#just don’t expect anything canon and we’re good :>

[the-travelling-witch]

why did i have to pick the place with the most convoluted lore as a setting huh

AND YES IT‘S KHAENRI‘AH

[mostly-imagines]

The Arkham Knight

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the arkham knight goes after the crevice in the red hoods armor

warnings: typical canon violence, threats to the reader including death & implied sa, nonconsensual touching for reader (not nsfw), reader gets cut with a knife, character death (not reader or jason), angst w comfort

**for the sake of this, we're going to pretend that the arkham knight isn't jason -- or that he's from an alternate universe or something if you prefer. in any case, red hood & the arkham knight co-exist in this fic

You wake up to a sensation that takes you a moment to place. Your eyes are still closed and the word conscious is barely even applicable to you, but still, you feel it.    

There’s a hand wrapped around your neck.

Given that it's about one in the morning at this point and it’s not uncommon for your boyfriend to get very touchy after coming home from patrol, you didn’t dwell much on it.

His thumb strokes across your skin delicately, applying no real force with his grip.

You don’t feel his arm, though. Usually, you’d expect to feel the weight of at least his arm on you, as he laid next to you, hand resting on your neck. But you just feel his hand. No other weight on the bed at all, actually. Like he’s standing next to it.

That is something to dwell on, you think. You open your eyes and almost scream, before the hand on your neck swiftly clamps down over your mouth.

“Shhh.” he hushes. 

You probably wouldn’t be too much less scared if it were some random burglar, but it’s not. You look at the helmet hovering above you and you recognize it instantly. That’s the Arkham Knight. Jason hadn’t said much about him but you know he’s been having altercations with him recently from the news.

Standard enough.

What’s not so standard is one of Red Hood’s enemies in your apartment, in your bedroom. That means he knows who Jason is. Not good. Not good at all.

The Knight uses his free hand to yank you up by your arm into a sitting position. Your thoughts are still going a mile a minute trying to process what the hell is happening when he hauls you over his shoulder.

You start to fight back, thrashing in his hold and hitting his back with as much force as you can muster, but you’re not surprised it doesn’t do much. This guy’s as big as Jason and it doesn’t take a vigilante to figure out that this is a fight you can’t win.

He jostles you on his shoulder a little bit, murmuring, “Easy, sweetheart. We’re just going on a little trip.”

You continue struggling against him and when you reach the apartment building hallway you start shouting, though you’re quickly shut up by him.

He plops you down on your feet, hands gripping your shoulders tightly. “Don’t make me hurt you.” He warns with venom. 

If you’re going to get away it could only be now. But you saw the gun holstered to his thigh and based on the little that you know about him, he will shoot anyone that tries to help you without hesitation. 

So you let him shove you outside and into the backseat of a black car without a fight, only starting to feel the consequences with the way he holds you incredibly close with a tight grip throughout the ride.

You end up at a warehouse at the edge of the city, filled with crates and storage containers that you’re assuming are stocked with weapons. Soldiers line the perimeters and block the exits, though you didn’t have much of a mind to try and run from the Arkham Knight anyways. The metallic glint off his gun from the lights warn you every time he moves.

He has you sat on a chair as he leans against a crate in front of you, not bothering to have tied your hands. He doesn’t seem to be in any rush to do anything with you, if anything, the way he idly lazes implies that he’s waiting for something. Waiting for Jason, you’d guess. A long fifteen or so minutes goes by—you know so because you counted the seconds in your head as an attempt to keep your mind away from the killer in front of you.

You’re dressed only in a loose t-shirt and sleep shorts, the Gotham night air bitter on your skin. It only gives you all the more reason to curl up into yourself, doing your best to cover your body. 

He tilts your face to the side with the barrel of his gun. “You are a pretty thing, aren’t you? I can see why he keeps you.”

You snap your head away, eyes down and looking to the concrete floor. The sleeve of your shirt slips from your shoulder and you quickly yank it back up, much to the amusement of the Knight.

His shoulders shake lightly as he relaxes the gun to his side, “So, what? S’he your boyfriend or r’you just fucking each other?”

You try to keep your face neutral, keeping your eyes glued on the ground. “I just help patch him up sometimes. I don’t even know who he is.”

He takes a deep breath. “I’m going to ignore the fact that you just lied to me, but only because I already know the answer.” He pulls you in close and kisses the side of your head with his helmet before whispering in your ear, “Don’t lie to me again.”

You try not to let your shoulders shake as bad as they want to, though you’re sure he knows exactly how frightened you are anyways.

You huff quietly, attempting to show more courage than you have. “So what, all this for ransom? Just to piss him off?”

He tilts his head at you wryly, “No, I’m going to put a bullet in his head.”

Your mouth snaps shut.

“Ah. Yeah, if you were just fucking you wouldn’t have that look on your face right now.” He tuts, patting your cheek.

A series of gunshots outside the warehouse has you jumping in your seat.

The Knight claps his hands together, “Oh, here we go!”

He stands abruptly and pulls you up with him roughly, wrapping his arms around you to pin you against his chest, resting the chin of his helmet on your shoulder. The few men scattered around the room drop one by one, quickly, though the Arkham Knight pays them no regard.

“Back away from her.” The modulated voice of his helmet calls out sharply. You can’t quite tell where he is, but he sounds up high—maybe in the rafters or set up at one of the windows.

“Easy, Hood. Pays to be mindful of the stakes.” He pushes your chin up with the barrel of the gun.

You can’t see him but you have a feeling he’s got his gun trained on you, waiting for the Knight to give him a decent shot.

You can tell how incensed he is, even from the distance as he shouts, “Put the gun down. Now.”

The Knight tsks, “Don’t make me do something I’ll kind of regret. She’s got too pretty of a face to die so soon.” He squeezes your cheeks as you try to pull your head away from his hands, with no avail. “And so messy.”

His free hand travels down your neck and squeezes. You try not to look scared, both to spite the Knight and for the sake of Jason’s concentration.

He backs you up into a mess of crates, gun persistently pointed to your head, and he yanks you down with him to duck behind them. You’re both mostly obscured from view, though you think the tops of your heads might still be visible from the angle Jason’s at.

“I’m not asking twice.”

The Knight ignores his threat, continuing on, “No, no, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of her for you, Hood. She won’t miss a thing.” His glove drifts down your side, squeezing your waist.

Jason fires again, hitting startlingly close to the Knight’s head.

You take the momentary distraction to knee him in the groin which only makes him tighten his grip on you. “Oh, you…” he grunts. “You are a fighter, aren’t you?”

You sneer at him, “Fuck—” he yanks your hair roughly, pulling you into a better angle for him to hold onto you. “You.”

He squeezes your arm very hard, calling out, “On second thought, Jace, I’m thinking about cutting her open and letting her bleed out right here.”

He puts his gun in the holster before one of his hands pulls the bottom of your shirt up, the other flipping out a blade that he presses flat against your stomach. The knife is cold against your skin and the sensation is what allows you to finally admit to yourself that you’re scared.

This is somehow a hell of a lot more terrifying than the gun and you can’t swallow the fact that you’re one unlucky move away from being gutted in an abandoned warehouse at the edge of Gotham. Jason’s quiet and you can’t be sure that he’s not injured or stuck dealing with more soldiers. You visibly shake at the thought of really being on your own now.

The Knight clicks his tongue, tilting his head down at you as he watches you tremble. “Aw, I’m sorry. Am I scaring you?” He knicks your skin, purring, “It’s not personal, sweetheart.” He lets the blade drag a bit, widening the size of the cut. “Well, not for you.”

You grimace at the feeling of being sliced open, trying your hardest not to give him any reaction. Your body involuntarily slides down to the ground until you’re on your back with him crouched above you. 

He pulls the knife back and you both take in the sight of your blood lining the side of it. Your eyes well with tears as he points the end of the knife down at your stomach, readying to pierce your skin in a far less superficial way.

A gunshot fires far closer than you were prepared for, making your entire body jump. The fear becomes visceral then, because your automatic reaction to the noise was to assume that you had just been shot by the Arkham Knight. But in actuality, the Knight himself gets knocked to the floor, the shot having hit the side of his helmet. A flash of red out of the corner of your eye has you flinching, though it darts right past you and onto the Knight.

Hood slams him fully onto the ground by the shoulders, trying to remove his helmet so he can fire a shot that's actually effective. The Knight fights against him, pushing him off of him and reaching to draw his own gun.

You’re dragging yourself backwards, crawling away to safety. You keep going until you can’t see them anymore; you’re too scared to see it play out, too scared to help, too scared to think.

The clamor of grunts and punches landing drowns your senses as you try to fold in on yourself into the smallest ball possible on pure instinct.

A shot fires, though the sounds of struggling persist. Another shot, followed by a curse that you can’t make out who it came from. You can see debris littering the air around one of the crates where one of the shots must have hit. A few seconds go by before a third shot echoes out and the scuffle slows to a halt.

It’s quiet for the longest few moments of your life and in the panic, you begin to lose all sense of what you’re waiting for. You forget to look up when you hear someone approaching you rapidly, only finding cessation to your concern when a pair of hands grabs your face, pulling your head up so he can see you.

You’re only barely able to process that it’s your boyfriend knelt in front of you, blood splattered on his armor. You know this is good, you’re grateful to see him, but you can’t feel anything but panic.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, taking in your emotional state. “Are you hurt?” His helmet scans over you frantically, hands trying their best to remain gentle on your face.

You try, but you can’t push the words out of your mouth.

Honestly, you just want to see him, see his face so you can start to feel safe again. But the sight of another inanimate helmet is doing nothing to calm you, in spite of you wholeheartedly trusting the person under it with your life.

His gaze finds the small pool of blood seeping through your shirt. He rushes to lift your shirt up, fussing over the laceration. It’s about two inches wide, but it’s shallow enough that it won’t need stitches. Once he determines that you don’t need immediate medical attention, he drops your shirt back down, leveling his face to yours.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers desperately, “Baby. Talk to me,” he brushes hair out of your face gently and the contact makes you jump on instinct, your adrenaline nowhere near lowering. If you were in any real state of mind right now you’d feel awful for flinching like that when he touched you, you know exactly how sensitive that is for him. But right now, you didn’t even completely register that it was him that touched you.

Your eyes stay fixed on the concrete and the only response you can manage is a strangled hum and a shake of your head, no I can’t talk right now not right now not now

“Okay. Okay,” he lifts you up off the ground from your knees and holds you close, like he’s trying to prevent you from disappearing again. You’re staring blankly at his glove holding up your thigh, trying to center your focus on that instead of all the bodies in your peripheral or the memory of the blade pressed against your abdomen.

You don’t notice it, but he’s looking down at you constantly, scanning your face for anything, any signs of change.

The entire ride back to your apartment you’ve got a death grip around his torso and he’s thankful for it because he can’t have his hands on you while he’s driving the bike.

He gently helps you inside, handling you like your bones are made of float glass. His helmet finally comes off once you’re back home, but you’re a bit too out of it to even notice.

The wave of lucid emotions don’t kick in until he sets you gently on the bed and you realize you’re back in the place where you woke up to his hand around your throat. You can feel the bottom of your shirt sticking to your skin, the blood slowly starting to dry.

The tears fall before you could even realize that your eyes started watering and Jason could swear on his life that he physically felt his heart break. 

You feel like a little kid the way you cry, chin low and shoulders shaking. You don’t even know what you want, what could possibly help right now.

“Can I touch you?” He asks in a strangled whisper, desperate to try anything he can to make this better for you. He absolutely hates that you have to be in such distress because of something that he brought into your life, something that he should’ve been able to prevent. He’d rather relive all his worst days again and again than see you so pained ever again.

You give no response so he takes the chance and does it anyway because he can’t stand to see you hurting so badly and while he just sits here watching. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap and into his chest. Thankfully, you respond in kind and squeeze your arms around him tightly, sobbing harder.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He presses his mouth against your head, trying to keep it together as you shake in his hold.

