fingers with a pop, he whispers out, “So sweet.. tastes like heaven babe. Need more…”

Josh presses his palm to the center of your chest and lightly pushes you backwards until the backs of your knees meet the bed. You remain standing that way for a beat, until he moves forward and presses the full length of his body against yours, leaning his head down to press a kiss into the skin of your shoulder. From this position he turns his head slightly so he can speak directly into your ear.

“Lay back on the bed sweetheart. Be a good girl for me, for once.”

You scoff at that, a small sound but he’s heard it.

“Don’t forget that you’re in trouble, love. Batting your pretty eyelashes at that idiot, laughing at everything he said. Was he really so charming that you forgot all about me?”

You bend your knees to take a seat on the edge of the mattress. Exasperated, you spit out “Josh, seriously? I’m literally naked in our bed for you and you still think that I give a fuck ab-“

He cuts you off, of course he does, but this time a hand is clasped over your mouth and the other is gripping the back of your head. You feel your eyes bulge and your pussy clench around nothing. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Stop talking. For the love of god, shut up. You’re a brat, you know that?” His gaze has gone hard again, his jaw flexing as he pulls his hand off your mouth long enough to run it over his face. He replaces it quickly. “Here’s the plan my love… I told you I couldn’t punish you, that I couldn’t hurt you. So instead what m’gonna do is make you cum. Once, maybe twice on my mouth, once on my fingers at least, maybe I’ll make you make yourself cum while I watch…” He pauses to think that over for a second, then shakes his head to regroup his thoughts, “And definitely again on my cock. Again and again. Because you, are mine. No one else’s. And you’re never going to forget that.”

Removing his hand from your mouth, he allows you to take in a gasping breath before using the hand on the back of your head to pull you down to the mattress by your hair. You’re almost afraid to make a sound, afraid that he’ll stop. His mouth finds you, soft lips leaving a bruising kiss on yours. His hands are all over you now, your exposed torso left without his attention for too long. His kisses trail from your mouth to your jaw, down your neck where he sinks his teeth in lightly, drawing a shudder and a moan from your body. He smooths his tongue over the marks he’s left behind before continuing his path down your chest. No time is wasted there however, his need to taste you and feel your first orgasm of the night has him in a rush.

Your breaths are heavy as he assaults your skin with his mouth, his hands reaching the waistband of your underwear where he teases his fingertips for a moment. You whine at this, whimper out his name, encourage him to keep going.

“That’s right baby,” he mumbles against the skin covering your hipbone, “that’s all I wanna hear, my name, say it again.”

And you do, over and over, Josh Josh JOSH please baby please please…

Josh smiles to himself, loving the sound of his name in your fucked out voice. He still has barely touched you and you’re practically quivering underneath him. Slipping his fingers under the sides of your panties he draws them down your thighs, past your knees, and pulls them away from you. Stopping to peek at the dampened material that was resting between your legs, he smiles again as he kneels on the floor in front of you. His hands find their way to your knees and creep inward to push them apart, effectively spreading you open to him.

His gaze lingers on your exposed pussy for a moment, witnessing your arousal dripping (literally dripping) out of you. He licks his lips before raising his eyes up to your face, where he finds you already looking at him. Your chest is flushed with anticipation, and he thinks to himself that you look quite beautiful spread out for him, wanting him so badly. He doesn’t speak it out loud, you are being punished after all.

Your eyes don’t leave each other’s as he lowers his face to your core. He can’t resist reaching forward to swipe his fingers through the wetness first, just to feel the slick, satisfying slip of it. He pops those fingers into his own mouth briefly, removes them and licks his lips one more time. A pleased hum comes from you both before he leans in and licks a broad stripe up through your folds, ending with a flick of the tongue over your swollen clit. Your body jolts at the action, having been floating in a haze of arousal for far too long.

“JOSH fuck, Josh please don’t stop..”

“Sweetheart I’m just getting started,” he replies directly into your cunt before he begins to lick at you in a frenzy. He’s eating you out like a starved man, tasting your need for him, before he focuses his attention with pointed flicks to your clit. His hands move under your thighs and around to pull them closer to his face and as your back arches off the bed, he sucks your clit past his lips. One of your hands flies down to grasp onto his curls and the band that’s been stretched taut low in your belly snaps suddenly, his name spilling from your mouth with a string of expletives as your orgasm pulls you under and your thighs close in around his head, shaking. He laps at you slowly as you come down, easing you back to earth with him.

As you let your legs fall open and you attempt to open and focus your eyes on his face, he’s already buried it into your pussy again.

“JOSH! Josh it’s too much, gimme a minute!” you gasp out, gripping and tugging on his hair to try and pull him away from you.

It works briefly, and he lifts his head only long enough to shoot you a shit eating grin, his lips and the lower half of his face shining in the low light from the window.

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s too much, cum again for me.”

Two fingers slide up through your slick folds before they’re plunged into you and his lips are reattached to your overstimulated clit. You’re already pulsing around his fingers and he can feel how close you are to giving him another. He’s sliding them in and out of you at a quick, steady pace and lifts his face from you to watch himself work, enjoying the sound and feel of your wetness coating him. Tearing his eyes away from the sight to glance up at your face, he finds your cheeks red and eyes screwed shut.

“Baby,” he coos up at you, but your eyes remain closed and your hands move to grip the comforter on either side of your body. “Y/N look at me,” he commands with force as he moves from his kneeling position on the floor to join you on the bed. Your eyes shoot open and land directly on his as he’s now hovering over you, his fingers still tucked deep inside you.

“Hi pretty girl,” he sounds innocent but as soon as you attempt a shy smile at him, he curls his fingers inside you, tapping that spot that makes your toes curl.

“FUCK Joshuaaaaa,” his full name leaves your mouth in a whine and he simply repeats the motion with his fingers. Again, again, then pumps them in and out of you once, twice, three times. A final curl of them causes you to cry out and your cunt clenches down around them. Your mouth remains open in a silent scream and your body tenses and releases onto his hand.

“That’s my good girl, doing so well… we’re not done yet though babe.”

You’re a panting mess, limp against the mattress as Josh leans over your face. Tapping his fingers to your lips, you allow him to dip them into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around them until he seems satisfied and pulls them away to stand from the bed. It strikes you that he’s still fully clothed as you hear him kick his shoes off.

You focus on his movements as he goes to disrobe slowly, casually. He’s no longer in a hurry even though his dick hasn’t been touched and it’s now straining against the material of his khakis. He spots you eyeing it. “Hey, eyes up here pervert,” he giggles.

“Oh I’m the pervert when you’ve been-“

“Quiet. My name or nothing at all.”

God damnit. Why is that sexy? You need to remember to not let him make a habit of it.

He continues to remove his clothing, lifting his shirt up and over his head. You watch his muscles flex as he does, first his stomach then his arms. He shakes out his curls once it’s off, moving to undo his belt.

“Josh…” you speak quietly, but it’s his name so you think he won’t mind. He quirks an eyebrow at your questioning and nods his head, so you continue. “Let me help. Let me take care of you, you deserve it.” Your doe eyes and pleading tone don’t work on him though.

“Hmm, no I don’t think so.” He pulls his belt out of the loops, pops the button on his pants and pulls down the zipper. Unceremoniously he tugs his pants down and kicks them away, standing now only in his black boxer briefs. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him, your mouth is practically watering. He’s truly so beautiful. You can’t believe he would think you could want anyone else, he is everything.

“Joshua…” He looks up and stays silent. “You’re so hot babe.”

The smile nearly splits his face in half, his famous dimple making an appearance. “Don’t try to soften me up sweetheart. Thank you though.” He laughs off your compliment as he drops his briefs to his ankles, allowing his now painfully hard cock to spring upward. You almost comment on it but he doesn’t let you get a word in, he’s already moving back toward the bed with his hand now gripping himself. He lets out a groan as he strokes himself once, twice, slowly. Your body is tired but you push yourself up the bed and rest your head on the pillows. As he crawls up to you he resembles an animal stalking its prey, the look in his eyes is needy and hungry. You can’t look away.

“Sweet girl, you know I love you right?”

You only nod in response, you don’t think he wants to hear anything else.

“I want at least two more from you. You think you can do that for me?”

You nod again as his face reaches yours, your breaths mingling together as he nudges your nose with his. He’s between your legs and the tip of his cock is also nudging your entrance, his grip around it still firm as he runs it through the wetness that lingers there.

“Kiss me, babe, please.”

He almost scolds you for speaking but instead, indulges your request. As your lips meet, he pushes himself into you, sliding in easily and bottoming out. You let out a squeal into his mouth and he groans in relief. His hands, now gripping the sheets on either side of your head, flex a couple times before he brings one to your cheek. “Fuck, you feel so good baby, made for me. Mine, you’re fucking mine.” He growls out through gritted teeth. “You ready?”

He gives you a second to nod your head and captures your lips again as he pulls out, leaving just the head inside of you before slamming his hips into the back of your thighs. His name leaves your mouth in a yelp as he repeats the motion, building up to a bruising pace. The hand that was on your cheek comes to rest on your throat with light pressure, just enough for you to feel it. You feel completely possessed by him as he looks down between your bodies to watch himself moving inside you. You’re his, no one else’s. He has to know that.

Bringing his eyes back up to meet yours, his pupils are wide, his eyes so dark they’re almost black. Beads of sweat have started to form across his forehead, causing his curls to stick there. He’s slamming into you, your body being pushed toward the headboard, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix on every stroke. You can feel another orgasm creeping up on you slowly, and he can feel it too as you clench around him.

“I can feel you squeezing me, you’re such a good girl baby,” he grunts out. “Give it up for me.” He brings his free hand to your face, and you open your mouth, ready to accept anything he’s got to give. His thumb is on your tongue in an instant and you suck it lightly for a moment before he pulls it away and moves to bring it down to your extremely sensitive clit. His body shifts as the other hand leaves your throat, he’s moved back with his weight on his heels and he grips your waist. As soon as he’s got his thumb on your clit, he adds pressure as he moves it in swift circles. It’s immediately overstimulating, he hasn’t lost his rhythm as he’s pumping his hips into you, and you cry out his name.

“That’s right love, tell me who you belong to, who this sweet pussy belongs to.”

“You Josh, you you you, only y-you,” the words stumble out of you.

“Who makes you feel this good baby?”

“Youuuuu Josh,” you whine, the circles he’s drawing on your clit are unwavering and you know you’re seconds away from a third orgasm.

“That’s. Fucking. Right.” Each word is punctuated by a sharp thrust and you feel the wave crash down over you. It’s powerful and pulls you under as a haze of colors flash behind your eyelids.

“FUCK baby, that’s right, you’re soooo fucking good for me, my good girl,” you can hear Josh speaking, his excited words rushing out of him, but it sounds distant, like you’re floating outside of yourself. His rhythm has faltered and he strokes into you once, twice more before he’s spilling himself deep inside you with a drawn out groan. The grip on your hip is white-knuckled and sure to leave fingertip shaped bruises. He resists collapsing onto you, holding himself up as you float back down to the bed, to this universe. When your eyes open you first see his smile. It’s huge, all of his perfect teeth on display, the little gap between the front top two making you smile too. As your gaze moves lower you see that his torso, his stomach is soaking wet.

“What the fuck is-“

“You fucking squirted, I can’t believe this.” He sounds giddy, like a kid who just got exactly what he wanted for Christmas. “You’re so fucking perfect. And all mine. How did I get so lucky?” He’s almost giggling as he slowly pulls out of you and comes to rest on his side next to you.

“I’ve… never done that before,” you’re giggling now too, taking in Josh’s afterglow as he’s looking down, transfixed by the mess you’ve made of the bedding.

“Yeah, you think Mr. Bartender what’s-his-face could’ve made THAT happen?”

“Austin. His name’s Austin.”

Josh’s head whips up at that, a fire back in his eyes.

“Oh sweetheart… that was the wrong fucking answer.”

Part 2 🤍

[millersdjarin]

Some Invisible String

Chapter I: High Tide

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: E (eventually)

Summary: Ten years after Reader left Joel for reasons he still doesn't know, they find themselves together again in a town called Jackson. Joel has questions he's too afraid to ask; and Reader dreads having to give the answers.

Tags/Warnings: eventual smut, post tlou part I, jackson era joel <3, emotion!!!

Chapter length: 3.3k

notes: my first multi-chapter joel fic! overall title is from taylor swift's "invisible string", chapter I title also from taylor, "this love" ♥︎ eventual smut will be here too! so far it's going to be 5 chapters :) enjoy! ps. i recently switched to writing in second person but when i wrote this fic i was still writing in first person, hope u don't mind! will be posting updates regularly

I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea. Really, I don’t. 

But, then again, nothing has been a good idea in twenty years, and I’m still here. So, there’s that. 

One minute I was out hunting in the snow, tracking a deer that made itself vulnerable in the woods beside a half-frozen creek. If I could get him, I thought, it’d keep me going with food for a week at least. Best thing about winter: food stays fresh in the cold. 

Worst thing: everything else. Literally everything else. 

Because now, what started as a quick hunt with an almost-guaranteed prize at the end, has ended in me literally fighting for my fucking life, rolling around in foot-deep snow as runners try to rip the shit out of me. 

It doesn’t help that the commotion has led a bunch of local hunters—who clearly had the same idea as me—to my location. They’ve got the deer, they’ve shot me in the leg, and I’m either going to bleed out, get bitten, or get eaten by infected. 

So, this is great. 

Blood rushing in my ears, I seize the moment a hunter shoots one of the nearby runners and use it to take shelter behind a rock for a minute, surrounded by the groans and screams of infected who are still searching for me or attacking the hunters. Gunshots ring loud throughout the air, along with the smashing of a few molotovs as the bottles hit the snow, the roaring of flames as they engulf bodies. 

My leg is bleeding into the snow. Actually, it’s damn near gushing, pulsing out with each beat of my heart. 

Footsteps are getting closer to me. I try to put pressure on the wound, but the bullet is still there, and it fucking hurts, and my vision is going blurry. The screams of infected are getting less and less as, presumably, the men take them out. 

I’m not bitten. Not yet. But that’s the least of my worries, if the pool of red snow I’m creating below me is anything to go by. 

It’s starting to leech into the snow surrounding the rock, easily giving away my location. As the last infected screams with a squelch of a blade into one of its body parts, one of the men shouts, “Hey! She’s over there! Flank her!” 

Ha. As if they even need to flank me. 

My head is spinning. Blood, shiny and thick, coats my hands. It’s all over me. It’s fucking everywhere. It won’t stop bleeding. 

I’m going to fucking die. 

These men are going to kill me, or do worse while they wait for me to die. Surviving the apocalypse as a woman is a fucking joke. 

I reach for my gun, but there are spots in my vision now. Dark red and black. It’s a mixture of real blood in my eyes and blood loss making me dizzy. I can feel it fading. All of it. The cold, the feeling in my body, the sound around me, everything…

It’s fading. 

There are heavy, men’s footsteps getting closer. 

I’m just debating whether I have the strength to fight back, or even to just end it all myself before they get chance, when I hear it. 

A new gun. A new set of voices. The hunters’ attention is turned away from me once more as their footsteps crunching in the snow turn away and head for whoever else has decided to grace us with their presence. 

It doesn’t matter. I’m out anyway. After all this time, all this fighting, after everything I’ve lost—I’m going to die here in the snow, in the middle of nowhere in Jackson County, after being shot by a fucking hunter. 

Then, I hear a voice. 

It could be a southern accent. I could swear that it is - that it’s real.

But I always knew that in my last moments I’d hear him, real or not. It’s been ten years, but I still hear him in the night sometimes, as I’m falling asleep or jolting awake. Sometimes when I get injured, I hear him tutting, I feel his fingers on my skin, patching me up. 

Now, sitting here dying in the snow, I could swear that it’s him.

It’s not. It can’t be. 

But as the last of my consciousness fades, as I feel the final thread of me begin to fray, I let myself believe that it is. 

I hold onto the sound. So clear, like he’s right there next to me. 

I never wanted to die alone. I’m going to pretend that I won’t. 

“Joel…” I feel his name slip through my lips for the first time in years. 

His name, and his voice saying my name in return, are the last things I hear before I go. 

-

Well, goddamn. 

If this is hell, there is no fire, so it could be worse; but if it’s heaven, Jesus, I don’t want it.

I can’t even wake up. My eyes feel heavy. It’s like I’m clawing back to consciousness after a bad fever. After a surgery that went wrong. Before I can even think or begin to open my eyes or listen for sounds, I can feel that every inch of me hurts. Like I’ve been cut open, rearranged, and sewn back together again. 

So, it’s not heaven. Cool. Fine. I’m going to suffer for eternity, then? 

Except, when I hear it, I freeze. (Metaphorically speaking. I’m already frozen in whatever spot I’ve been cursed to.) 

“She’s waking up.” That isn’t Joel. But it’s similar, and familiar. It sounds like...

Why the hell is Tommy here?

Then, it’s his voice again. My name, in Joel’s voice. 

If nothing else, the confusion gets me to force my eyes open. 

And the first thing I see is him. 

“Hey,” Joel says, “can you hear me? Wake up…you’re safe…” 

I blink a few times. Then, beneath the pain in my body, I realise that I’m warm. I’m under something soft and cosy; a wool blanket, it feels like, if the scratching against my bare arms is anything to go by. 

Any other sensation doesn’t really matter right now, though, because I can’t take my eyes off of Joel. He’s just there, hovering above me with even more creases on his forehead than I remember, an especially big one sitting between his eyebrows right now that looks like someone’s drawn it there. 

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” he sounds distant but close all at once, and soft and gruff just like he used to. 

“I…” I manage to stammer while I vaguely register that there is daylight around us, though it’s fading into shades of amber and pink. Approaching sunset. Last I remember, it had only just risen.

Not without struggle, I get my body to move, but the second I shift in my place, a blinding pain shoots from my leg to all angles, hitting my head and my toes. 

Well. I’m starting to think I’m not actually dead. 

“Hey, don’t try to move, you’re hurt,” Joel says again. 

Joel. 

...Joel? 

Joel!? 

“J—Joel?” As I start to realise that it seems I am very much alive, somehow that fact just makes for more confusion. I look around, and Tommy is there, too, standing by the room’s window, leaning on the butt of his rifle where it sits at his chest, the barrel facing the floor. He looks older, too. Much older. He’s got almost as many wrinkles and greys as Joel does now. 

Someone else enters the picture after a minute. A woman with a frown of concern pushes Joel away—in my delirium I almost forget that he’s probably real, and that it wouldn’t be appropriate to reach out and pull him back—and then her face is above mine, shining a torch in my eyes. 

I squint against it but she holds my eyes open and inspects them. “How are you feeling?” She asks. Her voice is husky but kind, the faintest trace of a Brooklyn accent making itself known. 

“I—confused,” is all I can say, dumbly. Joel is standing behind her, looking over her shoulder with a frown that reaches new depths. (He frowned a lot back in the day, but geez, he’s got even better at it.) “Where am I? Who—who are you?” 

“I’m Angela,” she answers, removing the blinding torch from my eyes, instead pressing two firm fingers into the pulse point on my wrist. “You’re in a town called Jackson. It seems you already know these two fellas.” 

“I—yeah,” I manage to laugh a little in disbelief. Tommy is still there on the opposite side of the room, smiling just a little, fond and nostalgic. It’s then that Angela’s words hit me. A town? “I…is this…am I…the hunters…you…?” My words aren’t coherent or related enough to count as a sentence, or even a completed question. 

“It’s our town,” Tommy says with a small smile. “You got nothin’ to worry about. No one here’s a hunter, and you’re in good hands.” He nods to Angela. 

I look back to her and frown at the way she’s wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm. “Are you…a doctor?” 

“I am,” she answers. “You got shot. Lost a lot of blood. These two found you just outside town with barely enough time—or blood—to spare.” 

I can’t stop glancing between Angela, Joel, and Tommy. It’s like I’m watching a tennis match between three people. 

I’m still not entirely sure this is real. In a fever dream, or even in my last moments, my brain would definitely conjure up something like this. A safe town, where I’m under a warm blanket, on a soft bed, and being looked after by two people who used to be the most important people in my life. 

“I…” I’m interrupted by the door swinging open. It lets in a brief shock of cold wind, but Joel quickly reaches out to close it behind whoever has just come in. 

“Ellie, I told you to wait outside,” Joel says lowly, so quiet I can barely hear him. 

“It’s freezing out there! And I’m worried. Is she awake—?” The girl—Ellie, apparently—pushes past Joel to look over Angela’s shoulder at me. Her concerned frown relaxes when she sees me. She’s just a kid; probably barely fifteen. I’ve never seen her before, but she’s looking at me like she was terrified I was going to die. “Oh, you’re awake!” 

“I…am.…”

Joel puts his hand on Ellie’s shoulder and gently pulls her back a little. “Give her some space. Angela’s still working.” 

“You know, she’s the best. Last month Joel dislocated his shoulder and she reset it before he could even scream—”

“Alright,” Joel interrupts her, “Ellie. Why don’t you get our guest some food, alright?” 

“Something hot,” Angela requests. 

A hot meal and a comfortable bed. This has to be some kind of pre-death dream.

“It’s almost dinner time at the kitchen,” Tommy offers with a knowing smile, “see what you can rustle up.” 

Ellie sighs, but nods. Before turning to leave, she looks at me again and says, “I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll get you the good stuff.” 

The door lets in another whoosh of cold air, but Joel closes it as soon as possible. It’s then that I realise there’s a fireplace on the wall behind the bed; the flames crackle in the light breeze before settling down again. 

“I need to check your wound,” Angela says. “Don’t suppose one of you boys can help me out? I need someone to distract her.” 

“Distract me? From what?” 

“I’m gonna take off your bandage and check the stitches. Then I’m gonna clean it. It’s going to hurt.” 

“I don’t need distracting,” I say, meaning it. I’ve dealt with worse. Hell, somehow I survived this. But Joel is still gazing at me, his eyes roaming over me from head to toe, like he’s scanning for even the slightest inkling that something else is wrong they haven’t noticed yet. (Seems unlikely—I’m wearing different clothes than I was before.)

Mentally squirming under his gaze for the first time in a long time, when I never thought I would again, I realise that I might not need distracting, but I do need answers. 

Or something close to it. 

“I’ll stay,” Joel offers, as if reading my mind. He was always so good at that. It’s weird. Someone so emotionally unavailable shouldn’t be good at that. 

Tommy pushes off from the wall, stopping at the foot of my bed. “Don’t be afraid to break his hand,” he offers, grinning lopsidedly, “man needs an excuse to stop for one goddamn minute.” He grins at Joel when he grumbles in response. “I’ll be outside. Need anythin’, give me a holler.” And with that, he’s out the door. 

Angela carefully pulls the blanket up and away from my leg, revealing the side of my thigh where the bullet went in. It hurts for something to even be moving in close proximity to it, like my skin is on red alert. 

I wish I could say I’ve gotten good at hiding my pain, after all these years of surviving it; but I haven’t. It still shows on my face like it did the day the outbreak happened; like it did when I was barely an adult.

Joel knows. He pulls up a wooden chair beside my bed, offers up his scarred, calloused hand. There’s an expression on his face I can’t quite read. The faintest hints of a sheepish smile, maybe, crows feet deepening around his eyes. It looks like he’s saying, Funny seein’ you here, and I can hear that in his voice, gruff and sarcastic, so I just imagine that that’s what he’s trying to say. 

I glance down at his hand, then back up. For a moment I consider not taking it. 

It’s been ten years. 

I left for a reason. 