He won’t tell you this, especially not right now, but he was absolutely terrified. He couldn’t have gotten home more than ten minutes after you’d left, being met with little things ever so slightly out of place. The bedroom door ajar, when you usually keep it closed. The lamp in the living room that you always leave on for him was off. The bolt on the door was broken, the turn locks unlocked.

He’s panicked plenty of times before in false alarms, thinking you were gone or dead when in reality you’d just been tired and skipped a few steps in your nightly routine. So he kept his thoughts at bay as he crept into the bedroom, opening the door to find the bed empty, sheets oddly messy. He booked it down the hall and checked the bathroom, checked the spare room. Nothing. He’d whipped his phone out immediately and could literally feel his stomach drop when he heard your phone ringing in the bedroom.

It didn’t take him long to piece together what had happened, who had taken you. He’d been having increasing altercations with the Arkham Knight lately and they were beginning to get very annoyed with each other. Occasional accidental run-ins had given way to full on ambushes and planned assaults, leading both of the men to lose their patience quickly.

A couple nights earlier, mid-shootout, The Knight had shouted out something that should’ve raised flags for Jason. “I’d hate to let this get personal,” he’d said.

But he was in the heat of the fight and barely even allowed himself to register the words, let alone sift through their implication. That’s no excuse though, is it? He’s supposed to keep you safe, that’s his job—that’s his only job. He should’ve seen the tail that was following him, he should’ve installed better security measures at your apartment, he should’ve checked on you, should’ve stayed with you, should’ve left you alone all together. But he was selfish and careless and now you’re bleeding and traumatized from being pulled from your bed in the middle of the night, having a gun pushed in your face, and being cut by a psychopath.

You sit on his lap, completely zeroed in on the feeling of his touch and how drastically different it resonates than the Knight’s burning hold on you. Jason’s hands on you don’t have that scorching fire sensation, but warm and comforting like an emergency blanket. You can feel his Red Hood armor pressing into you uncomfortably, but you want more of it. You need more. You can’t possibly get enough of it right now. 

“Please hold me tighter,” you pipe up for the first time in several minutes, your words are hushed and exerted. It makes you sound like you’re hiding, trying not to be caught.

He nearly squeezes the breath out of your lungs and it’s still not tight enough. The tears run out soon after and you sit lax against him. You focus on the feeling of his breath against you, his exhale wavering your hair a little. His breath is steadier than yours and you try to match up with him, but you’ve found that even in normal times, his breathing is always a little slower than yours.   

There’s a nearly imperceptible creak of a floorboard in your living room that has you jolting in Jason’s lap. His head snaps up, one of his hands immediately flying to your hair. His hold prevents you from turning your head, though you're not sure you even want to. You prepare yourself for the sound of gunshots, modulated voices, punches landing.  

You’re confused when Jason remains stationary on the bed and he relaxes slightly. A few long seconds go by before he calls out lowly, “Go.” 

His posture loosens again a moment later and though you don’t hear the intruder retreat, you’ll later realize that was your biggest clue as to who it was. But for right now, you bury your face as deep into his neck as you can, letting him run his finger through your hair in an attempt to cancel out the brief adrenaline jump you just got.

His next words come at a volume so low you nearly miss them all together. “Did he touch you?” He sounds like he’s biting back nausea at the thought.

“No. Not like that.” you mumble back, just as quiet. Your voice is more detached than his, and while the words themselves are a relief, your tone makes him hurt inside.

His head drops against your shoulder for a second before he glances up at the door again, letting out a tense exhale. “I…fuck. Can I…I need to go in the living room for a second. Just a second.”  

The thought of being separated from him right now makes you literally want to throw up, but tonight has been nothing if not another reassurance that you trust him more than anything.

He pulls back from you and looks you in the eye, hand stroking along the side of your head as he checks for certainty. You do your best to let him find it and when he does he kisses your forehead softly. You slowly climb off of him and he makes sure to wrap you up nicely in the comforter before he goes.

He stands intentionally in the doorway, closing the door enough so that there’s only just enough room for him to stand.

“What happened?” you hear the gruff voice of the Batman, followed by Jason shushing him. You can’t quite make out what he mutters back, though you can tell the sentence is short. 

You think you can hear Batman ask if you’re hurt and you see Jason hesitate and then shake his head. You let yourself fall into a reclined position on the bed, consumed by your cocoon of blankets. Jason was really onto something with this.  

Batman sighs, “Alright. We’ll discuss this more tomorrow.”

“Not tomorrow.” Jason says shortly. His meaning is clear, he’s not leaving you again any time soon. Especially not to fill Batman in on something that’s done and over with. Something that he’s hoping to never have to talk about again. A few beats pass before Jason closes the door with a soft click and returns to you quickly.

He takes your hands in his as he sits, rubbing reassuring circles with his thumbs. 

“I need to get you bandaged up.” He whispers reluctantly, knowing that’s not what you want to hear right now. You drop your head on his shoulder wordlessly and he takes in the sight of your blood on your hands. Now it’s his turn to feel sick. “We can—” he pauses, “Do you want to shower first?”

Oh. That would be good, yeah. You nod slowly and languidly unwrap yourself from your blankets.

He wants to ask but he refrains, so you just take his hand and guide him into the bathroom with you. He’s very thankful you do.

He gets the shower started for you, letting it get warm how he knows you like. You watch the steam begin to fog up the mirror as he pulls his shirt off next to you.

He gets down to his boxers when he turns to you and sees that you’ve made no progress in removing any of your clothes. You just stand still, watching the water run.

“Sweetheart?” He calls out gently. “You need help?” He tries to hide the concern in his voice, though not to much avail.

You blink vacantly, “No, I just…” you waver for a moment before climbing into the shower, clothes on.

He stutters between stopping you and letting you go, ultimately deciding on the latter. He follows in after you, sitting side by side with you under the stream of hot water. He has to fold in on himself to fit like this but he doesn’t think twice about being here with you, however you need him. 

Your clothes darken quickly and adheres to your skin, and you find it difficult to tear your eyes away from that patch of your shirt that remains ever so slightly darker than the rest of the wetted fabric.

Jason picks your hand up from its resting place on your stomach and envelopes it in his. You close your eyes and let the water run over your face, sprinkling off your eyelashes.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, sounding nearly in pain.

Your head falls to the side, coming to a rest on his shoulder. The water pounds against your ear, stray drops ricocheting against your cheek. You squeeze his hand and he returns the action, understanding the temporary sentiment. He kisses your head and keeps his lips there, eyes closed too. 

You’ll stay like that in the shower until the heat runs out. He’ll help you out of your soaked clothes and leave them in the tub for now before lifting you up and wrapping you in a towel. He’ll set you down on the bed and apply a bandage to your cut as delicately as he possibly can. Neither of you bother to get dressed again, simply enveloping yourselves in the covers and lying together like that until you’re ready to move.

He didn’t go out on patrol again for nearly two months.

💙 REBLOGGING = SUPPORTING 💙

[dipperscavern]

can I be cheeky and ask for riding jon’s face 🫣🫣🫣

yes… oh yes you absolutely can….. i fell asleep last night to the thought of jon snow canonically being a munch (funny enough) — we’re on the same wavelength anon ! (written w shy!reader in mind)

you’ve heard the talk, heard the different ladies from different statures talk about “the act”, and it’s always a different answer. some say it’s mediocre… others, that it’s their favorite way to feel good, and some, say it’s terrible. you’ve heard stories of men never caring about the woman’s pleasure, and how their only purpose was to give them children. the thought made you shudder.

you, yourself, have never had time. time to freely choose who you trust enough to share that sacred experience with (or even touch yourself). the men at castle black are sworn to celibacy, and even if they would abandon their oath for a night with you, you wouldn’t let them. most of the men at the wall are untrustworthy, and you want more than just a quick fuck. even if these thoughts plague you, you’re too busy with your duties to worry about it. a thing you’ve since long accepted.

until jon snow.

you had been there for jon since his arrival at castle black. never batting an eye at his surname, always trying to make his life a little bit easier. there was also the stolen glances, the soft touches you both passed off as “accidental”, the longing for each other. you both remained as merely “close friends”, until things boiled over and you found solace in each others lips. it didn’t go farther than that, the tentative kiss being soft & exploring, and that was okay with you. you didn’t expect more. until you got more.

sometimes, you hate jon for being so easy to talk to. your shy nature has slowly melted away in his presence, and you find yourself unable to be embarrassed about the questions you ask or answer. your late night talks are what keeps jon sane. he wants to know everything about you, and you both would talk till morning if you could (you have before). the topic often shifts, landing on anything and everything on the planet. even “the act”.

imagine jon’s surprise, when the most beautiful & endearing woman he’s ever met drops her gaze to the floor and bashfully tells him she’s never cum before.

jon short circuits. he asks if you want to. he asks if he can make you. and you say yes.

jon snow is a giver. tasting a woman is a pleasure in itself, and he’d tell you as much if you asked. his mind ran a million miles an hour, thinking about all the ways he could make you feel good. it doesn’t take long before the desire to taste you takes a hold of him, and so he does.

“You’re hovering.”

he’s not wrong. you are. you thought you had heard it all, but the act of sitting on someone’s face has clearly alluded your ears. you’re unsure. you don’t want to hurt him.. suffocating the first man you lay with would have you begging the gods to open the ground and swallow you whole. and it’s not just any man, it’s jon.

the soft glide of jon’s fingers across your thigh bring you out of your head. his hands are cold. they feel nice in contrast to your own skin, nerves lit on fire.

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t.”

“Jon-”

“Do you trust me?”

he’s steadfast in his reassurance. his thumb has been rubbing circles in your hip while you both have been talking. does he do it all on purpose, or is he just this naturally desirable?

“You know I do, but-“

“Good. Sit.”

you still hesitate, and that’s when jon takes matters into his own hands. his hands stop their tracing, and instead grip your thighs, bringing you down himself.

whatever expectations you had are exceeded tenfold. jon eats you out like a man starved. your head spins with the way you can feel his tongue, exploring you and swiping over your clit. it has white hot pleasure shooting up your spine, and your thighs quiver ever so slightly, but jon’s firm grip keeps you in place. he’s confident in his movements, precise and sure in a way that makes you see stars.

jon thinks he’s found the place where he would be content to meet his demise. you taste so good, and the pretty sounds you’re making have blood rushing straight to his cock. jon has always loved the sound of his name on your lips — whether it be small acknowledgments in passing by, or just mentions in mere conversation. but he’s found he much prefers hearing you moan it.

you’re almost embarrassed how quickly he has warmth building up in your belly, pressure building as he gives you the most pleasure you’ve ever had. he’s giving and giving and giving, and you find yourself selfishly taking all of it. he doesn’t slow down, keeping a steady rhythm that makes the cord in your stomach wind impossibly tighter.

“Jon, I’m-!”

you don’t get to finish your sentence, interrupted by the snap of the cord in your stomach that was previously tightening. pleasure overtakes your nerves, flooding your veins and momentarily removing your ability to speak (or think). jon’s tongue doesn’t stop fully, only slowing down to help you ride out your peak.

you catch your breath, feeling jon kiss the inside of your thighs as small aftershocks have you clenching around nothing. you find yourself seeking his touch (as if he hasn’t been constantly on you), your hand running along the surface of your thigh to find his own. he reaches for you, trapping your own smaller hand beneath his own. it’s reassuring, grounding you back to the present after he brought you so far over the edge.

you move to get off, to let him get up & breathe — but he doesn’t release his grip, keeping you in place. you hear him speak.

“Only once?”

[tojisun]

cw: smut (mxm-centric at first); mentioned pegging; poly!!; i fucked up the canon but it is what it is; this is just smthn short and super rambly :(( // divider by @/plutism

poolverine fucking in the odyssey, but they (mostly wade) keep taunting each other by name-dropping you because before this, before anything, you are the only unifying connection they both have—you are a friendly coworker of wade’s, and you are the only one with enough patience to listen to logan’s drunken musings.

you are the only thing they want to come home to. wherever home that would be.