But then Angela starts pulling at the bandage wrapped tight around my leg, and the pain is fucking horrific. It’s a stabbing, a pulling, and an aching all at once. It starts at the bullet wound and pulses out like cracks of lightning, through my bones, my nerves, up my hips and to my neck. 

A sharp inhale through my teeth, a blinding flash of pain that whites out my vision for a second, and I’m reaching for Joel’s hand before I can even think any more about it.

“Why don’t you tell me what the hell you’re doin’ here?” Joel’s voice comes through the blood rushing through my ears. “Last I saw you, we were in Texas.”

“What—what am I doing here?” I laugh, incredulous, and gasp as another wave of pain comes. “I don’t even—know—where I am.” Angela is working away and it hurts, it fucking hurts. But I think, at least, this is the final piece of proof I needed to confirm that I am not actually dead.

That, and the way Joel’s thumb is smoothing over the top of my hand, even though I’m squeezing his so hard that it must hurt like fuck. He’s doing it like he’s not even thinking about it. Like it’s second nature. 

I left for a reason. 

“You’re in Jackson,” he says. 

“I know that. I just—don’t—” I grunt in between words as Angela takes alcohol to the wound. “I don’t know how far—how far you took me—”

“You were barely outside the town. The hunters that got you were bandits on their way to us."

"Right," I say, still not really understanding.

"So it’s just coincidence we found ourselves together again?” 

Yes! I left for a fucking reason! 

I’m realising I’m not saying it out loud. 

I’m not saying it out loud because I never even told Joel there was a reason, let alone what that reason actually was. 

“I—guess so,” I grit out. “Sometimes the Universe likes to laugh at us. I—oh, Jesus!” A particularly intense stab of pain comes as Angela starts dabbing at the wound. It’s a bruise, a gash, a cut, all at once. 

“It’s alright, hey, just look at me,” Joel’s voice comes, so familiar that it hurts, so soft that it hurts—“Look right at me. That’s it. Do you remember where you were when this happened?” 

“I—in the snow,” I answer, staring into his eyes like they’re a lifeline. Angela has started wrapping a new bandage around it now, tight and secure. It hurts. It just fucking hurts. Everything fucking hurts. “The forest. I was—hunting for food. Then…infected. Infected came and—then—hunters…” 

Joel nods, encouraging me to continue. 

I can’t, though. The pain is too much. Looking at him is too much. 

I screw my eyes shut, and a traitorous, humiliating tear spills from one of them. In frustration, a groan splits past my lips, and I reach up my other hand to wipe away the tear. 

“Nearly done,” Angela promises.

My teeth are biting down on my lip so hard that I can taste blood; but the pain of that is paling in comparison to everything else, so it doesn’t bother me. 

“God fucking dammit,” I grunt as another tear falls. 

Down to my very core, it is humiliating. 

To be here, writhing in pain, and crying in front of Joel, of all people. Crying during the apocalypse. Crying because he’s there. Because his eyes are still the same.

I’ve always been too soft. I was never as hard as Joel. Or as anyone else around me. 

As a kid, books always said that being soft was a strength in its own way. That it was a quality to be proud of. But in this world, all it’s ever brought me is close to death.

“All done,” Angela says. 

Though the pain is still very much alive and well, I breathe out a sigh of relief, waiting eagerly for it to ebb. Realising I’m still holding onto Joel’s hand so tight that my knuckles have gone white, I release him, and take a deep breath. 

“Good job,” he says. Whether he’s saying it to me or Angela, I’m not sure. He observes his hand, lifting it up to look at as he stretches his fingers out. “Jesus, woman. Gonna need a new hand after that.” 

I laugh, breathy. “I had permission.” 

“From Tommy,” Joel counters with a grumble. 

“I knew you wouldn’t mind.” I say it before I can give it permission. And the softness in my voice—well. That’s just downright not fair. 

Joel’s eyes meet mine again. He holds them there for a moment too long. Looks like he might want to say something, but then doesn’t, and stands up. His green flannel shirt stretches so nicely over his shoulders, even broader now than they were back then. His hair is flecked with grey, as is his beard, which is longer now. 

I used to lie awake at night and imagine running my fingers over it. I used to cherish the way my hands fit over his shoulders when he boosted me up onto a ledge. The way the muscles in his arms flexed and showed veins when I hoisted him up behind me. 

We used to be a team, me, him, and Tommy. 

Now, staring at him as he leans against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest, I think about those times. I can’t help it. There are dark and grey hairs on his chest, peeking up above the top button. I remember how his heart feels under there from the time I had to stitch up a gash there. I remember his pulse, from keeping my finger on it all night when he was feverish from an infected knife wound. 

Tommy and I nursed him back, but I thought we’d lost him. 

I thought a lot of things.

And, well. There was no other choice. 

I left.

♥︎chapter 1/5♥︎

notes: if u wanna be on the taglist, let me know however you'd like: in a reblog, reply, message, or an ask :) all interactions are appreciated, but comments and reblogs especially make my heart go brrr♡ happy tlou show day btw :D

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty. Ch. 7

A Homelander X F! Reader/dadlander fanfic

A/N: if ya like to be included in the taglist plz leave a request comment, prev. chapters can be found in my pin post and the link below... i'll be updating my pin post after chapter 8 or 9 so they're not so scattered-- thanks to all readers hope y'all like it. I have officially finished writing this story so I should be posting them more regularly.

tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, OC characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance, toxic relationship... a bit of spicy in this chapter.

Chapter Seven

Sharp.

One of the men who looked to be a scientist– and who seemed completely detached from the situation, caught your attention.

“The V. Homelander.” he said, hiding his irritation poorly.

“The kid returned them to me. I left them at the gymnasium. Dropped some. The matter is sorted.” He spat, not giving him a second look, his gaze solely focused on you.

The man swallowed heavily slowly turning towards you, as you stared blankly back at him you noticed the chubby man had been carrying your daughter's sparkly backpack.

“Your daughter. I need to speak to her.” He said hastily.

“You don’t need to” Homelander blocked his vision, standing between you two enraged that he wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Is… Is okay…” Your hands were shaking as you pushed him out the way– my daughter did something really wrong…” You turned to Nigel, your voice wavering as you tried to muster the courage to speak– I am so sorry… I… I’m sorry” You choked.

You had no choice but to take her out of Vought, you knew you could never dream of paying off whatever damages your daughter had incurred on your name, V had to cost a couple hundred-thousands to millions if you had to take a guess, and whatever strange feelings you had a second ago were buried deep with the violent onslaught of anxiety assaulting you– you knew you would be back on the streets if not in jail by the end of the week.

You clutched at your hands feeling your whole body trembling, a sudden jolt traversing across your body as Homelander wrapped an arm across your shoulders trying to contain your relentless shivering, his far away voice told you to take a deep breath, whispering to you words that your ears didn’t quite catch, patiently instructing you to tranquilize to no avail.

“Your daughter, she wrote this.”

The man mustered all his bravery to take a notepad out of her backpack and approach you with it not caring that Homelander was holding you posessively, you looked up towards the item, taking it in your hand– lots of formulas and calculations, her handwriting blocky and messy, but every page was filled with more and more things that you could frankly not decipher– it might as well been hieroglyphics.

“Sorry I don’t understand this.” You were hesitant to hand it back.

“Your daughter managed to do this!.” He went to a particular page of the pad, flicking it in your hands– this… this is a revised version of a new product we had been developing… a new version of V… Your daughter is not in trouble… quite the opposite we would like to extend an olive branch– am so sorry security handled this so poorly.”

Both you and Homelander had matching expressions, both confused as to these sudden changes.

Nigel gasped in relief as Elmo came running towards his father dragging Helena behind him. The man could have hit the child if you weren’t there, he took his son in one swift sweep, holding him tight trying not to sound upset as he kissed him, looking down to find Helena panting behind, the kid hugged his father but didn’t cry–  simply turning to see if Helena was still there.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She replied before the kid rolled his eyes– those guns were loaded y’know.”

“Won’t hurt me” The kid muttered– hurt you lots tho.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, before finally acknowledging your existence. Peeking at the mess around her and the decapitated head on the other end of the hallway that Elmo completely ignored, she bit her cheek letting a loud ‘Tch’ spit out.

“Before you scream at me– The chump had nothing to do with it, I simply asked for his services in exchange for candy. Second…” A bubble pop above her hand dropping a half-used vial of Compound V– here” She threw at the scientist.

“Is almost empty!”

“I used it, duh” She wasn’t apologetic in the least– now you can scream at me.” she gestures to you to procceed.

You dropped on your knees pulling her into your arms in a vicious and desperate embrace, your heart beating so hard she could feel it thumping against her white sweater, you tried not looking at the empty stare of the decapitated head on the other side of the hall… it was your fault that man had died, you thought. Yet you were glad Homelander had killed him. Glad he had done one right thing for her.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” Homelander said without actually caring, he was glad to see her unharmed, seeking for any scuff marks or bruises with his X-Ray vision.

Your daughter looked at the scientist then at her belongings.

“I fixed it… your C.V24… in theory of course. Technically you were on the right track with V25 but my formula should reduce the side effects by 76% percent not 67%… would be down to 85% if I had more time.” She strokes your back in circular motions to fake reassurance– sorry for acting like a kid… I did a stupid.”

The man clenched his jaw then looked back at the notes, the formula in theory could be the pathway to finding a solution to all their troubles, Homelander mouth dropping in disbelief.

“What do you mean you fixed it?” He asked.

“Your original formula is a death trap… a shit dilution of V– all bark no bite… your stabilizing was the issue… V is a beast with a mind of its own… even your current serum is a mess… you could even program it to dictate a power if your men used their brains for once– so I decided to do that… now Elmo can fly.”

Nigel's eyes widened.

“You… You experimented on your friend?” You asked, your voice scratchy and hoarse.

Your daughter's eyes blip blue as she gives you a discomforting smile, you didn’t know if you should hold her or take a step away.

“I was thinking of administering the new serum as a pill or like an LSD sticker.” She wriggled away from you and towards Elmo as his father took a step away from those shimmering blue eyes– show him Elmo.”

Elmo nodded obediently with a light push he wiggled upwards and floated close to the ceiling.

“I was aiming for laser or pyrokinesis but again I only had a couple weeks to come out with the formulas… had I had more time.” she grumbled.

“You gave him V25?” Homelander asked, plucking the kid by the leg down to eye level– how…?”

“Nah I gave him my new V serum… I gave it to him like two hours ago… I was working on the V.C 26 on paper but I was messing with V… altho if the mices I worked with are any indication– he might still explode in three hours give or take”

Her nonchalant tone was matched by a small kid who seemed far too exhausted with her, Elmo dropped to the ground. Homelander was mostly in awe that the kid could fly after only two hours and based on her heartbeat she wasn’t telling the truth entirely, but he kept it to himself for the moment.

“He could explode! You could’ve killed him already!” The scientist spoke on your behalf looking at the child horrified.

“Maybe you should’ve kept him in the labs instead of dragging us here… bit rich for you to care considering you experiment on people all the time without their consent…. Sage Grove, Elmira… Godolkin… should I keep going? Great timing to grow a conscience, clown.” 

She took her bag off his hands, and her pad.

“Left you a sample if you'd like to test it out… hope you copied it because I ain’t giving it to you for free”

“That’s Vought property!” He tried taking the notepad from her hand, she jumped back lifting her chin for a thick invisible wall to divide the space– you little–

An invisible force maneuvers him flat against the wall, his cheeks pressed comically against the translucent sheet.

“Am I in trouble?” She looked at her father.

“Can you squeeze him flat?” He asked, looking curiously at the scene.

“Can hold back a thousand gallons… what do you think?” 

“Let him go. Get the kid under observation and let’s see what this nerd wants.” He said with a jovial tone.

It was like a scene of a bad movie, you were simply forced to watch as they both bonded over their mutual awfulness– the rest of the evening became a blur, your body had moved but you weren’t piloting it, sounds measly echoes as you followed them around, occasionally catching Nigel and now presumably his husband Sven talking as he had joined the party by the time you noticed you had arrived in the labs… unsure when/how you got here.

Your body observed as Helena dragged the scientist and now a small posse of coated men to discuss her work, you left to sit alone in one of the rooms.

The lights were low, and at some stage Homelander had come in– it was painfully silent until he arrived, but you were just there, half-alive.

“What are you looking at?” Homelander said in a hushed voice as he touched you with a naked hand– can you tell me?”

“There’s a scratch on that metal panel” your voice is so quiet it scares him slightly.

His hand was so light on your shoulder, as if it was hovering instead of being there, he took a chair and pushed it to your side, you both sat together as you scrunched up his cape once he offered you the tip, your hands unconsciously picking up the fabric– the texture like thick culderog.

“We took the kid to Disneyland then the kid acted like they were at Disneyland and we got upset about it.” He said, Homelander’s hand atop of yours as you fidgeted– is okay, daddy has taken care of it, you are not in trouble, baby.” his voice was slightly mocking but it was trying to crack a bad joke– not to insult you.

He leaned against you, feeling the sharp metal edges of his eagles against your shoulders. You started to blink harshly trying to push away the fog with this discomfort, his arm on your hip as he rested his chin atop of your head– he was pulling you into a side-hug, meeting no resistance to his surprise.

“You don’t have to worry 'bout anything.” His voice is warm– am a hero, remember?”

“That kid is going to die…” you whimpered.

“Elmo Cripple is perfectly fine.”

“She didn’t care.” Your voice, starting to crack once again.

“She’s a very confident young lady.” he grimaces– a tad too confident if I say so myself… but you should hear her talking to those guys right now, is incre— I have no idea what she’s saying.”

“Welcome to my life” You nuzzled yourself against him, he was so warm, you could remember the heat– I… I don’t know what I am going to do with her?” You sobbed lightly.

“Let her pursue her dreams while supervised so we don’t have to deal with potential murder charges.”

He tried to make you laugh with his tone but all you could muster was staring back at him with a furrowed brow, your tears staining your cheeks already.

“‘Phantasma and Poltergeist’ I don’t how I feel about our kid being in a team-up… even if the competition isn’t steep– It’ll get difficult as she gets older but then again I don’t want Ryan to compete directly with her for the spotlight, its two different markets with completely different appeals.”

“I don’t want to talk about her being a superhero when we haven’t even handled this…” you said, holding back a sob, trying to clean your face against him.

“... ‘we’?” His hands gave your side a squeeze as his other took your hands more gently making sure to rub your dried knuckles– I think we can handle this, Y/N… we can keep a short leash on her… from now on– rely on me… you deserve that."

Staring back at her happily explaining her process, enjoying seeing the group of Phds feelings of inferiority coloring their faces, it was obvious that she shouldn’t even be in the 10th grade, simply staying behind for your well-being, but just how big was her IQ– how much more smarter was she? 

Homelander wanted to see his bouquet of peonies set as the centerpiece she was meant to be, to let her shine as she deserved.

You pulled on his wrist wanting to be held more, it didn’t matter if it was your shitty ex-boyfriend or not, you wanted affectioness, longing for empathy and gentleness.

You already had been kissing– in public no less! He had plans of holding you hostage until you agreed to play house with him, Homelander already testing the waters by making your children play together. Maybe it was your survival mechanism ill-timing but your mind desperately demanded a distraction, your lips were still able to taste peppermint, so your mind wandered south– possibly because that golden belt buckle was perfectly in your sight.

Frankly the last time you had a date was when Helena was five, they were cute, visited Lucci a couple times before asking for your number, the dates were great and the last time you had sex was with this guy before he dumped you, you thought they’ve potential and your wrist had taken enough abuse over the years– if anything you had given up your womanhood, too tired and focused with rearing lil’ Einstein to notice your needs, sleeping with this cutie wasn’t terrible but the moment the word “Freak” was uttered in reference to your kid– you were throwing their shit out the window. 

For the first time since she was born you found yourself not alone and supported, your friends had seen you like you carrier of pestilence affecting their jobs by virtue of association, your inability to find employment quickly burdened your friends and relatives, your family and yourself had not seen eye-to-eye for years, your relationship cracking deep enough to touch the abyss once you came home pregnant with no man behind you, then it was out the door after a couple weeks, even the kid didn’t appease them later down the track.

Could he really be relied on? Money was but a gesture of good will– covering for your kid for stealing maybe millions of dollars of god’s own spunk, and potentially getting your daughter acquitted for murder. Now that might be worth a blowie.

And he hurt your jaw quite graciously.

You looked up straight into his face, he had been talking for god knows how long without you noticing, and took his face.

Tasting like spearmint and iron, he was hesitant at first unsure if the timing was good but quickly relented as your tongue got more demanding, his hands now had no clue where to sit or what to touch but he let you take the lead. 

You tousled and pulled on his hair, wanting to get him close to you, to feel something good from him for once.

He pushed you lightly as he heard your daughter's steps encroaching, he stood up with a light blush on his ears as he pointed at the door, you looked up wanting to say something but there she was with a big grin on her face and her chest bouncing with excitement.

“You proud of yourself?” Did you ask her or yourself, there?-- If your friend dies…”

“Elmo won’t die… not on a microdose of V. for fuck sakes this company sold diluted V for a G-Fuel collab!”

“You say that but you had never actually worked with V until now! Do you have any idea what you were doing!?”

She looked at the desk nearby, the little GP office setting in this room sort of amusing.

“No. Got a little too eager when I found the playground, it’s sort of a cruel joke for me to be able to make myself invisible, and be in the same building as all of this” She gestured to her surroundings– just because I'm smart doesn’t mean I have the emotional intelligence of an adult to match… So?”

“Do whatever you want Helena… I can’t… I can’t with you… just–

Homelander turned to you, concerned at your tone, it was harsh. Where you giving up on her? He though.

You buried your face beneath your hands, trying to calm down.

“I won’t kill anybody, I'm not interested in that.”

“So what are you interested in?” You argue smacking your back flat on the back of the seat– please enlighten me!?”

“Vought.” Homelander interjects– oh you’re clever…”

He picks her up, poking her nose, there’s an air of comfort in his gesture, as if he always had done so.

“You're a scheming little munchkin.” he squeezes her cheeks jokingly– this isn’t Game of Thrones, darling. Daddy will take care of you”

“You mean the shareholders will take care of me once they realize you can re-open Stan Edgar’s plan to get into the US military… then the police force. Thanks to me.” She gives him a peck on the cheek– but don’t forget I’m not an only child.”

Homelander was blindsided by such a gesture, between you two he was in a tight spot.

Still he was entering heaven as his heart skipped a beat or two, feeling his daughter clung to him, feeling how dangerously light she was, how cute she was, how perfect she was.

Your daughter and yourself stayed silent during that drive home, the radio louder than usual, only when you reached your home did you act, stopping her belt-buckle from coming undone.

“You asked me to play a role in your game without a script– had to improvise.”

“Don’t give me that. You did something horrific Helena! I can't even believe you!” you snapped, your daughter frowned in return as you smacked your palms on the steering wheel– just admit you wanted to do it!”

“I did. I wanted to explore those labs. I like looking at things at Vought– it's stimulating! you want me to get “dad” to love me, no? He loves Vought! I'm just his bastard competing againts the son he’s loved for longer! so I show interest in the one thing he loves other than himself to have an advantage!”

“You went too far!!” you snapped.

“I am not sleeping in a car ever again, Y/N!!” She turned to you with rage in her sight– we are not going back! So you do your thing and I do my thing.”

You let go of her belt buckle.

“You hurt people.” you whispered, pain palpable in your lips, trying to not scream, to not slap her, to stay calm as your daughter heaved angrily, as her eyes glowed intensely.

“I haven’t– Elmo Cripple is alive… so far the only one that’s been hurt is me!!”

She gritted her teeth, the air growing thin inside your old station wagon.

“What is ‘Poltergeist’ getting out of this? He’s not like you.” You didn’t want to argue with her, afraid you would forget she was a child and not a woman– What have you done to him?”

“He’s a dog… don’t worry… he understands I have a vision– I need you to get Homelander to publicly acknowledge me as his daughter.”

Helena hopped off the car slamming the door on her way out.

Your daughter and yourself didn’t speak for the rest of the day, she silently did her thing with only the sounds of the television filling the gap, until bedtime– you sat outside with a cup of hot chocolate in your hands, you glanced at the potted trees and the smooth gray walls of your homely prison, large windows framing your reflection allowing you to catch the blue and red coming down in the glass unsurprisingly.

“You want some hot chocolate?” You asked, lifting your cup.

He looked disgusted at the idea.

“She’s sleeping… I am calling in sick tomorrow… I need a day off…” you muttered as he landed before you, he pushed the metal chair scraping the grass, to take a seat by your side.

“How are you feeling? They will be trying her formula, so she will be there under Dr. Park vigilance… talk about cool after-school activities-- beats being a girl-scout!.” Homelander was clearly not that interested in you tonight– I kept an eye on Poltergeist. All his vital signs are fine.”

You seemed a little relieved.

Gawking at him, his bleached blonde locks, those sharp features and beautiful thin lips, you felt a tingle in your chest.

You wanted to forget about today, to not think of Helena’s actions.

Your smile was sad but he hadn’t noticed.

“Wanna fuck?” You put the cup down with a huff.

Homelander gave you a double take, this was the easiest way to wash away today’s events-- Helena's words creeping back at you... you had to to bind him to you... like this you could rid of these strange sensations simmering within, as you stared at his pretty blue eyes, and his belt, you threw away rationale.

“My battery ran out.”

His nervous smile was cute, you stood up… him still in the chair– turning around once again as you opened the door, inviting him to enter your domain.

Homelander was still so handsome it was infuriating to acknowledge that. Compared to your dull exhausted skin– he was still so fine. It wouldn’t be the worst you’ve done, you missed the attention, and he wanted yours so why not? You scratched your head as he simply stood frozen on the spot, shrugging your shoulders as you closed the door behind– only for his hand to keep it open, his breath ragged and the blush in his cheek matching the faint light of his eyes.

“Are… Are you sure?” he asked nervously.

“John” You tap his chest with your knuckles– take it off.”

Bells rang inside his brain, a shimmering perturbed gaze burning directly at you– a dog awaiting orders.

He followed you into the living room ditching his boots and tights on the way to that terrible couch, he watched you closely as you took a blanket and threw it on the ground alongside the cushions, licking his lip as you took your shirt off revealing your bare breasts.

He was quick to take you into his arms, kissing you intensely, your hands reaching after his neck, fingers harshly caressing his undercut, as he slid down your bottoms.

“You miss me?” His hands were so needy as he bit into your neck leaving trails of hickeys, his tongue savoring that spot where he had marked you as his own, the dents in your skin and the sunken discolored flesh left by his bite mark– it tickles…” 

In the heat of the moment he had bitten you, feasting on your blood as pleasure and pain intertwined, your mind blank as he made love to you, fostering a hatred for mirrors after it all ended, feeling him kiss his signature made you anxious, not wanting to relieve the bitter memories in this moment.

“Mommy…” He whispered as he returned to kiss and lick your neck– "It's been so long, mommy.” he said breathlessly.

“Is been long for me too, my sweet boy.” He moaned into your skin, his maws needy, eager to taste you, his breathless soughs turning you light as he brought you down onto the floor, holding your head as he kissed your neck and ears– you promise to make mommy feel good just like I taught you, baby?” Your voice is sickly sweet making his eyes flare up.

“Can… Can mommy show me again?” His voice gravelly and low as he cupped your chest.

You wedged your legs from under him with a cheeky smile.

“I’ll be extra-thorough then, so pay attention, sweetie.”

He liked that tone in your voice, he liked it even more when you commanded him, how long had it been since you lead him? Too long... too long to bare another moment without it.

Unsurprisingly he had no need for a refresher.