(wade wants to protect you; logan wants a reality where he makes things right. somewhere along the way, this mission found its centre piece and it’s always you.)

it starts with wade. he’d been quiet for all the three seconds that he’s gobbling up all of logan’s cock, before he tips his head up with a manic giggle. it would have exposed the column of his neck if it wasn’t for his mask, and logan’s gums itch with the need to bury his teeth on wade’s skin; he wants ro dig them enough that they’d tear through, and leave a long-lasting mark to get him and wade by.

he twitches, muscles rippling as he prepares to pull him close, but then wade rasps out, “peanut wouldn’t believe ‘er eyes if she’d been here.”

it punches the air out from logan’s lungs and he snarls, blood jumping at the reminder of his failure because it is, otherwise you would be here by his side right now.

“shut yer mouth.”

wade hums, unperturbed, and raises his hips just enough to drag logan’s cock out, before fucking back down on it. it makes logan hiss, pleasure blinding him, and wade moans in tandem.

logan enjoys only a handful of blissful moments—wade is warm and perfect on top of him—until wade begins to babble mindlessly again.

“but she’d—ah!—love to hear this,” wade trills, sounding so giddy. “she’d be so excited—hn!—to know we’re gettin’ along!”

“she won’t know,” logan snaps, threatening. “because you won’t tell.”

(tthey both know that the anger and the growling are just a front because logan has been so unbelievably gentle with wade ever since their last duel. his touch is ever so conscious now as he holds onto wade’s waist, and he rubs soothing nothings on whatever patch of skin he can reach with his thumbs.

wade is—

wade is the one good thing in logan’s life right now; the closest one he can hold and protect because you’re somewhere he can’t reach. wade is the reminder that there is something worth fighting for, worth living for, and so he holds him like the gift he is.

he lo—

he cares for wade, which is why being soft to him comes easy.)

wade lets out another manic giggle, and presses close to nuzzle the muzzle of his mask on logan’s chin.

“but don’t you want to me to show her how you fucked me? maybe we can even recreate it before you fuck her because this—” wade clenches around logan’s cock, “will ruin her pussy. let me prepare her for you, huh?”

logan doesn’t reply—he doesn’t think he can, not with wade’s words swirling in his mind. the thought of wade teaching you how to please logan; of wade fucking you wet and loose for logan; of wade breaking you in for logan has him moaning, his own restraint snapping as his pleasure bloats.

he fucks up, matching wade’s bounces, and wade trills a breathy laugh, the sound of it curling into a drawn-out moan.

“oh, so you liked ‘at, huh?” wade purrs. “‘cause i did too.”

.

logan leans back to his seat, his cock twitching underneath his pants in interest because this? this is better than he’d imagined. he knows it’s better than what wade was expecting too, if the whimpered groans of his pleasure were to be used as points of reference.

“you ready for me, baby?” you croon as you rut the length of your strap against wade’s cock—the size differences comical, especially as it has wade stuttering in apprehension.

“uh,” wade says, blinking at you owlishly. “yeah?”

you hum, endeared. “good boy.”

logan watches, his throat parched, as you begin to fuck wade. it is hot, truly, but guess he’d have to break you in himself, huh bubsy?

[lucyandthepen]

last young renegade | jjh

summary: your valentine’s day plans with jaehyun may have gone down the drain just a little. (okay — a lot.)

pairing: jaehyun x reader verse: canon, idol!verse rating: t warnings&tags: reader & jaehyun are in an established relationship, quite frankly there is nothing too out of the ordinary in this fic which is a shocker, it’s a rewritten fic so pls excuse any errors I may not have caught! word count: 5.02k

a/n: happy 2024 friends and family !!!!!! and advanced happy birthday to the man who created valentine’s day, he who is perhaps my first love in nct, jaehyun! this is actually just a fic I’ve been hoping to re-write a bit from before, and since it’s valentine’s themed, what better time to post it!! Enjoy enjoy, and may this year bring more fun, laughs, love (and debauchery) to this blog!

Yᴏᴜ sᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sɪᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏғ ɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀʏ.

♡ jaehyunnie ♡ I know I said birthday dinner but practice is running so late ㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie ♡ Can we meet after? I’m sorry ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ How about I call you when we’re done? Maybe 11:30?

At times like this, you often wonder if it’s all worth it.  

You know thinking that way is counterproductive, not to mention a little unfair. You knew exactly what to expect, getting into an under-wraps relationship with an idol, and so far, it’s lived up to most of your assumptions, and then some. It doesn’t help that Jaehyun, even just by name, tends to attract an unbelievable amount of attention. You know you can’t blame him; it’s not like he wants to be high on the radar every time, either. For some reason, though, you seem to be looking for something or someone to blame, which you also know is a dead end. You have no one to pin the blame onto apart from yourself by frequently generating doubts that keep your mind running around in circles.  

It’s not even the sneaking around that gets tiring; it’s the waiting — waiting on calls, waiting on free time, waiting on a good opportunity to do something that doesn’t involve him suddenly getting pulled out to attend to one of many of his celebrity responsibilities. Over the last few years that you’ve dated, NCT has only ever gotten more popular; with that popularity came the fact that the public eye was trained on them, focusing on every microscopic detail of their lives. Jaehyun hates that more than anything, which is why he’s given up on trying to avoid it by practically escaping it altogether, locking himself up in the dorm with you when he has his precious few days off. 

While it’s true that you definitely don’t miss having to play espionage when going out for a cup of coffee with him, you’ve also managed to memorize every single inch of Jaehyun’s room, which isn’t good for your mentality, you’re pretty sure. You have to keep reminding him to open the window whenever the both of you are in there, because all you do is stay in and watch English movies without subtitles to see who can understand the most without asking questions (obviously, he always wins) while eating food he runs up and down the stairs to get every other hour. And while him trying to imitate the British accents on these shows is genuinely funny, you’re starting to suspect even he’s starting to get tired of watching Harry Potter over and over again. Twenty hours sounds like a long time unless you spend every twenty-hour period you have together marathoning the exact same films. Much to both of your disappointment, your suggestion to watch it totally out of order did not make it cooler.

Still, you suppose it’s not all bad. Jaehyun also taught you how to play Fortnite on a couple of his days off back to back, and while you hadn’t been as good a player as you both had hoped, he’d still patiently waited for you every time you got lost on the map. He’d even given you his account’s password with the sentiment that this was him ‘taking things to the next level with you,’ and you get to log into his account and play whenever you want; he doesn’t even get mad when you’ve wasted all the stuff he’s farmed on your subpar gaming skills. And, well, the bigger picture was that you loved him. Based on how much effort he put into the relationship, plus the bonus of his trust in you when it came to his Fortnite account, you could at least be confident in that he returned the sentiment.  

Except, sometimes, you still wonder if it would be easier for the both of you if he flew solo and didn’t have a girlfriend that tanked all of his player’s ammo and health kits and generally made a fool out of his cute little avatar while he was out breaking his back onstage.  

You aren’t sure if Jaehyun’s been noticing the turmoil in you; you’re not that good at hiding how you feel, anyway, but if he has, he hasn’t said anything thus far. You do observe how much more he texts you when he has free time, which makes you feel doubly bad, because you know that he’s spending precious minutes he could be resting with on talking to you instead, which isn’t the best trade-off for someone who’s constantly busy — and thereby constantly tired — like him.  

♡ jaehyunnie♡ ___________ I’m going to practice again, okay? Wait for my call ㅠㅠ You I’ll wait for your call ♡ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ I love you ㅠㅠㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ You love me too — a lot, right? I’ll keep my phone now, but I’ll make sure to check that you said so. ㅋㅋㅋ You Right! ㅎ I love you a lot! ♡

When the clock hits 12:01, and your phone is silent, your mind starts working on overtime again. It’s only when the special ringtone you’ve set for him comes to life at half-past midnight that you break your train of thought and put on your socks so you can meet Jaehyun at your front door.  

You’ve made a rule — sort of like a deal — between the two of you that apologies aren’t necessary when work holds you up. You’ve cashed in on that deal a couple of times, but you’re both aware that it’s more for Jaehyun’s sake than anything else, and he keeps to his word on that much when you open the door and duck into his car. All he does is smile at you, and you smile back, and for the rest of the car ride, everything seems okay.  

He always asks you about your day — unfailingly, at any chance he can. It’s never an off-handed question, either; Jaehyun takes great pride in his memory, and the sweetest thing about him is that he’s dedicated a good deal of it to knowing almost everything about you. Right now is no different. He asks you about your team manager, what you had for lunch; he grills you on if you took your vitamins today and if you got to break in the new shoes you bought online — the ones you’d been pining over for the last three months. He even asks you about the guy from the neighboring department who keeps asking you out for after-work drinks.  

“He wanted to go to Hongdae tonight,” you tell him as he slows for a red light. “There’s some new pub of his friend’s doing a soft opening there tonight.”  

“You could have gone.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “I wouldn’t have minded.”  

“I didn’t want to.”

“Good.” He glances at you, a grin slowly spreading on his lips. “Because I lied. I might have minded a little. Or, you know, a lot.”  

“Don’t tell me after all these years, you’ve turned into the kind of boyfriend that doesn’t let his girlfriend go out without him.”

“That’s impossible for me, and you know that,” he chuckles. “You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. Just not with that guy from the other department.”

“Don’t worry.” You tinker with the little charm dangling on your phone — half of a flat, metal heart dangling from a gold chain that Jaehyun had given you two years back on your birthday. He keeps the other half, but since he can’t freely attach it to any of his belongings, he keeps it wedged between the back of his phone and its case. You like watching him change the backing because he does it so carefully, like he’s worried the other half of the heart is going to break if he rips off the case willy nilly. “I told him my boyfriend and I were going out on a date tonight, so he backed off. Although he did wonder why I keep talking about a boyfriend he’s never seen.”

“And? What did you say?”

“I said it was none of his damn business.”  

Jaehyun laughs loudly, and you go along with him, but you don’t miss how tired he looks when he sobers down, the green light illuminating all the shadows on his face as he steps on the gas again.

Nothing good is open this late at night — that is, nothing you haven’t seen before. You hadn’t even expected to go out at all, but since it was the day before Valentine’s Day as well as his birthday (or it would have been, if you hadn’t waited until midnight), Jaehyun had wanted to do something special without having to run into a huge crowd of couples on the day itself. Your only option is this from-out-of-town carnival that’s set up in tents and even has a medium-sized ferris wheel by the edge of the metal barricade. The parking lot is practically empty when Jaehyun pulls into a slot; you joke that he should break one rule and park in two slots, which he smugly replies to by saying he couldn’t park badly even if he tried.  

He tucks your hair back behind your ears as he loops the strings of a face mask around them, using another one for himself. Between that and the brim of his cap, you can barely see his eyes. The only knowledge that you have that you’re walking next to the man you love is that he takes your hand in his, slender fingers finding their way between yours.  

The carnival is half-closed when you get to the middle of it; there are still a few stragglers, but half the kiosks have their lights off already. There’s a woman dressed in flashy clothes standing on a patch of dead grass a few feet away, and she’s holding a hoop that a ginger cat is jumping through. Jaehyun steers you to them, and you stand there for a good five minute watching the cat roll on the ground and stand on its hind legs, but you can tell it’s been going it at for most of the day because at one point, it just ignores the lady, opting to weave its way between Jaehyun’s and your legs instead. You do have a pretty good time when he picks it up and cradles it in his arms so you can pet it for a second, but it just hisses when its owner approaches and jumps out of his hold, disappearing behind a row of trash bins.  

Jaehyun doesn’t have anything in his wallet apart from his credit cards and 50,000 won, and the coin machine operator says he only has enough coins left to break down 5,000 won for the games, so you end up having to jog back to his car so you can fish out some coins from inside his glove compartment. You come up with a grand total of 1,500 won, and you have to sheepishly go back to the coin machine operator to change four 100 coins and a couple of 50s just to get the last 500. Jaehyun tells you to hold onto the three coins so he doesn’t run off with them entirely and leave you destitute.  