Taglist-- @fromforeigntofamiliarity (hope you had a nice snack for this chapter :), @demodemo909 @immyowndefender

[zablife]

Tachipen (Part 5)

Summary: With the flip of a coin, Tommy makes a deal to bring a young gypsy girl into the Shelby clan. Considering her too young to marry, he takes pity on her and employs her as a nanny for John’s children instead. The arrangement soon sours when Tommy believes his horse has been cursed and demands her help stealing from the Lees. When she seeks solace in John’s company, an innocent romance blossoms, but a war with the Lees and Polly’s poorly-timed advice drive them apart in a way that will change their history forever. As the scenes from the present reveal, Y/n must watch the Shelby men go on to love others while she is shut out. However, the events of one tragic afternoon could change everything.

Author’s Note: After a 5 month hiatus, this story is back! I'll be updating more regularly now that I've outlined more of the fic. The story is told through flashbacks, but I will note the year. Tommy meets y/n in 1919 and the story goes thru present time which is the year of the vendetta, 1925. 

Warnings: language, ethnic slur, implied smut, mention of pregnancy, mention of arranged marriage

Part 4

1924

The frosted glass shook as Polly forcefully closed John’s office door, her eyes darting from you to her nephew. “What is this I hear about the two of you sniping at one another like bloody children?”

You and John both started speaking at once and Polly shouted over you to assert authority. “That’s enough! John, perhaps you could explain why you’re even in the office today?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Y/n is perfectly capable of supervising the other girls.”

John opened and closed his mouth a few times in shock, giving the appearance of a fish out of water before you interjected. “He’s been hovering over me for weeks, Pol. Won’t let me finish one fucking job without trying to find a mistake!”

John pointed a finger in your direction as he retorted, “If she could keep her mind on her work instead of her love life for a change--”

“Would you stop?!" you screamed, interrupting him mid-sentence. You felt the emotion welling in your chest and did your best to keep from crying. Running a shaky hand through your hair, you took a deep breath to regain control before continuing your plea to Polly. "I did as I was told. I broke up with Angel and I apologized…” you stopped before you broke down, then continued with the part that stung most, “for the inconvenience.” Those had been the words Arthur insisted you use. He’d probably consulted Linda about it at the first sign of trouble, you thought bitterly. 

Polly softened at your show of emotion, reaching across the table for your hand. “Alright, I think I understand. John, would you leave us, please?” John nodded with clenched jaw, pushing out of his chair with more force than necessary. He looked back at you as he crossed to the door and you swore you saw a brief shadow of remorse cross his handsome features though you couldn’t be sure with the lingering tension between you.

When you were finally alone, Polly began, “Y/n, I’m sorry about this. I know you’re upset about the Changretta boy and I don’t blame you, but what’s done is done. And you must understand that John is under a lot of stress at home. I’m not sure if you know this, but there's another little one on the way,” she said hesitantly.

“Again?” you nearly shrieked. It was the third time in the nearly four years he'd been married. 

Polly nodded slowly. “You see why he’s so on edge lately?”

You swallowed thickly, thinking of how chaotic the household must be with six children, soon to be seven. Although you attempted a shred of compassion for his new wife, you couldn’t manage it. “Yes, I understand,” you said in a quiet monotone. “He has a lot of people depending on him.” It was what Polly wanted to hear so you spoke the words, turning your head away so she couldn’t read your expression.

“Exactly. I know it doesn’t excuse his behavior here, but we all have to learn to get along,” she advised, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before leaving you alone in the room. A bitter laugh escaped your throat at the thought of any of you living peacefully after all you’d inflicted upon one another. 

—————————————————-

1919

As the first rays of dawn broke, you sat up in bed, face aching from the bruise across your cheek and your mind reeling from the events of the previous day. If Tommy hadn’t trusted you before, there was no hope for you now with so much cash missing from the betting shop, especially when he learned the Lees were to blame. How could he not think you were involved?

Panic setting into your bones, you decided to make a hasty retreat from Polly’s house while you still could. Despite the throbbing in your wrist, you slipped your dress over your head and silently turned the bedroom doorknob, giving the hallway a quick glance for occupants. With no signs of activity, you slipped quietly down the steps and right to the front door, knowing this would be the most difficult part of your escape. The rusty hinges creaked loudly and you cringed at the noise, well aware of how it carried throughout the house. Rightfully so as Tommy’s voice beckoned to you at the sound. “Where are you off to so early?” his husky voice called out.

You spun around to face him, heart pounding in your chest as you waited for his wrath to rain down upon you. You calculated the distance to the street, wondering if you might still be able to outrun him, when he suddenly closed the distance between you, shutting the door with a gentle push. 

As he stared into your eyes, he spoke again in a much softer voice. “I misjudged you."

You held your breath realizing how close he stood, the heat radiating off his body into yours. Transfixed by the intensity of his bright, blue eyes, you couldn’t help but stare back at him. The anxious flutter you felt in your stomach intensified as you waited to hear what he thought he knew about you.

“What you did for Ada last night was…” he looked away for a moment as he tried to find the words to express the gratitude he felt upon hearing of Ada’s difficult labor and delivery. “Well, my sister and nephew are alive because of you. You could have gone with the Lees, but you stayed here,” he said, emphasizing the last part. You realized he was recognizing the loyalty in your decision, though for you it had been a matter of common decency.

“Thank you,” he added hesitantly and you could tell from the way he said it, he didn’t make a habit of ingratiating himself to others.

“I only did what I thought was right,” you said, averting your eyes to the floorboards.

One look at your tense posture and Tommy took a step back to give you air. He gestured toward the table as he asked, “Will you sit with me?” You nodded slowly, crossing to join him at the kitchen table. Tommy took a seat and lit a cigarette, leaning back and tilting his head as he searched the ceiling through the rings of smoke. Then the words tumbled forth, breaking the awkward silence unexpectedly. 

“About that night in the stable… I brought you here to look after my family and I had to know I could trust you. Charlie thought you might have put a spell on the horse and for a moment I believed him.” Sitting up and looking you in the eye he added, “But when I asked you for the truth, I could tell by your reaction that it wasn’t your doing.”

Your eyes grew wide at his confession. You hadn’t expected him to speak of it ever again and the thought of him bringing it up now made you shudder. With a dismissive air and bitter tone you pushed it away saying, “M used to it. No one trusts gypsies.” You hugged your arms around your body to still your trembling limbs, hoping Tommy would’t recognize weakness in you.  

“It’s not right though,” he said looking you in the eye. “I should never have…”

“No, you shouldn’t, you bastard” you interjected, jaw firmly set at the mention of his cruel treatment. 

Tommy sucked his teeth as he flicked ash into a mug, giving your jab a moment to wash over him before responding. “I suppose I deserve that, but I want to make amends. Can we start fresh?” Tommy asked, blue eyes searching yours intently.

“Yes, I think so,” you agreed reluctantly, unsure how this turn of events had happened.

“Good,” he said with a nod. “Because I’d like to invite you to have a seat at the next family meeting.”

Your head was still swimming with Tommy’s apology so you weren’t quite sure you heard correctly. “What? When?” you sputtered.

“Today, we have to go on the offensive now that the Lees have struck a blow and you’re our best hope of understanding their way of thinking,” Tommy explained. 

You touched the bruise on the right side of your face that was turning to a dark shade of purple, thinking of how your sister was one of them by now. What would your scheming do to her, you wondered?

While you were lost in thought, Tommy leaned forward to examine your swollen wrist and you cried out at his touch. He lifted your hand and moved it carefully to see if there were any broken bones, a skill he’d learned during the war while attending to his men. Nodding thoughtfully he replied, “You’ve got a sprain. You should let me wrap it.” 

“Alright,” you agreed, watching as Tommy fetched a bandage and efficiently went about his work, a fresh cigarette hanging from his lower lip. His touch was surprisingly gentle and your mind wandered to the times you’d watched him with the horses. You recalled how they’d responded to him without the use of a whip, only the sound of his voice over the noise of the scrap metal yard. You couldn’t deny that there was something about his presence in this moment that you found calming.

The roughness of his voice cut the silence as he spoke for the first time since he began tending to you. “I’ll be off to John’s now,” he said with a nod as he stamped out his smoke and before you could ask anything more he was gone, leaving you in quiet contemplation of your new role within the family and everything you thought you knew about Tommy.

————————————-

“Open up!” A voice bellowed out before John’s front door swung open, footsteps falling hard and fast on the stairs leading to the bedroom.

John sat up quickly, pulling the duvet over his naked body before reaching for his revolver on the nightstand. Tommy burst in with John cursing, “Fuck, Tommy! When will you learn to knock?” 

“When will you learn to lock your bloody door? The Lees could still be in town for all we know,” Tommy scolded.

As the brothers argued, the woman beside John began to stir at the sound of their shouting. As she rolled over to face John, Tommy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he caught sight of the woman’s familiar dark curls. John covered her quickly though he knew Tommy had already spied his secretary.

John tossed his gun onto the bedside table as he waved his brother off. “Alright, that’s enough! Get out!”

“Fine, but get dressed quickly. There’s business to discuss,” Tommy said, turning to leave. Then hesitating for a moment he called over his shoulder, “Lizzie, I want you at work by nine!”

She inhaled a sharp breath beneath the covers, embarrassed at being caught in bed with the boss’s younger brother. She’d gone to the Garrison to celebrate the new baby with everyone else from the office, but it was Tommy she’d been after. John just happened to be the brother who stumbled into the snug first.

After donning her dress and shoes, Lizzie leaned over with a warm smile and gave John a tender goodbye kiss. His head pounding from the hangover, he gave her only a sliver of affection in return, the reality of what he’d done hitting him full force. When he closed his eyes the only person he could see was you.

“I’ll be going, but I’d like to do this again. You never call me anymore,” she said biting her lip. Pulling back to study him she noticed John’s baby blue eyes didn’t dance with light as they had the night before.

“Listen, Lizzie…” he began, but Tommy interrupted, calling to him from downstairs. “We’ll talk later, yeah?” he said and she nodded cheerfully before pulling on her heels and clicking down the hall.

By the time John joined Tommy in the kitchen, Tommy was pacing like a wild animal. “Where the fuck were you yesterday, eh?” he asked, pointing a finger at his brother. 

John rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head slightly. He couldn’t think clearly. What had happened? Before he had time to reply, Tommy was stalking toward him angrily. “The betting shop was robbed by the Lees. Y/n and Ada could have been killed because you left your post, John!”

“Oh, fuck off, Tommy!” John replied. “This is not my fault! How was I meant to do collections for Arthur and run the shop? Scudboat was there anyhow,” he asserted, pulling his suspenders up with an annoyed roll of his neck.

“Except he wasn’t. He went to Charlie’s yard for the arrival of the new shipment which is why you were supposed to have been back by four!” Tommy said, slamming the kitchen table with his palm for emphasis. Running a hand through his hair he shook his head muttering, “You never fucking listen.”

John closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, another vision of you suddenly dancing across his eyelids. He’d noticed a deep red mark on your cheek and how you winced when Ada put too much pressure on your hand, but you’d both been so consumed with Ada’s labor. You’d been steadfast delivering the baby, but that was how you were when you were scared, carrying on despite the fear. John’s head shot up as he asked, “Y/n? How is she?”

Tommy let out a heavy sigh as he realized he was finally getting through to his brother, plopping down in a chair he replied, “She has some bruises and a sprained wrist. She was lucky this time, brother, but the danger will increase. The Lees know she gave us information about their operation. They took their money, but now they want blood,” Tommy said ominously. 

John nodded in understanding. He wouldn’t let his concentration lapse again. You were too important and he was determined to do everything in his power to protect you this time. He only needed to bring you home.

———————————————-

The family assembled in the betting shop without noticing you hovering in the corner, feeling woefully out of place. Polly and Arthur were already seated, talking quietly as Polly smoked her clove cigarettes. Lizzie sat with pencil and paper in hand to take notes if necessary, but she didn’t appear nearly as concerned as the others. In fact, she was positively radiant, as though she couldn't stop smiling. You wondered what she had to be so cheerful about, when Isaiah appeared in the doorway, remarking to her, “Looks as though someone had a good night.”

“You know, John,” Lizzie replied with a giggle. Your heart stopped as you watched her bite her lip seductively, wondering what she meant by that. 

Moving to the kitchen to help yourself to a cup of tea, Isaiah sauntered in behind you, clearing his throat to announce his presence. “Why didn’t you come to the Garrison last night?” he asked, leaning against the cupboards with a casual charm he directed at most ladies.

“I was tired. Delivering a baby will do that,” you replied with a smile.

“Of course. John said you were brilliant,” Isaiah complimented you as he removed his cap and smoothed his hair.

“Isaiah, was Lizzie with you and John last night?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

A wide grin spread across Isaiah’s face as he accepted the mug of tea you offered exclaiming, “Yeah, for a bit. Then they told me to piss off. I mean, you know how they are.”

“N-no, I don’t,” you stuttered, hands beginning to tremble around your cup.

“Those two can’t keep their hands off each other! It’s been that way since the war ended. John used to blind her other customers just so he could see her more often,” he said with a laugh. When Isaiah observed your blank expression he continued saying, “You know what Lizzie used to do, don’t you?” 

Shaking your head, you felt your stomach drop and your mouth go dry as he explained their arrangement. Apparently John had been paying her for sex for years. The words stabbed into you as you held yourself up against the cupboards, willing your face not to betray your tender heart in front of a blinder. 

But the terrible feeling of betrayal was overwhelming as you remembered Katie’s words about her father and his whores. You thought John had feelings for you, but clearly you’d been wrong. The pit in your stomach grew as you relived the kiss you shared the night before outside Polly’s house. He must have sensed your hesitation and gone back to someone more experienced and familiar. You felt another twist of the knife as you wondered if he ever wanted you. His brother had forced him to take you in after all and suddenly you felt terribly foolish. Worried your legs might give out at any moment, you excused yourself to take a seat at the table.

The pain only worsened as Lizzie turned to address you with an air of worldly sophistication. “Y/n, it was kind of you to leave John and me last night. One day you’ll see how important it is that a man and a woman have their privacy. I know John appreciates it,” she said with a wink and a knowing smile. As heat seeped into your cheeks with the overwhelming feeling of humiliation, it was almost more than you could bare. Did everyone know John saw you as a child who wasn’t worthy of his attention?

Soon Tommy and John arrived, taking their seats at the table and you found yourself shifting uncomfortably in your seat as you tried to avoid John’s gaze.

As Tommy called the meeting to order you noticed all eyes on you, making you painfully aware that as a non blood relative nor a blinder, you shouldn’t be there. Tommy quickly put everyone’s fears to rest, making it known that he had asked you to be his adviser and no one dared go against Tommy. 

The meeting progressed quickly after that with John proposing an all out war against the Lees. He wanted to see them all cut to ribbons and you could tell by the dangerous gleam in his eye he was more than capable. Lizzie gave him a nod of approval from across the table and your blood boiled at the thought of them discussing strategy together, plotting and scheming as they lay tangled between the sheets. You were past the point of tears by now, coiling your hands into fists below the table.

While no one else came forward with a different thought right away, Arthur quickly agreed to John’s plan. Not one for ideas himself, he went along with the quickest method of handling enemies. 

However, Polly was next to speak and interjected reason before the men could become too blood hungry. “This all began because of greed, Thomas. If we propose to share our contacts with Erasmus and thus the earnings, it might convince them to stop trying to kill us.” You could see Polly favored peace above all else, but you knew Tommy would never settle for half his take. 

Then the idea came to you, born of resentment and retaliation, but an age old solution that would work nonetheless. You knew how to achieve peace if only you could convince your aunt and Tommy.

“There’s another way, but it requires discussion with an elder, my aunt, Zilpha,” you proposed, glancing up at Tommy.

“She’ll see me after everything that’s happened?” Tommy asked, a note of skepticism in his voice.

“No, but she’ll see me,” you promised him. You could see the wheels in his mind turning as he pondered what you might say to your aunt. If he truly trusted you, he would agree to let you speak on their behalf, however. 

With a small nod he agreed. “Alright, I’ll take you tomorrow,” Tommy said. “You’d better get some rest.” And with that, he left everyone in stunned silence, their fate in your hands.

As everyone filed out of the room, John remained, leaning on a desk. When you attempted to walk past, he stopped you, reaching out to capture your arm. “Y/n, wait,” he called out.

Your eyebrows shot up at his request, unsure why he hadn’t dashed out after Lizzie. It seemed her company was what he craved now so why was he here waiting for you? “What is it, John?” you asked, voice tinged with irritation. 

“I wanted to see how you are,” he said, looking you over with what appeared to be genuine concern. His opposite hand traced the bandage that covered your wrist, eyes trained on your injury as though he felt the pain concealed beneath it. 

“I’m fine,” you said, attempting to break away, but John held you to him.

Reaching up to caress your bruised cheek he spoke earnestly, “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I should have been at the shop. If I had been, none of this would have happened.”

“Well you can’t change it now,” you replied, locking eyes with him, wanting to scream at him about Lizzie, but knowing it wouldn’t help.

“Let me at least try to make it up to you,” John pleaded, rubbing his thumb over your hand. “Come home,” he suggested in a voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him.

“Why?” you asked, snatching your hand away.

The biting tone had obviously hurt John, a wounded look crossing his face immediately as he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at the floor. “Because…because the children and I need you,” he reasoned, furrowing his brow. He’d never been good with words, but he hoped you would hear how much he cared for you with that simple phrase.

The words pricked the hairs at the back of your neck, confirming what you already suspected. There was no love there, only a life of convenience. Biting your cheek to keep from crying, you sucked in a quick breath before replying, “I’m sorry, John, but I’m needed elsewhere at the moment.” You turned on your heel and disappeared into the house.

—————————————-

You spent another night at Polly’s, too upset to return to John’s. When you closed the bedroom door before having your dinner, Tommy urged the others not to pry into the cause of  your sudden mood change. He explained there was a long drive ahead of you in the morning and reasoned you must be anxious at the thought of returning to a camp full of angry relatives.

As you drove to the Lee camp in comfortable silence, you were relieved that Tommy wasn’t the curious sort. However, you knew he deserved to hear what you intended on proposing to your aunt so you began explaining your plan for ushering in peace between the two families. While you expected him to question it a bit more, he only chain smoked as he kept his eyes trained on the road. When you’d finished, you swore you heard a low hum of approval emanate from his pursed lips, though you weren’t entirely sure from his stoic expression.

There was no time for doubt in any case as the car jerked to a halt. You exited your side cautiously, eyes scanning the horizon to find men with rifles stood at attention above you. “Slowly now,” Tommy advised as he stooped to gather a stick and dug into his pocket for a white handkerchief to tie at the top. As he walked up the dirt road toward the vardos circled on the ridge, he waved the makeshift flag. You allowed him to lead until he leaned toward you to whisper, “You’re sure you still want to do this? What of your future, eh?” It was the first he had mentioned you in any of the plans and you swallowed harshly at his insinuation that your fate mattered either way.

“Let me worry about that,” you replied stubbornly, marching ahead. Tommy wanted to laugh at your determination, but thought better of it considering the circumstances. He shook his head as he followed after you, admiration for your courage swelling in his throat. 

Zilpha greeted you with a wary expression upon your approach, face as dark and stormy as the clouds overhead threatening rain. Standing at the doorway of her vardo, she refused to descend until you had both been searched for weapons. Although you understood her hesitation, it stung to be treated as a traitor when you still held love for your family. 

When she was satisfied you weren’t there to harm her, she allowed you to ascend the steps and you breathed a sigh of relief when she extended a wrinkled hand to you, pulling you inside.

Despite having convinced her of your own good intentions, Tommy was made to wait outside. You could tell from her knitted brow, he would never gain her full approval and you knew you would have to work hard to sell his good points. 

After the preamble of commenting on your thin frame and offering up a hearty stew, Zilpha asked why you had come and you wasted no time with your appeal. 

“He’s a smart man, aunt. But he needs strong men,” you explained.

“For what?” she asked harshly, turning to face you with such force, her jewelry crashed together creating a tinny clinking that echoed out like a warning.

“Protection for his growing business. They get the winner in one of every three races before the race even starts. No need for chalks or rafflers. It’s a certainty,” you promised her, believing in Tommy’s operations so that she would have faith as well. 

“It sounds like this Shelby man’s got his hooks in ya,” she said, eyeing you suspiciously.

You bristled at her assumptions, holding your head high. “No Shelby has me, aunt. In fact, I have a unique proposal for you to end the war between you and them.”

“And what might that be?” she said, leaning forward elbows on her knees to hear you better.

“Rumors say Erasmus’s cousin Esme has been running wild. If I could promise a good husband for her, would you give Tommy soldiers? If you do, this alliance will make you a rich woman,” you promised.

Zilpha thought for a moment, recalling the trouble she’d had finding a suitable groom to take on the headstrong young woman.

“And what man do you suggest?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at you.

“Tommy’s younger brother, John Shelby,” you said, hoping she didn’t notice the way your voice wavered as you said his name. She hadn’t, too preoccupied by your talk of fortune. Without hesitation, she extended a hand in agreement.  

As you both emerged, Tommy searched your face for a sign that the negotiations had been a success. You gave him a small nod and he turned to Zilpha. “He’ll do then?” Tommy asked.

“Bring him round in a fortnight and it will be done,” Zilpha proclaimed. 

The drive back to Small Heath was cloaked in thick silence as you looked out the passenger window. Exhaustion from the long day was beginning to take hold of you, but something wouldn’t let you give in to the need for rest. Although you hoped your plan of revenge might heal your broken heart, the ache only grew stronger. You didn’t yet know it, but regret would soon take hold and there would be nothing you could do to reverse it. 

——————————————

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[loosesodamarble]

Welcome to the Black Bird Part 4: Wesley the Chilling

Summary: Introducing Nozel as Wesley, the dashing but ice-cold butler from the Black Bird. Genre: general Word count: ~850 A/N: @cringeyvanillamilk is again the artist for this fic's art.

..........

Silver hair spread out around the head like a crown, or perhaps a halo. No, not a halo, as they belonged to spirits that passed on, not this person. Eyes closed as if in sleep. Yes, merely sleep. Arms laid on either side, impossibly still but with a steady pulse felt through warm skin.

Acier Silva slept soundly. As she had been for nearly two years.

Nozel reached out and brushed Acier’s bangs aside. After tucking the strands back, Nozel paused and lamented that it used to be the other way around. Acier had done this very thing for him all his childhood. And now…

“Don’t worry, Mother. It’s my turn to take care of you,” Nozel whispered to her.

Acier didn’t answer of course. She couldn’t but Nozel still spoke to her regularly on the doctor’s suggestion. Outside stimuli was recommended for Acier’s brain activity. The doctor’s also said that it would give Nozel an outlet for his feelings. Even if Nozel’s visits to the hospital helped his mother’s recovery, it didn’t do anything about what caused Acier to fall into her present state. He needed to find out the truth…

Once he left the hospital, Nozel checked his phone and saw a message notification from Dorothy: [update for uuuu~ ( ^ω^ )]

Nozel immediately replied, [What news do you have for me?]

[i found u a job that u might not botch~ ( ✌︎'ω')✌︎] It may have been a text but Nozel could hear Dorothy’s playful voice in his mind.

[You make me sound incompetent and like I’ve never worked a job before.]

[im not totally wrong tho (￣▽￣) u never worked a normie job (*^▽^*)]

Nozel’s eye twitched. Why did his dear friend also have to be a theatrical tease? Still, he replied, [Never mind my job history. What’s the position you found for me?]