You learn you can only do three things at most — you dedicate 500 won for the Ferris wheel entry tickets, which leaves you with 500 won each. The both of you agree on choosing one kiosk to play in, and with only about five left that are open, you don’t really have that many options. You end up dragging Jaehyun over to a stall with a pond filled with those magnetic toy fish, but 500 won only gets you one fishing rod. Since it’s your choice, Jaehyun lets you play, but you feel kind of stupid doing it on your own with him just watching you. In the end, he decides to stand behind you, his arms around your waist like he thinks closer contact isn’t even more distracting. You do manage to fish out 10 fish and win a small bear on a keychain. It doesn’t even pass through your hands as Jaehyun takes it from the stall operator immediately. 

“That’s mine!” You whine, reaching out in vain to take it from him; he just holds it high over his head. His eyes are twinkling under the shadow his cap casts over his face. “I worked hard for that.”  

“Let me keep this one,” he mimics the pleading lilt in your voice. “I’ll put it on my bag.”

“You know you can’t! Give it back.”

“I’ll win you a bigger one,” he promises. “Let me keep this one. It’s cute. It reminds me of you. I’ll kiss it goodnight before I sleep.” He starts to laugh softly. “And then you’ll feel this weird spirit kissing you at like two in the morning, and you’ll know it’s me.”  

Your arms aren’t long enough to retrieve it, and you don’t really want to, so you settle with twisting his ear. He takes it in stride even if he over-acts, making pained noises while leading you to the kiosk he wants to go to. It’s a shooting range stall, and he pays his own precious 500 won for a dart gun. He’s barely paying attention when the guy starts explaining how many points are assigned to each balloon color, more concerned with talking to the bear keychain in his hand and pretending like he’s cooing at you. You have to hit him across the shoulder to get him to focus.  

“You need to start picking out what prize you want,” he tells you — the actual you, not the animal keychain version — as he lifts the dart gun.  

“I’ll wait for you to finish first.”  

“No way.” He tilts his head, closing one eye to steady his line of sight. “Pick already. Or just go for the biggest one.”

“You know that Fortnite and dart guns aren’t the same thing, right?”  

“Yeah, but I’m well-motivated.” He grins at you, one eye still shut. He looks like a baby pirate. “Go ahead. Pick the biggest one.”

“Why don’t you just shoot, and we’ll see.”  

“Pick it,” he insists. “Tell me you have faith in me. Tell me you love me.”

“Okay, I love you,” you agree. “But I have no faith in you when it comes to this.”  

“One out of two is fine,” he concedes, taking aim.  

All three of you, including the stall operator, let out a disappointed groan when he misses his first shot. His comes with a sheepish laugh as he reloads, suddenly telling you to pick the second biggest prize instead. You can’t even watch him miss over and over, so you pretend to be interested in a bunch of teenage boys playing a game of cups one stall over, trying not to giggle when you hear him get increasingly more frustrated at himself. When you turn back around, you notice he’s holding two small pieces of gummy candy, offering one to you like a kindergartener. He helps you tug your face mask down so you can eat it.  

There’s a food stall nearby that, thankfully, accepts credit and debit; Jaehyun fishes out his card to get you a corndog — only one because he’s watching his weight for the upcoming concert, apparently. This is information you hate hearing but have no say in, and he knows this; you know he does because he says ‘don’t worry about me’ totally out of the blue, like five minutes after the conversation ceases to be relevant.  

His phone starts ringing when the food comes out, and he takes a tiny bite of it — more bread than hotdog — before he answers. You know it’s Taeyong by the way he answers.  

“Hyung, sorry — can we talk later? I’m out with ____________.”  

Taeyong says something loud but indiscernible on the other end. You piece together that it’s about tomorrow’s schedule when Jaehyun speaks again.

“I know. I’ll be home in a bit; don’t worry about it. I haven’t forgotten.”  

There’s more garbled speech on the other line; Jaehyun gestures for you to keep eating, and you do, but you more concerned with the morphing expressions on his face than you are with the act of chewing. He’s making noncommittal noises in response to what seem to be commands and reminders. You’re pretty much done with the corndog by the time he says ‘Okay, hyung. Hyung — I’ll see you later, okay?’

“Taeyong hyung says hi,” he tells you once he’s hung up the phone. “He says you still need to give back that book you borrowed from him last year.”  

“Oh yeah,” you finish off the last of the food. “I’ll drop it off within the week.”  

“Don’t worry about it. He doesn’t actually mean it.”  

Jaehyun watches you snap the stick in half and toss it in the trash bag.  

“We can go home,” you say finally. His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re busy tomorrow. I forgot.”

“I didn’t forget, and it’s fine.”  

“It’s almost two in the morning.” You check your phone to verify. “You probably have to be up in a few hours. You need to sleep, or you’ll die, Jaehyun. I’m too young to be a grieving widow.”

“Let’s at least ride the Ferris wheel,” he suggests. Before you can protest, he tugs you towards the rickety contraption, digging the 500 won out of your pocket and handing it to the bemused operator. He lets you choose what carriage you want because literally no one is on it anymore, and Jaehyun asks for the best carriage. You’re not sure how it differs from the rest, but he makes a show out of guiding you into it, and you don’t miss the corny ‘my lady,’ he mutters under his breath.   

It’s small, clearly meant for either a tiny group of children or couples who want to be as close together as possible. It’s also not air-conditioned, and only one of the windows is open, so you end up sticking to Jaehyun’s arm on the way up. The view is still great, though, and you feel his hand settle on your knee as the carriage makes it slow ascent.  

The ride up is quiet, and you press your face as close to the glass of the carriage as you dare, but Jaehyun doesn’t move an inch. His hand is still heavy on your thigh, but it doesn’t do anything but lay there. When you’re close to the top, you’re hit with the urge to do something romantic — kiss, maybe, tell him happy birthday, or say ‘I love you’ to him in the most sickening way possible — but when you turn to look at him, you have to hold your tongue.

Jaehyun is asleep, leaning against the corner of the carriage, head tilted down a little. His shoulders are rising and falling slowly, and he’s pulled down his face mask a little so he can breathe better; his lips are slightly parted by the slackening of his jaw. His left hand is shoved in his pocket, like he’d passed out halfway through reaching for something in there.  

He doesn’t wake even when you move slightly so you can lean back next to him, rocking the carriage a little — not even when you reach up and adjust his head so he can rest on your shoulder. He breathes deeply, evenly, and you wonder if his ear against your shoulder allows him to hear your heart plummet unfairly to the bottom of your stomach.  

You have to shake him to rouse him when the ride comes to an end; when he opens his eyes and realizes what happened, he looks mortified. Instinctively, he opens his mouth, but you fling the carriage door open and step out before he can apologize.

You have a deal, and he knows what he shouldn’t be doing.

His grip on your hand is much tighter as you walk back to the parking lot, and he doesn’t let go, even on the road. The trip back is quieter, maybe because it’s late, or maybe because there are a ton of things the both of you want to say but can’t.  

He slows down when he gets to your street, but when he stops in front of your building, he doesn’t immediately unlock the doors to let you out. Instead, he turns to you, licking his lips a little nervously.

“Can you…” he clears his throat because his voice cracks a little on the first attempt. “Can you come back with me? To the dorm?”  

“I have work tomorrow, Jaehyun.”  

“It’s still at eleven, isn’t it? I can bring you home before that. You still have some stuff in my room. You can get ready there.”

“Won’t you be too busy?”  

“Just—” he sighs softly. “Can you? Please?”  

You don’t know how to say no to Jaehyun, and tonight isn’t a night you’re willing to try. It’s why fifteen minutes later, you’re walking through the front door of his dorm. Donghyuck, sitting at his computer in his room with the door ajar, greets you sleepily as you pass by.  

Jaehyun steps in the shower with you; you don’t talk, maybe because you’re worried you might wake the others up if you start a full-blown conversation in a bathroom surrounded by other bedrooms. He just passes you what you need, and you do the same for him, and somewhere in between, he kisses you under the spray of the water.  

Later, he falls asleep with a face mask on, and you have to peel it off for him and toss it into the trash. The tip of his nose is shiny, and you want to kiss it, but you know it’ll wake him, and you noticed he’d set his alarm to go off two hours from now. He’s set out a couple of earplugs for you so that you don’t hear it, but you don’t put them in. You want to see him before he leaves, even if it’s in the deadest hours of morning, so you just crawl into bed with him. A minute before you doze off, you feel his damp skin press against your neck, his form curled up against your back.  

The alarm never wakes you; the sun is out when you open your eyes, and when you check your phone, you see that it’s already half-past nine. You also notice that there’s nothing from Jaehyun on your screen, but you try not to dwell on that, considering that you’d been expecting to wake up to an empty bed. His side of the mattress is cold, which means that he’s been gone for some time.  

You don’t know if it’s just because you’re groggy, but your insides still feel like lead when you sit up. The part of you that nags about this relationship is back at full force when you start thinking about Jaehyun going to a pre-recording two hours after spending the last of his energy on you. You start wondering if you’re doing the right thing if it feels like you’re just dragging him down. Your heart clenches tightly when the worst thought hits — maybe, just maybe, he’s tired of you, too.

But you won’t let him go. More to the point — you can’t. He’s the best part of your life; it’d be a cold day in hell if you decided to leave him.

Even the thought of it makes you feel like dying.  

Then again, this isn’t all up to you.  

You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes — and maybe a couple of frustrated tears — when the door creaks open. You see two mugs and his hands before you see the rest of him come through the doorway. Jaehyun whispers a careful good morning as he sets the coffee down on his table, making sure to push his keyboard away to avoid accidents, before sitting down next to you. You notice that there’s an envelope next to one of the mugs; the flap is slightly open, and from under it, a flash of red peeks out.  

His hand finds its way back to your knee — it’s his favorite resting place, he’s told you once. Your lap feels like home, he’d joked. Maybe he touches it every so often because it’s like a reset button for him.  

He doesn’t ask if you slept well, or if you want to get ready before having your coffee, or if you’re okay. He just squeezes your knee a little tighter. It’s you that has to start the conversation this time.

“How did it go?”

“It went great. You’ll see it on TV later tonight,” he starts rubbing your thigh idly. “You’ll watch it later, right?”  

“Of course. I’ll call you and tell you how cool you look.”  

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. When you lapse into silence again, it’s because you’re expecting him to say something, but he doesn’t come out with it directly. You try not to let it show that you’re worried, that you’re skeptical, that you’re wondering if he thinks he’s too tired, too busy for this, too.  

You’re expecting him to start how most break-ups start. You know I love you, right? And then the telltale but… would come, and you would have to hold back your tears and smile for him, and tell him you know, and that you understand it isn’t the right time, but maybe one day, someday, when he isn’t everyone’s Jung Jaehyun anymore — only yours.  

“You love me, right?”  

It’s not what you’d been expecting. Nor is it the playful little text he’d sent — no laughs, no jokes. His expression is somber, mouth pressed into a thin line.  

“You know I do.”

“A lot, right?”

“A lot,” you confirm softly.  

“Then whatever it is that you’re thinking about us,” he says quietly. “Don’t. Don’t think it. Don’t do it.”  

“Jaehyun—”

“I know it’s hard,” his fingers dig into your skin a little. “I know I put you through a lot. I know you think that I’m suffering because of this relationship too. I know everything. But whatever you think I’m going to do, I won’t do it — not ever. So if you’re thinking of it too, I’m begging you. Don’t. Please.”  

Maybe he had noticed all this time. A wave of guilt washes over you when you see the pained look on his face; perhaps you were even more transparent than you’d originally thought. You nod slowly to show your understanding, and he continues.  

“I know yesterday wasn’t the best you could have hoped for,” he carefully avoids apologizing, although it’s written all over his features. “For me, too. I… I wanted something different. It’ll be better next time. Do you believe me?”  