[o(^▽^)o ur gonna luv it~]

Coming from Dorothy, the statement wasn’t as comforting to Nozel as it should’ve been.

…..

“One order of the Fairy Spring Tea Set, my lady,” Nozel stated while setting down a three-tiered tray on a table where a single woman with long, chestnut-colored hair. “Do call upon me once you’ve completed your meal.”

“What?” The chestnut-haired woman tucked her hair behind her ears and gave a sharp smile. “You won’t encourage me to enjoy the food? How cold of you, Wesley.”

“I see no reason to doubt the kitchen staff’s work. It’s guaranteed that you’ll enjoy it.”

With that, Nozel turned away. The woman hummed with amusement behind him. Nozel then approached the other table he was attending to. Seated were three women: one with sun-kissed skin and golden hair, one with similarly dark skin but earthy brown locks, and one with silvery-white hair that matched her fair complexion.

“Esteemed mistresses,” Nozel greeted. “I’m Wesley, your attendant for this day.”

“Hiya Wesley,” the blonde tittered with a wide grin. She leaned over to the brunette. “See, I told you he was regal!”

“He certainly has a princely vibe, even as a butler,” the brunette replied, laughing as well.

“To compare to a higher station seems rather inappropriate.” Nozel’s tone was clipped, as he needed to emphasize his coldness. “Regardless, what drinks shall I start you with?”

“Do you perhaps have any recommendations?” the pale-haired woman inquired with a smile that was petite but radiating kindness.

The trio of women were all endeared to Nozel it seemed. And it perplexed him how customers could be entertained by such an attitude. It made more sense than his previous work persona at least. How anyone liked his previous performance, as it was, was beyond him.

…..

Shivering Citrus Delight. A lemon-lime sorbet topped with a crisp waffle cookie.

Nozel understood how the dish, being frozen and having an off-white color which made it appear like a snowball, worked well with his work persona and appearance. The invoking of winter was clear in both Nozel and the dish. However, the bright, citrus flavor of the sorbet brought to mind summertime. Something which Nozel failed to see in himself.

Nozel couldn’t easily share his smile with others. His heart was too heavy with thoughts of Acier’s condition and his mind, too frenzied trying to investigate to be carefree. And instead of being an inviting presence, Nozel distanced himself from his family. He wouldn’t allow his younger siblings to be dragged down by responsibilities and burdens meant for him alone.

Winter and summer in one. An ideal that Nozel saw as illogical. Or rather, unattainable…

There was no summer in Nozel to thaw him from the winter he isolated his heart in. And there likely were no answers awaiting him, despite his bided time.

A sour, perhaps even bitter, feeling welled up in Nozel’s mind.

Has this all been a waste? Have I wasted myself? Nozel bit his cheek and kept his face neutral despite feeling the need to scowl.

Nozel set down his serving tray. When he did, the cookie that came with the Citrus Delight tipped and fell onto the tray, crumbling. He muttered an apology to his customers.

Nozel was frustrated. He, too, felt close to crumbling.

[veterancoffeemaker]

Hero: Do your worst, you won’t get a word from me!

Villain: Oh, don’t worry, I have ways of making people talk. Believe me, it always succeeds.

Hero: (Grins) Enjoy your arrogance while it lasts; from here your record is about to end.

Villain: Nice to see you’re so confident, but I’m afraid it won’t help—not when I have this! (Pulls out computer)

Hero: My laptop? You fiend! Breaking into my home and—

Villain: No, you just left it behind last time after your “heroic escape”.

Hero: W-well, you can’t log in! So what use is it?

Villain: Your password was “password1”, I’m already in… what else did you expect?

Hero: I… was kind of going for the “so obvious nobody would expect it” approach…

Villain: And look where that got you. Now… I’m afraid you’ll have to speak; otherwise, I’m afraid that, well… it would be a shame if any private information on this device happened to find its way online, no?

Hero: You may have my computer, but, unfortunately for you, I know there’s nothing of use on it.

Villain: Let’s see about that…

Hero: Try it, search every file, every part of my browsing history. I regularly check to make sure it’s all clear. I know you’ll find noth—

Villain: (Grinning) Ohhh, what’s this? Fanfiction and AO3? And you’re logged in?!? Well, well, well, what do we have here?

Hero: W-wait, I forgot to log out? Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Villain: Ha! Oh, this is gold! Everyone will find out that you’re actually… y-you’re… (eyes widen and mouth drops) you’re BendeeNoodlz17?!?

Hero: (blushing) I, uh…

Villain: You wrote that incredible Meloble ship fic for The Adventures of Glassy the Glass Glass?!??

Hero: You… you read it? And… y-you think it’s incredible…?

Villain: Well, uh… yes? I mean… from what you did, at least. Just given you never finished it and all.

Hero: I’ve been busy, okay? You’ve made sure of that…

Villain: Then you should’ve told me! I would’ve gladly put all this villainy stuff off for a few years—heck, even a decade—if it meant you’d finish it!

Hero: Seriously? That’s… hold on… are you Larlainy6?

Villain: (Blushing) That’s… how would you know that name?

Hero: You were the guy who always commented on every chapter with nothing but praise and encouragement! How could I forget?

Villain: Oh… r-really?

Hero: Yeah, some of them were seriously touching. Sometimes I even read them again as encouragement, motivating me to continue. I never thought they’d have been from… you…

Villain: W-well, it was a very good fic…

Hero: …

Villain: …

Hero: …

Villain: Let’s keep all this between us…

Hero: Agreed… but, uh, what about this whole… torture-interrogation thing?

Villain: … I’ll let you go if you promise to update the fic.

Hero: Deal.

[new-and-disturbed-theorist]

In unrelated news…

I just posted my first JD fic! It’s a superhero AU with a bunch of coach cameos from the other games. I won’t update it regularly since I have a project, a play, and graduation stuff that I still have to work through, but the important parts of the plot are outlined and I have a couple of chapters already written. Hopefully this is a fic that may ease the current anxieties going around.

Summary:

In the daytime, Wanderlust and his friends are normal students in Just Dance High School. But at night, they become the Just Dancers, a team of superheroes determined to save the Danceverses and their citizens from evil. While they're used to fighting the average supervillain, this new foe only known as the "Night Swan" may look to be their toughest enemy as of late, her kidnapping of coaches possibly leading to something more sinister.

But with this evil threat, Wanderlust can only seem to think about the Swan Prince, the Night Swan's enigmatic and mysterious right hand man. And when new student Jack Rose enters his life, he doesn't know how many mysteries will take before he's unable to function.

[wzrd-wheezes]

Hey!!! Can I request an arranged engagement with James because they grew up in wealthy families and they're close friends but as she gets to know the boys better Sirius falls in love with her? Mutual pining with obstacles with be the death of me.

The Engagement Arrangement: Part 1 - James Potter x Reader. Sirius Black x Reader.

AN - I really loved this request so this has been turned into a multipart fic that I'll try and update as regularly as I can. Please give it a reblog and let me know if you want me to do a part 2. Thank you for sending in this lovely request!

1.9k words.

The engine of the car hummed quietly causing the window to vibrate as Y/N rested her head against the glass. She fiddled with the hem of her dress as she gazed out of the window, the trees a blur of red and orange as they whizzed past. 

“Will you stop fiddling with your dress!” Y/N’s mother snapped, whipping her head around to glare at her daughter, “I won’t have you at the Potter’s house with your dress all creased, what will they think of us!?” 

Y/N only murmured in response, barely paying attention to her mother’s nagging as she smoothed her dress out. The car pulled to a stop on the gravel driveway outside of the Potter’s manor. The autumn sunlight beat down on the vast lawns and bounced off of the ornate windows, casting patterns on the driveway. She sighed as she got out of the car, mentally preparing herself for the afternoon at the Potter’s.  

Coming to the Potter’s house for lunch wasn’t a frequent occurrence, yet every time their car pulled up outside, Y/N filled with dread. The lunches were alarmingly boring with her parents talking tirelessly with Mr and Mrs Potter. The Potter’s had a son, who Y/N was yet to meet as he attended a boarding school. Y/N’s mother had explained to her that James had been sent to boarding school as he was rather unruly, and they were trying to get him to settle down. However, now that he, like Y/N was 18, had finished school and returned home. 

Mrs Potter greeted them graciously at the front door, giving her parents a hug and Y/N a squeeze on the shoulder. She led them into the sitting room and began to bustle around making tea. Y/N perched on the edge of the sofa, trying to avoid crumpling her dress and infuriating her mother again. Just as she had done in the car, Y/N stared out of the window, her eyes drifting over the garden that seemed to sprawl for miles. Leaves floated down from the trees, landing in a pile on the floor before being dispersed by the soft breeze.  

“Nice of you to finally join us, Son.” Mr Potter spoke, easy smile resting on his face. Y/N was pulled out of her daydream, her eyes darting towards the door where a young man was standing, leaning lazily against the door frame. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his slacks, the top button of his shirt undone and his dark curls falling messily into his eyes. 

“Mr and Mrs L/N.” he nodded, “Nice to see you both again.” 

“Ah, James.” Y/N’s father exclaimed, “It’s been a while! You must have grown a good few feet taller since we last saw you.” 

“My career as a dwarf never really took off so I decided to just let it go.” James joked, earning himself a disapproving look from both of his parents. 

“James,” Y/N’s mother swiftly interjected, “You haven’t met our daughter, Y/N. She’s just finished school as well. I’m sure you’ll both get along well.” 

“Nice to meet you,” James grinned, stepping into the room and shaking Y/N’s hand. Y/N just smiled back at him, unsure of what to say. Her mother harshly nudged her leg, urging her to reply. 

“Yeah. You as well.” 

James plonked himself in the armchair in front of the window that Y/N was previously looking out of. She frowned slightly, annoyed that he was obstructing not only the view but also the distraction from the torturously boring conversation that their parents were having. The two teenagers sat silently, every so often glancing up at each other. One time, James rolled his eyes and mimed putting a gun to his head, Y/N had to try her best to stifle a laugh. Clearly, she didn’t try hard enough as she was shot another one of her mother’s infamous disapproving looks. 

“James, dear, why don’t you go and show Y/N around the gardens while we talk? We have some important business to discuss, and it will be terribly boring for you both.” James’ mother suggested. Y/N let out a sigh of relief and eagerly stood up, grabbing her jacket from the coat stand. 

For the first few moments, they didn’t speak a word to each other, just silently making their way through the hall towards the large front door, buttoning up their coats as they walked. It was only when they were out of earshot that James finally spoke. 

“I didn’t think it was possible to die of boredom, but I genuinely think I was close.” He said dramatically.  

“We were only sat in there for half an hour.” Y/N said, raising an eyebrow at him.  

“Yet it felt like an eternity.” 

James pushed open the front door and they were greeted by the crisp autumn air. Their breaths clouded in the chill, damp air and they both wrapped their coats a little tighter around themselves.  

“What d’you reckon they’re talking about?” Y/N asked, “What’s so important that we can’t be there to hear them discuss it?” James shrugged, staring up at the cloudless sky. 

“Who knows? Probably just boring adult stuff. I tend to just tune it out whenever they start speaking.” Despite his nonchalant response, there was a hint of wistfulness in his expression. It was almost as if the thought of having a genuine adult conversation with his parents seemed utterly foreign and unappealing to him. 

“They’re probably just sat moaning about us.” Y/N laughed, “That’s what adults do when they get together, isn’t it? Moan about their children?” 

“Nah, not my mum and dad. They genuinely think the sun shines out of my arse.” James chuckled. 

“Didn’t they ship you off to boarding school because you were too ‘unruly’” Y/N said, making air quotes with her fingers. James’ cheeks flushed at her comment and he let out an awkward chuckle. 

“Yeah, that was a bit of an exaggeration on mum and dad’s behalf. They made it sound like I was some feral child. In reality, I was just a normal kid who liked to have fun.” 

Y/N felt a bit guilty for poking fun at him about the boarding school ordeal. It seemed to be a bit of a sore spot for him, despite how flippantly he brushed it off. 

“They didn’t have to be so dramatic,” James continued, “But it’s all in the past now. I’m back home and everything’s fine/” He shrugged, the smile returning to his face. Y/N wasn’t quite so sure how accurate that statement one. 

They chatted as they walked through the gardens, comparing their school experiences, talking about their upbringings and their parents. Y/N felt sad that James had been away for the majority of their childhood, it would have made the many dinners with their parents a lot less painful if she had had someone her own age there to speak to.  

The more time that Y/N spent in James’s company, the more she realised just how much they had in common. They had similar senses of humour, enjoyed engaging in sarcastic banter and had a mutual disdain for the social niceties that dominated their families’ get-together. For his part, James enjoyed speaking with Y/N as well. Unlike with the adults in his life, he didn’t have to keep up an exhausting façade. He could be frank with her and didn’t have to worry about offending her with his snarky wit. 

The conversation turned back to the topic of their schooling. Y/N described her school life and her friends, while James told stories of pranking students and teacher alike, and generally being a nuisance. James had a twinkle in his eye as he recounted some of his more mischievous antics. It was clear that he had no regrets and was, in fact, quite proud of all the trouble he had gotten into over the years.  

“I’m pretty sure I was on my last chance before they got rid of me,” he admitted as they walked back to the house, “In our final year, my friends and I were planning to pull a big stunt during exam week, it would have definitely gotten us kicked out. Only, my friend Peter ended up talking us out of it in the end. Probably for the best.” As he finished speaking a hint of regret crossed his face. 

When they finally returned to the house, having been gone a good hour or so, they found their parents still sat in the same spot they were in before they had left. It looked as though time had stood still while they were outside. 

“Ah, there you two are! We were just about to send someone out to find you! We really need to talk to you both, if you wouldn’t mind sitting down for a moment.” Mrs Potter smiled. James sighed inwardly and shot Y/N an apologetic look. Just when he had been enjoying himself, their parents’ demands had sent him back to reality.  

“We’ve been discussing the future,” Y/N’s father began, “And now you have both finished school we believe it’s time to start making preparations for the future.”  

Y/N and James both leaned forward in their chairs, intrigued by what their parents had to say. James let out a nervous chuckle, not sure what Y/N’s father meant by that.  

“Preparations for the future?” he repeated, turning to look at his own father, “What do you mean? Like, getting involved in the family business or something?” 

“Not particularly.” James’s father said. 

“You’re both intelligent, young individuals with bright futures ahead of you. The pair of you both come from good families, and we think it’s time that the two of you started settling down.” Y/N’s mother explained. 

Both Y/N and James sat there in stunned silence, their minds racing to try and figure out exactly what their parents were talking about.  

“You’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?” James asked, not wanting to believe it, “You’re seriously suggesting that at the ripe old age of 18, we get married to each other?” The words were out of his mouth before he had even fully formed the thought. 

“That’s ridiculous!” Y/N exclaimed, “You can’t just arrange our romance like we’re some sort of commodity. That’s absurd!” The notion of being forced into a relationship with James with utterly foreign to her, especially since they had only met mere hours ago. Mrs Potter looked at them both with a stern expression. 

“This isn’t something that we’ve considered lightly.” she said, in a tone that left no room for argument, “We believe that the two of you will make a wonderful couple, and with time may even grow to love each other.” 

“There is much more than that to our proposal,” James’s father said solemnly, “It’s not just about romance. In this particular case, settling down is more about stability.” 

James and Y/N just stared at each other, feeling the full weight of their parents’ decision bearing down on their shoulders.  

“But what about what we want?” James snapped, gesturing to the two of them. 

“At the end of the day, this isn’t about what you want.” Mr Potter shook his head, “This is about your families and their futures, not just your own selfish desires.” 

The statement hit both of them hard, and for a moment, the two teenagers were completely stunned. Their own family was more important than their own happiness, their own dreams. The harsh reality of their situation slowly began to sink in, and the weight of the responsibility felt nearly too heavy for them to bear. 

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

I desperately want oblivious!Buddie to play out for just a LITTLE longer so we get some “off-screen” gems. As in, absolutely bonkers events and quirks that we don’t currently know, but slowly find out before the boys figure THEM out. Such as Buddie grocery shopping together, Buck knowing Chris’ (AND Eddie’s) SSN, Chris having Buck’s phone number memorized because he didn’t have a phone when they first met and would call him on the house phone like for the Hildy prank, Chris has called Buck his dad to one of the firefam or Carla, Buck and Abuela have weekly phone calls now that she lives in Texas, Eddie is Buck’s POA (and vice versa), Eddie has a second pair of keys to Buck’s Jeep (Buck doesn’t for Eddie’s truck ONLY because Eddie is a passenger princess and if he’s not the one driving his truck then he just hands his keys off to Buck anyway), as early as late season 3 Christopher was drawing Buck into his family portraits (bonus points if it’s before the well happened), Buck has Christopher’s drawings on his loft fridge, Buck uses the family calendar on Eddie’s fridge too, Eddie specifically doesn’t buy certain foods because Buck has a food restriction that the Diazes do NOT also have (canon vegan Buck anyone?), Buck picks Christopher up from school enough to be known to both the teachers AND administration, they have a shared google calendar that Eddie hates (technophobe) but Buck updates regularly, there hasn’t been a week where Buck hasn’t stayed the night at least once at the Diazes since the lawsuit (yes, even through the divorce arc idc, let me live).

The whole “didn’t know they were dating” thing is becoming more and more appealing to me for Buddie with every passing minute, and I just think it would be funny if we got Hen or Maddie or even Christopher to call them out on little things like this that they do that they didn’t really think hard enough about to realize it was partner shit, not best friend shit. Plus, I know a lot of people want Buddie NOW because of Buck being canonically bi, but I’m still happy to wait a little longer if it means giving both characters the patience and care their stories deserve. ABC making them canon the very first season after the network switch WOULD be iconic, but given that I’ve been both ecstatic and nervous about Buddie after last Thursday’s episode, I think they should pace it. Give them both full realizations about their sexualities, a lil crisis about it for each too, maybe a different man or two before each other, the jealousy they’re BOTH now famous for, just a pinch more therapy about the shock of it all, and then somebody or something to knock their heads together and make them realize that their partner has been right there all along.

Honestly, I won’t lie and say that some of these aren’t based off of fics I’ve read, but they’re also so basic to Buddie that I couldn’t tell you specific fics, and I also definitely tried to come up with some that aren’t from fics in my memory, but claim them if you want lol, I don’t mind

[harmslength]

WE ARE SO BACK!

(we are so not back)

Hello lovelies!

I just wanted to write this as deep and loving thank you to everyone who has supported me, welcomed me and to the people who have been patiently waiting for new fics.

I’ve recently reached 100 followers and over 140k messages on c.ai. I just want to let you guys know how much this fucking means to me!!!!!!! AHHH I’m literally so pumped about it, like genuinely this fills my heart with so much joy. You guys make it so easy to want to keep making stuff and ugh I can’t even describe it.

I won’t yap too much about this though. Becauuuuuseee as a thank you I’m finally releasing more shit!! Yaaaaayy! (Bout’ fucking time)

First — A new Neil Lewis fic which you can read HERE. Purely smut, not a whole lot of plot to it. Definitely read the tags though…

Second — I’m releasing a few new characters for c.ai.

We’ve got:

Jim — from The Delinquent Season: you’re his new babysitter. Jim does have a wife in this so just be warned that he may try some morally corrupt things.

Cillian Murphy: fallen angel AU. He was banished from heaven and placed right on your door step. Will he return to heaven? Who’s to say. Probably not after what you’re going to do to him.

Jonathan Crane — from you already know: Dr. Crane is your therapist. Do what you will with that.

John Skillpa — from Peacock: You and John are long-time friends. John probably isn’t doing too well. Sorry John! I love him so much.

And of course, one that always pairs with the story I’ve written! Neil Lewis — from Watching the Detectives: You and Neil have just gotten engaged and are looking to grow and expand your lives together. How romantic.

Anyways I just want to add this last bit under the cut since this has been such an unbelievably long post. If you’ve gotten this far—thank you. And if you haven’t well, I don’t blame you one bit.

I just want to say that I’m back, I’m here but I will probably not be posting regularly at all. I got clinical major depression and a full time job that I hate so writing comes and goes as it pleases.

To add to that though I do have a lot of really fun fics in the works that I’m really fucking excited to share with you all. I’ve been trying to get more comfortable with writing shorter stuff but I have this problem where I just cant write anything shorter than like 5k, I don’t know I think I need to see a doctor..

Anyways I just want to top this off with saying again that I adore you guys so much. All the comments and messages I have received over the past few months have made me so happy. I’d love to talk to more of you and meet more people so please don’t be afraid or hesitant to reach out! I bite but I promise I just got my rabies vaccine updated. Tootles!

[chuluoyi]

LOVER'S PLAYLIST

“can i go where you go? can we always be this close, forever and ever?”

a little thank you from me to you—for all the love and interactions for my silly little blog during two months of me being here!

[ status : closed ! ]

1K MILESTONE EVENT PLAYLIST

. . .

NOTE ok first thing first, this is long overdue already bcs now i've gone past 1k—it's now 1.5k! thank u sm aaa <3 i never expected this. i still think my writing is kinda average and all but thank u for all kind words and interacting with me!

so what is this event? simple. pick your fave, prompt, setting, add your idea—then send it straight to my askbox!

how does it work? let us get a move on...

INFO

i will write 7 fics, ranging from 2k ~ 5k words, and mostly made up of angst, fluff or a combination of both

i will choose from what’s been sent to my askbox. so it’s possible for me to combine two similar requests or drop it (sorry!)

each prompt and setting can only be used once. i'll regularly update this post to cross out prompts and settings that are already taken!

anons are allowed, but since this is a followers event, i’ll prioritize the ones who choose to be off anons—i appreciate you for doing so!

with the speed of my writing, as always, please kindly expect delayed releases. there are still weekly series and regular requests—ah, you just have to make me reach 1k now, don’t you? :')) and now it’s 1.5k… really, love y'all!🫶🏻

now on to ordering...

HOW TO ORDER the format: character — prompts — setting — additional ideas

✧ pick your character ! for this event, the character roster are limited to:

✧ pick your prompts ! rules: max up to 3

1. “nah, i’d win.” 2. “i can show you incredible things.” 3. “i just have to ask. will you go out with me?” 4. “you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.” 5. “i will protect you.” 6. “why did you do that?!” 7. “we are getting a divorce.” 8. “shut up and kiss me.” 9. “you have been kind of obvious.” 10. “if you feel safer with me being here, then i’ll be here.” 11. “it’s me and not him!” 12. “i suck at telling people my feelings, but i love you. i still do.” 13. “i can't do this anymore.” 14. “don't act innocent when we both know what filth come out of your mouth just five minutes ago.” 15. “tell me the truth. what are we?”

✧ choose your setting ! rules: max up to 1

♡ happy marriage: you are married to the love of your life♡ married on purpose: marriage of convenience with your enemy seems to be what would solve your problems right now ♡ lover’s quarrel: fights, words you don’t mean—is this what it takes for your relationship to end?

ah i ran out of ideas. i’m opening the last four slots to cater to your desired ideas—give me your best!

✧ lastly, shoot it right to my askbox! please tell me it’s for the event so i won’t confuse it with the regular requests! add your own idea too while at it, it'll be waaay more helpful!

if you want to use the available setting:

e.g. “for 1k event, gojo — prompt x and x — married on purpose — and i have an idea: yadda yadda yadda

if you want to suggest your own setting:

e.g. “for 1k event, megumi — prompt x — and i have a suggestion: yadda yadda yadda and it should be yadda yadda yadda

end of the word, thank you again for 1.5k!🫶🏻 if you have any questions regarding this event, feel free to ask me! hope you'll enjoy the 7 upcoming fics from this event!