You hear him swallow — his nails are biting into your thigh a little, so you have to gently peel his hand off. Your fingers replace it, tightening around his palm as you nod.

“I believe you.”  

“And you trust me, right?”

“With my life.”  

“Then can you put your faith in me right now?” He asks. “Don’t panic. Just — just say yes.”

He pats around his pants, finally deciding to slip his hand into his left-hand pocket. Unlike on the Ferris wheel, he manages to extract something, but he keeps it closed in his fist. It’s shaking a little as he takes your hand in his other one, pressing something small and hard into your palm before he curls your fingers over it. His hold keeps your fist closed as he starts talking.

“It’s not immediate. We’ll figure it out. We’ll tell the right people, and they’ll help us tell everyone else — the public, the press. It doesn’t have to happen right now, or any time soon either— not if you don’t want it to. We can take it slow, or whatever. Anything you want — just as long as it’s with me.”  

“Jaehyun,” you shake your head, a little dizzy. “What are you talking about?”  

He slowly loosens his hold on your fingers, his hand dropping to the same spot on your knee. You’re free to open your fist, and when you do, you can’t help but feel a little stumped.

“I don’t mean now,” he repeats, now sounding doubly worried. “It’s not — It’s just…”  

“You’ll get in trouble. We can’t.”

“I won’t. Not if we do this right. Like I said, we can do it slowly. Months — years, however long it takes to do it well. What it is — it’s just… a promise.”  

“A promise,” you echo. It does have a nice ring to it.  

“That I’m not leaving you. Not ever. And… if you say yes, that you won’t either.”  

Your coffee has probably turned cold. Jaehyun is watching you carefully, looking like he’s trying hard not to bite his lip. You look back down at your hand, and he speaks up again.  

“You know I love you, right?”  

You smile slightly. “No but?”  

“No but,” he agrees.  

The ring fits nicely on your finger; maybe it’s well-measured from the amount of times he’s held your hand tightly in his.  

“Okay, Jaehyun,” you whisper. “I promise.”  

When you place your hand on his, he twists his palm, slender fingers gently twirling the ring around the base of your finger.  

Minutes later, he hands you your coffee. It’s sweet and milky, the way he knows you like it best. When he settles back down on the bed, you notice his eyes travel to your finger again, a small smile playing on his lips.  

Perhaps, in this moment, you finally learn to ask the right questions — not about if it’s worth it, but if he is.  

And in this moment, where he sits in silence with you, the sunlight pouring in from his window hitting the tips of his hair and the end of his nose, with the knowledge that his heart is as full as yours, you come to realize that there can — and never will be — any doubt of that.  

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

Hello! I have a request. Can I have some head canons about how La Squadra would react if you were disrespected by someone? Let’s say their s/o (preferably female) works at a cafe or restaurant and a rude customer throws the money at her, completely expecting her to pick up the bill from the floor (yes, that is a real experience I’ve had, unfortunately).

How would they react? What would they do afterwards or say?

Would really, REALLY appreciate it. Honestly, I wish someone had stood up for me back then.

Author’s note: Hey hey~

Thanks for the request~

Sorry no one stood up for you, what happened to human decency?

And I can totally relate, the entitlement of people is insane. Two days in to my very first job as a cashier I had a customer say some really atrociously awful things to me and I just took it because I didn’t know what else to do and afterwards my managers told me I should’ve called them wow. Like my manager literally wouldn’t repeat what the customer had said because it was so abhorrently inappropriate and disgusting.

So yeah. Respect employees, we’re all human beings here it’s literally so easy to Not be insanely rude.

Interestingly enough I actually had some thoughts on this written in my personal La Squadra notes, particularly in regard to Prosciutto since he gives me lots of thoughts about stuff similar to that, cool that I get to address that heh.

-La Squadra x female reader: When someone disrespects you

Content, PLZ READ: female reader who works as a waitress, discussion of unhealthy and toxic masculinity paired with sexism (Prosciutto), La Squadra is a group of (mostly) pretty aggressive men who act on that feeling so. Some canon compliant aggression, threats, violence and blood. They’re a group of assassins so Lots of Bad men doing bad things. Melone’s slightly perverse tendencies

Various scenarios involving rude customers, including the example in the ask.

Established relationship: dating/married depending on the character

Ok while writing this it’s finally really hitting me how bizarre it’d be to be a non stand user witnessing or experiencing a stand attack-

Reader is aware of stands and that her La Squadra man is a member of the Mafia

And attempts at Italian hopefully it’s correct but if not please lemme know!

Micro fics style

-Formaggio: Out of all the members of La Squadra he’s noticeably much more chill and relaxed than the others. But he’s still a proud member of the Italian Mafia. And you’re his girl. He’s no knight in shining armor or Prince Charming for you, he won’t intervene when there’s an occasional irritable customer giving you a bit of a hard time. He knows you can take care of yourself.

However, if some entitled customer has the audacity to go too far and say or do something Really disrespectful while he’s around, I think he has a preference for good old-fashioned humiliation, and only results to intimidation if they decide they wanna keep making a fool of themselves.

He plays it up like: “ooh, hey, if you wanted that pretty lady’s attention there are much better ways to get it, buddy.”

You don’t have to add anything. You resume work quietly, but keep your eyes and ears focused on him, in case he decided to get carried away.

After a little bit of back and forth with him using his usual coolness and charisma, the offender gets increasingly frustrated and flustered.

When your boyfriend’s finally had enough of this stupid game he stands up from his table. His playfully mocking expression remains, but his smirk shifts ever so slightly into something more sinister. “If you want we could just take this outside,” he says it so casually, with the tone of a man who wasn’t going to hold back if it actually did escalate into a fight. He was not bluffing at all either.

At full height and with the clear confidence that he was absolutely gonna win the fight, the rude customer wisely decides Formaggio was Not someone he wanted to mess with and awkwardly leaves the restaurant, Formaggio loudly exclaiming taunts as the guy skittered away with his tail between his legs.

He seems awfully pleased with himself after “defending your honor” like that. You let him enjoy that feeling, because honestly that was pretty well done and it didn’t get too ugly. He has some nerve expecting a bunch of praise from you for that though.

-Illuso: Someone saying or doing something rude to you is like insulting him as well. And his stand is uniquely qualified for an entertaining punishment against some arrogant idiot giving you a difficult time.

Illuso doesn’t say anything, but when you look over at him while some jerk is screaming his head off at you like it’s your fault his food took five minutes longer than usual to arrive, you see that he’s pretending to fix up his appearance in a fancy compact mirror you had gifted him on your one year anniversary.

You can tell immediately he’s actually angling it at the guy screaming at you so he can activate Man in the Mirror. You inwardly groan because honestly you welcome your husband’s interference, but it will be difficult to explain a man magically disappearing in the middle of a restaurant, especially while he’s causing such a scene with that excessive screeching.

All of a sudden…silence. Such a sudden silence that the sound of Illuso clasping his mirror shut is audible to you from where you’re standing. Of course all the customers were looking at that guy who was freaking out at you. And he literally vanished before their eyes. So you do the only thing you can think of and spread your arms in an exaggerated manner and go: “Ta-DAAAH~” like the supernatural disappearance was just a magic trick.

In a rather weak attempt to sell it, Illuso starts slowly clapping for you and commenting: “molto bene~”. You can’t muster an annoyed glare at him; the slight smile tugging at your lips gave you away. A few customers join him in clapping, a bit confused, but honesty just glad that the yelling has stopped.

Illuso’s version of torment is to leave the guy completely alone in the mirror world. Confusion combined with isolation is a cruel combination, and given his captor was Illuso who was absolutely bound to prolong the punishment because of his sadistic tendencies, you almost feel sorry for the guy.

“Make sure you let him go by this evening,” you remind him before you get back to work.

“Let who go, dearie?” he says, his acting pathetically bad.

Sigh. So he was going to play it that way…

“I’m serious,” you grumble.

“Me too.”

You meet his eyes at that remark, and his smug smirk tells you he wants to see if you’ll keep nagging him about it.

When you don’t indulge him he’ll get bored and let the guy go. Hopefully that brat learned a lesson. And if not, at least he has a story literally no one will believe.

-Prosciutto: Despite not being a very nice man to you, he’s got that ridiculous belief that only he’s allowed to be harsh to you. It’s “tough love” when he’s hyper critical of you or snaps at you for something small, but if anyone else does it to an excessive degree then it’s apparently unacceptable, rude behavior. Really it’s just his pride as a man and unhealthy view of masculinity that causes him to freak out when you’re disrespected. He’s your fiancé…By his logic, you need him to protect you, and it’s his job as a man to do so.

He’s a big hypocrite.

But at least he stands up for you.

You could usually feel Prosciutto watching when a customer started to get a little ornery with you. He wouldn’t always step in, unless something he deemed entirely disrespectful was said or done; he does think dealing with irritable people is okay for you until they get carried away.

It looked like he wasn’t going to intervene this time over the dirtbag being extraordinarily picky and fussy with you, just because he liked bossing essential workers around apparently. Prosciutto was listening, as usual, but didn’t seem too concerned, drinking his coffee disinterestedly. Until the customer decided to toss a crumpled up napkin at you when you turned around.

Ohhh boy, you didn’t even have to LOOK to know the coffee mug getting slammed down on a table was Prosciutto.

You debate what you should do. He strides past you, and you opt to just…hold still and listen for a moment. Pretend you don’t know him, and let him do whatever it is he’s about to do (though you have a pretty good guess what it is).

Despite all the tough talk he was doing before, that customer couldn’t hide the slight panic in his voice at Proscuitto’s sudden approach.

Unlike a lot of Passione members who preferred to hide their affiliation to the mafia, Prosciutto wasn’t nearly as subtle with that tailored suit, open shirt and the demeanor of a man who’s killed before and will kill again.

“Hey who the hell do you think you are?! Stay away from m-” the jerk’s nervous ranting is cut off by Prosciutto dragging him to his feet by the collar of his shirt.

“You dropped something,” Prosciutto says in that certain tone you’ve grown all too familiar with. He uses it often when he’s pissed off or teaching a lesson or both at the same time.

Before the man can even squeak out the beginnings of some sort of excuse or counter he’s gagging, and you turn around to stop Prosciutto from straight up choking the guy by shoving the same napkin he tossed at you down his throat, speaking about how disgustingly disrespectful it was to throw anything at a woman.

“Hey, I think he gets it,” you cut in.

You wonder if he’s actually gonna listen to you this time. For a moment it seems like he might ignore you and continue the lesson. But he decides you may have a point and that he’s not worth the trouble. Though it doesn’t stop him from roughly shoving the guy to the ground when he lets go of his shirt.

“Make sure you add an apology when you pay the check,” he says to the sniveling man on the floor desperately telling himself not to make a run for it like a coward now that Prosciutto’s back was turned.

You don’t know whether to smile or roll your eyes, knowing all your fiancé meant was that he better leave you a generous tip as compensation for such disrespectful behavior.

“Go smoke outside,” is all you say to him when you see Prosciutto reach for the pack of cigarettes in his jacket. He smoked when he was especially irritated; so he went through a lot of cigarettes. He waves his hand dismissively at you, but obeys and goes outside. Though he stays close to the entrance. He’s making it clear he’s not leaving til you’re getting paid well for all that trouble.

The guy ended up practically handing his wallet to you.

Prosciutto internally checks off his: do one good thing for his fiancée today mission.

-Pesci: He’s not the most confrontational of La Squadra, and there’s no love lost between the murderous members of the team beyond a mild respect for each other’s strength (and that’s only sometimes) but he’s more than familiar with how most of the other assassins handle disrespect or things they don’t like in public with violence and aggression (hard glares at Ghiaccio and Prosciutto in particular). And that usually results in them getting asked to leave the premises, how embarrassing-

He doesn’t want to embarrass you either when a particularly volatile customer started screaming at you and freaking out for no valid reason. But he can’t just sit there and let you take that kind of abuse either.

He tries to excuse you from the situation by calling you over to his table like he was a customer and it was something urgent. And well…it might just escalate the irritation of that insufferable jerk screaming at you but…

You go to Pesci anyways, opting to just ignore the jerk, pretending to be busy dealing with some made up issue Pesci was improvising.

To your surprise it actually kinda worked. The guy was steaming for a bit and yelling at you from his table but. You just ignored him. And if anything actually happened Pesci was 100% capable of handling it if he had to. He didn’t usually try to start fights, but if pushed he could absolutely finish them.

“Do you usually get customers like that?” Pesci asks with genuine concern in his voice once the guy finally gets mad enough to leave (without paying but that was a problem for later).

“Well…” more often than someone who doesn’t work in food service would think…

“Sometimes,” you admit vaguely, not wanting to worry him but not wanting to lie either.

He thinks you should find some different job, not that he’s actually in a position to suggest that given he’s literally a La Squadra assassin. And you’ve heard from the few times you’ve met with his coworkers that the money they make in the business of murder is minuscule all things considered. Honestly he should get a new job too. One that didn’t rely on the occasional commission and splitting a check with eight other people.

You both know it’s not that easy to just Find a new job. And he doesn’t think it’s a great idea to suggest you get more involved in Passione for quick but dirty money…sigh…no easy solution…

-Melone: Your boyfriend was the least confrontational man in La Squadra.

Usually you encourage him to not visit you at work…because he always stares at you in such a manner that your coworkers or customers sometimes warn you about a creep in the corner booth who’s been watching you for a while.

As someone who’s used to being yelled at (though only because he’s the one being a FREAK so it doesn’t Really count) he’s sure you can handle the occasional ornery customer who decided to raise their voice at you. He usually intervened only if you directly requested it, because more often than not you got annoyed at him for worming his way into your other problems. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t notice when he’s typing on his laptop at the restaurant you work at and someone starts destructively causing a scene all because you brought them the wrong brand of soda by accident. It’s been a long day, you’re tired, you’re working the evening shift and the restaurant’s about to close. So you don’t bother to try and appease this guy, you know he’ll just complain and give you a hard time no matter what you do. And he apparently took your: “I’m sorry, let me grab you the right one,” as disingenuous and insulting, because you didn’t call him “Sir”. You really don’t feel like dealing with this, and you’re about to just let it go until he has the audacity to knock the soda off the table and onto the floor, staining the floor and even getting soda all over your shoes.

God…just to humiliate you over something small-you find yourself quietly staring at the floor for a moment, trying to register what you should even do…bend over right now to try to salvage your shoes before the soda dried? You had napkins in your pocket. But then the damn customer won…

And you know Melone was watching everything. He’s so invested that he’s stopped typing.

Melone’s no gentleman, and has no shame, but he can’t just let someone get away completely with disrespecting his girlfriend…especially given he had bought those cute shoes for you!

You can only mumble Melone’s name quietly when he approaches the situation, his demeanor energized despite how late it was. You weren’t gonna deny him stepping in but saying his name was a warning not to be too weird.

He clicks his tongue, making a point to not even look at the jerky customer, like he wasn’t there, and focuses all his attention on you.

“You know those shoes weren’t cheap, tesoro mio,” he chides playfully, immediately plucking off some napkins from the customer’s table and kneeling in front of you so he can wipe your shoes clean himself.

You bite your lip. It might seem gentlemanly to onlookers, but you knew he was also using the opportunity to get close to your legs in public. But he manages to behave himself, even putting a few napkins over the spill on the floor once he’s done with your shoes.

When he finally stands back up, he makes a point of leaning very close with an especially devious look on his face.

“What a shame,” he says in a strangely exaggerated tone. “I think I’ll have to buy you a new pair of shoes…”

You just give him a confused look after reminding him you’re on the clock when he leans in for a kiss.

Then he wanders off. But at least he distracted the customer enough to dampen the worst of the disrespectful behavior.

You finish your shift. Melone was waiting for you outside with his motorcycle, as he’s your ride back to your shared apartment.

He looks especially pleased with himself.

“What’d you do this time?” you sigh and yawn, too tired to feel especially concerned with whatever he might’ve done.

“Your next pair of shoes is going to be Especially nice…I’ll even get you a pretty dress to go with them~” he licks his lips.

Under the dim light of the street lamp, you finally notice the wallet that he’s holding up. It isn’t his.

His little kneeling act by the table with the rude customer apparently had many purposes…your boyfriend really was quite a sly opportunist…

“Melone…” you were gonna chide him gently for taking the guy’s Entire wallet but…it was too late to start arguing with him, given he was your ride home. And you didn’t care too much about it in the first place, especially right now.

-Ghiaccio: Everything ticks him off so when you’re working you don’t mind if he doesn’t bother to stop by and say hi even when he’s in the area. He tends to get worked up about something minuscule even during quick visits. And your restaurant is quite popular with tourists, who he has a borderline obsessive type of hatred for. Yeah. You were okay with him NOT visiting you while you were working because inevitably one day he was gonna cause quite a scene-

You feel a very ironic cold shiver down your spine when you catch sight of a familiar red Mazda Miata going way too fast in the parking lot looking for a space to park.

“Dios mio…I don’t need this today…” you mumble to yourself, not realizing a particularly entitled customer was watching you act distracted for a moment by looking at a car from the window.

When you get to his table, you don’t really know what he’s yapping about when he says waitresses these days are SO ditzy and aren’t properly trained. You’re not listening too hard because you’re watching Ghiaccio walk past the window on his way into the restaurant. He gives you an acknowledging glance when he spots you, and it pisses off the customer even more because now he’s complaining about how completely unprofessional it was that you invited your boyfriend into the restaurant while you were working. You have no idea where this guy is even getting all these assumptions, or what was even so terribly wrong with the scenario he’s making up, so you don’t pay it much attention and just brush it off as the customer’s eccentric personality trait.

Until he says that if you were going to be disrespectful by inviting your boyfriend to work, you might as well look busy.

What a freaking idiot, waiting for Ghiaccio to walk in to the restaurant before literally throwing the money for his meal at you, completely expecting you to pick up all the bills.

Ghiaccio doesn’t even need to know the context to react (though it’s probably for the best he didn’t hear what started it because it’d just piss him off even more).

“Hey, hey, hey…” Ghiaccio’s voice from the entrance can be heard from half way inside the restaurant. “If you meant to give the money to her, it’d be MUCH more efficient for both of you if you just HANDED it to her, you freaking moron-“

Oh God, here we go…Ghiaccio wasn’t screaming quite at full volume as he speed walked to where you were standing, his hands twitching slightly, either oblivious or simply ignoring all the customers exchanging nervous glances as they watched him. He has to be literally the WORST AND the EASIEST member of his entire team to piss off…and when he got like this he sometimes didn’t even listen to you.

The customer glares at him, and dares to open his mouth to respond, but Ghiaccio’s rant wasn’t over and it just pisses him off even more to see the guy had the audacity to try and interrupt him.

“Ghia, hey-”

Yeah he was definitely not gonna listen to your attempt to calm him down. You wonder if he even heard you because he grabbed the guy by the back of the head while you were talking.

“IT DOESN’T MAKE ANY DAMN SENSE WHEN I THINK ABOUT IT! I MEAN, WHAT THE HELL IS THE POINT OF THROWING MONEY ALL OVER THE GROUND?! YOU JUST GET OFF WATCHING HER WASTE A BUNCH OF TIME PICKING THAT ALL UP?!”

Was he…more pissed about the illogical nature of the behavior or the fact that you were being disrespected…?…It’s kinda hard to tell…this ornery yapper on even more ornery yapper violence was Quite a scene this early in the morning…

“DON’T YOU HAVE A LIFE, IDIOT? OR DID YOU GO OUT JUST TO KILL TIME BY POINTLESSLY INCONVENIENCING A WAITRESS?! YOU MIGHT NOT HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE BUT SHE’S GOT AN ACTUAL JOB TO DO AND DOESN’T HAVE TIME TO PLAY 52 CARD PICKUP WITH ENTITLED JERKS LIKE YOU!”

It doesn’t even cross your mind that most people would be mortified to watch their boyfriend completely lose it like this in public, you’re so used to it at this point; you’re thinking about how it’s a bit hypocritical of him given how you’ve witnessed him Also going off on a poor server for nothing.

“GHIACCIO!” you finally make yourself shout, reaching out and grabbing the wrist of the arm he was using to hold the panicking rude customer by the back of the head.

You know Ghiaccio. He was about to slam that man’s head on the table.

“WHAT?!” he snaps, but when he whips his head, you can tell the raging blizzard of his soul wavered just a bit when he looked at you.

“Don’t…you’ll break the table, they’re flimsy…”

His physical strength always astounded you, given he wasn’t particularly large, and he wasn’t even resisting your hand on his wrist but you could still feel the power in his arm. “You already made your point…” you whisper, worried about getting in trouble for the scene he was causing.

“BUT-“

“Thank you, it’s okay…”

He REALLY has to debate it, but reluctantly releases the man with an irritated huff and an audible growl. Such a lucky guy…you were one of the few people who could get Ghiaccio to think before taking something too far.

“Is your shift almost over?” he asks, clearly still incredibly irritated, tapping his foot rapidly against the ground.

“About fifteen minutes to go.” You glance at the trembling rude customer, gazing wide eyed and flinching every time Ghiaccio moved in any way.

He checks his watch and the customer climbs further into the booth out of fear of the simple gesture, but Ghiaccio is forcing himself not to pay him any mind.

“I’ll wait for you in the car then.”

“Alright.”

As long as he left the restaurant…

Now everyone knew he was definitely with you in some capacity…damn.

He sends a pointed glare to a couple of the customers on the way out. A “gentle reminder” to keep manners in mind.

And when you give the rude customer one last look, you see he’s on the ground picking up the money he had tossed at you.

He’s trembling a bit. Probably from fear of Ghiaccio changing his mind and coming back to actually break his face. But he’s probably a bit cold too, just from coming into physical contact with Ghiaccio could leave anyone with a chill if he partly activated his stand while touching someone.

You really needed to have a chat with him about his temper but as the previously inconsiderate customer blubbers out apologies and begs you to protect him from your scary boyfriend while shoving the money (and a generous tip) directly into your hands you hesitantly decide today is not the day.

-Risotto Nero: He doesn’t go out in public often, but minus the whole “leader of an assassination division in the mafia with a truly frightening appearance” he’s a pretty normal guy. Keeps to himself and stoic, but he can hold a conversation. You’re fine with him not visiting you at work often, you get that he’s super busy, but when he does stop by you’re glad to see him (and he doesn’t cause any scenes. Bonus points for Risotto).

It was a slow morning for you, and he had finished an early morning mission earlier than he had expected. He even checked to make sure the diner you worked at wasn’t busy before he decided to stop in and see you.

Your face lights up when you see him, running over to him and giving him a quick hug, and bringing him a small cup of coffee on the house, allowing yourself a brief moment of respite to speak with your boyfriend. It wasn’t busy yet…there were only two other customers, but it was just your luck that one of them woke up on the wrong side of the bed and decided to come over and give you a hard time for taking a moment to spend with Risotto.

“Does your boss pay you to flirt with customers?”

You can’t even believe someone really came over just to say that to you. You weren’t even sitting down to talk to Risotto, and it’s not like you were being loud or obnoxious or anything.

“She’s doing her job,” Risotto points out with that signature stoic nature. The guy seems slightly put off by Risotto’s unique appearance, but was apparently in a bad enough mood to not back down so easily.

“If she was doing her job she’d be bringing me a refill and not wasting her time chatting with a guy she already served,” he points out indignantly. What an insane level of entitlement…Risotto seemed to think the same thing, though he wasn’t a fan of escalating things.

But this guy…he had some audacity talking to you like that.

Risotto puts his hands on the table, and stands up slowly, deliberately, to his full height, tilting his head slightly to better look the smaller man in the eyes.

“She’s just being polite,” Risotto corrects the man. His voice is still calm, but his speaking speed is Slightly slower. Paired with him purposefully emphasizing his full height, the warning that he wasn’t going to stay civil for much longer was clear.

The unwanted visitor inwardly debates for a moment, visibly shaken from Risotto’s intimidation but absolutely too embarrassed to just back off now.

He foolishly decides to keep going.

“She-” he’s cut off by an almost explosive gush of blood coming out of his own nose. You gasp at the suddenness, but instantly realize what’s happening. He slams his hand over his nose, the blood not stopping that easily, almost immediately leaking through his fingers.

“Oh…” Risotto remarks with obviously fake concern, leaning in as if he were examining the “mysterious” nosebleed. “You’d better take care of that before you get blood all over the place…” he states the obvious with complete unconcern.

It was admittedly a bit funny to watch that jerk sprint to the restroom clutching his bloody nose.

There is a minuscule tug to the edges of Risotto’s lips.

“Risotto! Sudden unexplainable nosebleeds aren’t funny at all,” you chide, despite not feeling an ounce of pity. It’s not like Risotto was trying to kill that guy, if he was he would be bleeding out on the ground right now. The goal was just to embarrass him a bit, and he definitely succeeded.

“I think that was just a suitable divine punishment,” Risotto replies with a shrug, as if his stand, Metallica, had nothing to do with it. It’s subtle but…you can tell he’s irritated someone really had that kind of nerve to bother you for no reason. But you won’t let it ruin his whole day, reminding him that you got off work early today and you’ve been really excited to finally have some free time to spend with him.

Author’s closing note: I hope this could bring you some entertainment~it was enjoyable to write and consider how a few of them could use their stands to mess with people but wow I was being sent back to my first job on occasion with some of these customer characters, sheesh-

[m1ckeyb3rry]

CHAPTER FOUR WAS SO GOOD UGHH literally the only fanfic I have ever loved so much and wait for updates like this. Am so excited for the next one!!!

On the topic of finally opening requests, I was wondering if I could ask for head-canons of what a relationship with Seishiro and a female reader would be like. If we want to be specific, maybe related to the fanfic? Like, how you would imagine their relationship would have been like back when they were still in high school, young and with Nagi’s past soccer career and all. Don’t feel pressured to write this, and good luck with everything!😽😽

── DATING NAGI!

Synopsis: Headcanons about having Seishiro Nagi as your boyfriend.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Nagi x Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Content Warnings: none really, just generally fluffy and silly

A/N: AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON i hope you like where i go w the story in the future!! and hehe now that we’re in the past arc of peregrine you will actually get to see all of the nitty gritty details of their relationship in the fic itself so i won’t spoil it 🤫 but i love nagi ofc so i’ve added some general headcanons on what i think he would be like as a bf

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

no matter how the two of you get together, reo is somehow involved LMAOAOAO like bro is ALWAYS at the scene of the crime in some way shape or form just because i don’t think nagi would really pick up on the fact that he has a crush on you without outside intervention

it would also definitely be a jump scare when he confesses!! you would have zero idea it’s coming because he literally hasn’t changed how he acts towards you whatsoever

canonically he doesn’t really interact with a lot of people or have a lot of friends and he’s not aggressive with romance so i just don’t think he’d really know what the appropriate method of telling someone you like them is

would probably say some shit like “reo says i have a crush on you” and would be so nonchalant about it meanwhile you’re like “???” because you did not even realize he knew your name and also why is reo being brought up

i honestly think he would not be a bad boyfriend. yes he is lazy and unmotivated but he does what he needs to do and if something is important to him he generally puts in effort for it

that’s another reason why it would take him foreverrr to ask you out — he would have to like you enough that he realizes he does in fact want to have a relationship with you even if it is a hassle

he doesn’t have social media though so don’t expect there to be an official announcement that you guys are together or anything like that HAHA

he would probably forget to tell anyone that the two of you are dating and it’s not because he’s ashamed of you or is trying to hide you or anything he literally just does not care what other people think and would prefer not to talk them if possible so it never comes up

you’ll show up to an event with him and everyone’s like “omg nagi who is this” and he’s like “this is my girlfriend” and someone (probably otoya tbh) is like “since when have you had a girlfriend” and he’s like “it’s been two years 😐”

i think he would be fire at insulting people just because of how many video games he plays…that man has seen some of the worst sides of humanity

the world is lucky he’s a pacifist and avoids conflict because he has some vile stuff stored away (i will never be over him asking barou if he practiced kneeling because he’s about to make him his servant)

this particular quality makes him the BEST person to talk shit with

he’s not a gossipy boyfriend in the sense that he doesn’t have anything juicy of his own to contribute to the conversation but i’m pretty sure he mentioned he watches dramas at one point so you know he’s locked tf in if you need to complain abt someone

he will sit there and be so invested in the tea…def would not give any useful advice but he will make fun of anyone bothering you so you still end up feeling better

i don’t think he would get jealous honestly

the thought of you cheating on him doesn’t cross his mind at all because why would he date someone he didn’t trust fully???

i would say he expects the same from you because he would but at the same time he voluntarily talks to one (1) other person besides you and that’s reo so the opportunity for you to be jealous just wouldn’t even crop up

definitely super clingy and cuddly

loves being babied too

according to epnagi he has this whole automatic system in his apartment to clean and do laundry and i think he’d be fine if you appropriate that so no more cleaning!! but you will have to cook because that man literally only eats fruit jellies

genuinely how is he so built and not dying of malnutrition SKJFDSHKJ

he probably is terrible at coming up with date ideas so it’s up to you to plan things

again it’s not malicious i think for him just spending time with you is his ideal date!! like he doesn’t see the point in getting dressed up and going somewhere fancy when you could just eat at home and be comfortable together

but if it’s an important day or you tell him that you want him to suggest something for once, he WILL go all out (which means calling reo for advice and doing what he tells him to)

overall communication is key with him. he’s not particularly sensitive or in tune with other people’s emotions so being passive aggressive or expecting him to read your mind will honestly just end up making your mood worse because he will not pick up on the fact that something is wrong

but if you tell him what you want him to change he will happily do it!! he just needs to be told very clearly if you’re upset or need him to do something different

honestly it would be very refreshing. there are zero games with nagi and he doesn’t really try to hide anything — what you see is what you get 100% of the time

overall 10/10 would date idc haters dni he’s a sweetheart and he’s doing his best

[showtoonzfan]

Now I want to talk about Charlie cause good GOD. I never cared much for her in the pilot, I’ll admit that. I always called her boring compared to the other characters because of how developed they were compared to her. However the show takes everything that the pilot build up for her and just made her 10x worse to the point where she’s INSUFFERABLE to watch.

When I got to the very end of the season, I realized that she barley did anything progressive or had an impact on any character, at least what we’ve seen on screen. I understand this was the first season, but what exactly was her arc and what exactly did she do? Nothing. Throughout the season she wasn’t a leader, the most she did was help Sir pen with lessons and have that fight at the heaven trial. In the end they try to act like she overcame some arc about learning to lead and take charge but…she didn’t really. She was helped constantly by people around her, mainly Vaggie/Alastor/Rosie and she never really did anything on her own that was enough to signify her independence as the MAIN character or even the princess of hell. I love how she needed to be TOLD that her girlfriend cared for her…like wow. Vaggie also states that she’s “done so much and touched so many souls”- and all I could think about is how I actually wish we saw that on screen. Husk said she “wants to fix everyone’s problems but her own” and I never got that vibe out of her??? If she was more like Luz from the Owl house where we constantly saw her avoid her own emotions and problems and focus more on helping other people, then it would make sense but guess what, we don’t see any of that because the show is so disinterested in ACTUALLY focusing on Charlie shining at the front and helping people. They scrapped the main premise of her wanting to help sinners and instead used up all the time they had to introduce new characters. It’s all tell and no show as expected.

She’s painted as someone who’s desperate to save her people but when she’s not the focus and actually helping someone, she’s a whiny frustrating crybaby who needs to be coddled or steered in the right direction, and it’s SO hard to watch how her character is treated like a child who can’t do anything. This character has existed for 200+ years canonically but she isn’t written like that. She’s dumb. The fact that she’s such a doormat that she can’t even realize Angel is being abused by Val or even DO ANYTHING about it is fucking baffling, she’s THAT useless. There were so many moments in the show where she could have used her authority or powers to save trouble, but she just doesn’t do it because she’s useless, and I’m tired of people trying to say she’s a pacifist to excuse the shitty writing. She’s also basically Viv’s self insert in a way, an unfunny woman child who’s a hypocrite. Like Charlie is the equivalent of dry white chicken. There’s no seasoning or flavor to her character, she’s SO bland and boring that Lucifer and Alastor end up being more important than her and having more screen time, she’s ATTACHED to them and it really shows, rather than her being at the front. And I know we’re on season 1, but you’d think that Charlie’s childishness would actually be a character flaw and something she needs to overcome and grow up about. But this isn’t really seen as an issue and more of a quirky thing cause Viv thinks being a woman child is funny, the “fuck you you old bitch” scene made me cringe so god damn hard. Everyone has already said it, but Charlie cursing so so forced and unnatural for her character. I don’t like how she’s supposed to be a cinnamon roll but then at the same time swears and acts feral at times. It doesn’t fit.

During the fight scene in the end, she also does absolutely nothing. She made a whole deal about how she wants to defend her people and get back at the angel’s, but aside from throwing Adam and hitting him once, she needed to be protected or saved, Lucifer ended up actually doing the work and it was so hilarious. Speaking of that, Charlie’s daddy issues arc was also rushed, her and Lucifer reuniting and then making up within the same episode was a mistake. Then you realize that her daddy issues was mainly all Charlie had to her in terms of depth and what was explored in the show. I’m so tired of Viv giving her characters daddy issues, it’s getting old lol. But regardless of what Charlie has to her, in general the show just doesn’t focus on her. She’s not the main focal point of the show when she should be. SHE’S the one who wants to redeem sinners, the hotel was her idea. Even tho the pilot was a mess I still felt like she was determined to take the lead due to her beliefs. And yet she still feels like a side/background character who only occasionally gets focus here and there but certainly not compared to the others. The potential is there but due to the favoritism of the writing she’s such an empty and boring character and stayed like that till the very end.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

✨ let’s do a twst trade ✨

Hello ^^;;

This might be coming out of the blue. I’m typically a very private person and tend to stick with social circles I’m already familiar with.

Recently, I’ve been thinking that it would be nice to put myself out there and interact more! I can get easily overwhelmed, so I thought a good way to go about this is to do a handful of art/writing trades. This keeps the number low and conversation approachable, and I think that’d help slowly ease me into being more comfortable interacting and participating in community events.

***UPDATE: Trades now closed, thank you all for the interest!***

Here are the parameters and other important notes (setting these for my own comfort and lifestyle):

This will be a Twisted Wonderland themed trade because that’s the one thing we can guarantee to have in common.

I’ll write a fic for you! Minimum 1-2k words (but I tend to ramble so it could easily go higher than that), starring at least 2 characters (I can write more, but let’s not go too crazy and ask for all 22 NRC students in one fic).

I CAN write platonic, romantic, angst, fluff, yandere, AUs, etc.

I’m okay with writing any and all TWST characters, including staff, RSA students, family members, and other NPCs.

Of course, OCs are also welcome! I’d love to learn more about yours.

Be prepared with references for your OC(s) if applicable. This could include illustrations, but at the bare minimum should include a written explanation of who the character is, their personality, likes/dislikes, and relationships with canon characters.

There are limits to what I will write, as I am uncomfortable with some subject matters. For example, I’m not willing to write anything pregnancy-related. We can discuss my “no goes” in more detail if we decide to trade!

Upon request, I can do a simple digital piece of art OR a washi tape illustration (you won’t receive the physical piece, just a picture of it) for you. I believe most people know me more for my writing, but I wanted to keep these options on the table!

You trade me a fic of your own OR an artwork of roughly the same quantity/quality. As the saying goes, “what you give is what you get.”

We will talk and agree before we start on our pieces what each of us will generally provide at the end. (For example, a 5k word fic for a full color waist up illustration, 1k word fic for a black-white doodle, etc.)

You have to be okay with receiving a vague prompt. I like to be surprised, so I’ll probably just give you a list of general themes, ideas, and characters I like, then set you loose to see what you come up with.

You can be as specific as you like with your own prompt for me though—I’m flexible. Let me know what you don’t like as well so I can avoid including those elements.

To keep things fair, we’ll both hold onto our pieces and exchange them at the same time.

Regarding my written piece, it will be in a Google Doc for you to access.

This is NOT first come, first serve. I can only realistically take on 3-5 trades at this time depending on interest and complexity. If I turn you down, it’s nothing personal!

Priority will be given to mutuals (chances are that there’s more likely to be common ground if we’re already following each other).

Preference will be given to those indicated as adults in their blog intros/profiles (this is just what vibes the best with my personal communication style)

Be patient!! It may take me a few weeks or more to complete my part.

Be aware that doing a trade with me does NOT necessarily mean we will become best friends, and nor should this be the expectation 😅

If you’re okay with the above and are interested in a trade, please DM me! In your DM, you should indicate some prompts/ideas for what you’d like me to write. Please wait for me to respond; do NOT assume that I’ve accepted the trade request just because you’ve messaged me.

[volitioncheck]

does near every single post-canon DE fic out there need to be tagged ‘Sober Harry Du Bois’? i’m getting so tired of it.

do i expect every single piece of fan content to have to fully delve into the often-depressing always-complex topic of addiction? not really. sometimes you just want to write/read a silly fluffy romance one-shot, whatever. i get it. but i think my issue is specifically with the fact that for nearly every sillyfluffy au out there, there almost must be a ‘sober harry du bois’ tag. and it does feel very slapped-on more often than not.

i think to me it is an unconscious statement that nothing *good* can ever happen to harry du bois until he is completely and permanently sober. before solving the next big case, he has to be sober. before quitting the force, he has to be sober. before falling in love with kim, he has to be sober. before accomplishing anything, starting any sort of recovery, making any life improvement, he must first be sober.

sobriety as a goal, as a journey, and honestly as a concept in of itself is not as cut and dry as so many people think it is. and i think it would serve a lot of people well if they did some introspection on the implications of how nearly every single post-canon fic that isn’t dealing directly with harry’s addiction have him as completely sober instead.

if the plot of the fic isn’t going to touch directly on harry’s substance use (and again, i’m not demanding that every single fic should), why does that mean that sober!harry must be the default?

i think i am just tired of reading a casefic, a smutty one-shot, a fantasy au, whatever, where it almost seems that before getting on with the plot, the author feels obligated to first assure us that the harry we’re reading about is a Sober Harry. it’s established with a couple lines in the exposition, probably about his improved appearance, a tag up top, and then never brought up again; a checkmarked box. like the societal image of An Addict has completely prevented people from being able to imagine a person just, continuing to live life, while still struggling with addiction.

life happens, with all of its backslides and achievements, mundanity and changes, to people with drug addictions just as much as people who don’t. is a post-canon harry who isn’t sober not worth writing about?

i think so. i think the game we all played thinks so too. in fact i think that sentiment is woven into the game’s very core. i just wish i saw that reflected in our fan content more.

[khaleesiofalicante]

Greetings,

Once again, I'm here with a mandatory post covering everything you need to know about my next fic, in this case, YBMF. I usually do this upfront to set expectations and answer some burning questions, so let’s dive in!

What's this fic about?

I’d say it’s kind of canon-divergent—it’s a different kind of shadow world with new geography and politics. Think of it like an alternate reality, like Thule, where the core of the characters and the shadow world stay the same, but their fates and storylines are totally different. The fic explores themes of separation—systematic, not just romantic (though maybe that too). I’m playing with similar ideas in my original book, so this feels like good practice!

Who are the main characters?

The story mainly revolves around Malec, but like TLND, it’s a story that has to be told through the four of them to really get the full picture. Everyone gets a POV, their own story arc, and their own journey in the fic. So, honestly, I’d say they’re all main characters.

What's the format?

We’re back to multiple POVs and timelines—yay! Each chapter has two POVs: one from a child and one from a parent. The first half of the story is split between past and present—Max and Rafael cover the present, while Alec and Magnus take us through the past. In the second half, all four of them come together in the present timeline.

Is it angsty?

I’d say so, yeah. It tackles some heavy topics, and as hinted, Malec aren’t together in this fic—so you can definitely expect some angst. I’d place it somewhere between TLND and LBAF in terms of angst levels. Of course, I’ll tag anything potentially triggering as we go, but as always, please prioritize your mental health and read at your own pace. PS - It's always a happy ending though :)

Is this book or show-based?

It’s book-based, especially since the world-building in this one is pretty heavy. I’m leaning on the books and their characters, but you’ll also see some Daniverse/LBAF OCs pop up. You don’t need to have read my other fics to follow this one—but it’s definitely more fun if you have, hehe.

Is it long?

Multiple POV stories tend to be long anyway, but honestly, I never know how long until I’m deep into the writing process. That said, this one is planned to have around 25 chapters (plus or minus 3), so it’s a little on the longer side.

What’s the writing schedule? When will you post?

The writing schedule for this fic is December - March. As usual, I plan to post twice a week (Tuesdays and Fridays - at night).

Okay, that's it. I'll see you on Tuesday with the first chapter! ❤️

[mcuamerica]

The Lake | Eris x Reader

For Eris Week 2024 - Day 5: War | Adventure @erisweekofficial

Summary: The war with Koschei gives Eris and you an adventure you weren't expecting.

Warnings: 18+, suggestive sexual content, canon level violence, not well-proof read (let me know if I forgot anything!)

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears for Eris Week.

It wasn’t exactly easy convincing Rhys to let you spend your time with Eris. You may have eased the worry that Eris was going to hurt you, but that didn’t mean he trusted the male. And he certainly didn’t want you marrying or mating him. Not yet. Not with Beron’s sadistic mind still around. 

But you could spend time with Eris now. And after he helped win the war with Hybern… let’s just say Rhys was more inclined to leave you alone with him. 

When Koschei came about… when he took Elain and Lucien begged Eris for help, you were the one who offered to go with. Because you loved Elain like a sister, like all the Archeron’s. And for Lucien… for the male who helped save your life… you would help his mate. 

Eris needed to help his little brother. Needed to ensure that even if he couldn’t erase the past, maybe he could aid in the present. For Lucien’s future. 

Here you were, Eris and you trekking through some human land where Koschei should have been. You should have found him days ago. Found the lake. But nothing was around. 

“If we don’t find anything by tomorrow… we might have to go back.” You said, finally giving up and sitting down on a rock. “We’ve been at this for days and we haven’t found a thing.” 

“Don’t give up so easily, darling.” He said and knelt down in front of you. “Maybe we need a little… adventure.” He said and stood up, smirking slightly. 

You looked up when he held a hand out. “What would you call what we’re in right now?” You asked. 

“War… but war doesn’t have to be all bleak. And while we look for Elain… maybe we keep have a little fun.” He said. 

“Elain could be suffering-“ you had been thinking as much for the past few days. Lucien was on some curse bound to the Night Court, of course set on by Koschei. The rest of the night court was finding ways to find Elain. And you… for whatever reason whenever Koschei was about to attack… you could sense it. As if your power came from the same darkness he possessed. Eris was there as an anchor for you. To ground you. Ensure your safety. Because even knowing the rest of your family would protect you… no one would do it as fiercely as your mate. Even if it wasn’t official yet. 

“Hey, we’ve been looking. Let’s just… I think there’s something down here. Maybe it’s good. Maybe it’s bad.” He said and shrugged, taking your hand and tugging you down a path. 

You picked up running water and as you rounded a corner full of trees, you found a small lake with a beautiful waterfall. “How can something so beautiful be near something so terrible?” You asked. 

“You’re next to me, I think that speaks for itself.” He said. 

You looked up at him and frowned. “Eris Vanserra… you are not terrible.” You said and cupped his cheek. “You’re the most kind… handsome… amazing male I’ve ever met. And that includes all other High Lords.” You said. 

“I think you’re obligated to say that, you’re my mate.” He said and smirked. 

“Well I mean it.” You said and leaned up, kissing his cheek. “Now what about that adventure?” You asked. 

Eris stared into your eyes for a few more moments. “Hmm… how about I get to see you out of these leathers?” He said, his hands trailing to the buttons on your jacket. “It’s way too hot. And if we’re having an adventure…”

You smirked. “Only if you get to take this off too.” You said and tugged on his tunic. 

His answering smirk only heated your core. “To the water we go, my love.” He whispered and nipped at your neck before pulled away. You watched as he completely stripped, leaving nothing for your mind to imagine as he strutted into the water. Your eyes lingered on his ass, lip between your teeth as he submerged. 

He came out a moment later, dripping in water. His hair was wet and stuck to his head, which struck something deep in your core. 

“Are you coming, darling?” He asked, his large biceps flexing as he leaned against the raised earth. 

With that, you stripped off your top. “Anything you want, High Lord.” He said and smirked, watching as you walked towards him and stripped your clothes. 

“You are magnificent.” He whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. 

You hummed as you walked over to the lake, slipping in the water so your hair didn’t get wet. “Am I?” You teased and swam over to him, smiling when his hands landed on your waist. 

You could feel the wet earth on your toes, sinking just slightly before Eris picked you up. You squealed, laughing as you wrapped your legs around him. You could feel his hard length pressing against your core as you tangled your fingers with his hair. “Why don’t you show me how magnificent I really am?” You whispered, nipping his ear. 

Just as he was about to, you felt him tighten his grip on you, sinking deeper into the water. “What is it?” You asked. 

“This isn’t a normal lake.” He muttered. Before you could inquire further, he hoisted you into the earth. “Run.” 

You watched as he was sucked under water, a yell coming from your lips. “Eris!” 

Your eyes widened as the air became cold, your naked body being drained of all the heat. And with Eris potentially drowning… 

Like hell you were going to run. He was your mate. He may have the intrinsic need to protect you but you have the need to protect him too. So, without even trying to grab your leathers, you dived into the water. 

Black murky water devoured him. It was almost as if he was stuck in the mud itself. He held his breath, knowing he couldn’t keep it up for long.

There was a faint yelling he couldn’t hear. How long has he been down here? He hoped you got out. 

The pulling started. He felt as if the water-mud around him was sucking him dry, even though he was under water. These damn lakes in the human lands. Unless this is Koschei… it can’t be. Eris was shown the lake by Rhys. Who saw it from Vassa. This wasn’t it. 

Unless Koschei changed the appearance to lure you in. Considering how powerful you both were… he might just want to trap you as well. He hoped you ran. 

The water wasn’t clear as you swam through it. You made sure to steer clear of the mud, searching for Eris. Anything at all to let you know that he was still here. You didn’t see his fire bright hair. Or anything to indicate he was here.

You held in screech when you felt something grab your ankle. When you looked back, you couldn’t see anything. But you felt like you were being dragged further. You shot out your magic, but whatever grabbed you didn’t react. If anything, it took your magic. Grew stronger. As soon as you realized it, you stopped. You didn’t have your weapons. They were on shore with the rest of your clothes. How stupid were you both to go into a strange lake without anything on? 

You continued to hold your breath, glad that you had enough capacity as the creature pulled you further down. Were you in the mud? Were you still in the water? You couldn’t tell. But as soon as you tried to take a breath, you saw a light. You kicked the creature off and swam towards the light, gasping for air. 

The land you found was not the same. But a land that had a cabin just on the other side of it. You took a deep breath again, knowing you found Koschei. You looked around, finding Eris’s red hair pop out of the water. You let out a quiet sob as you swam towards him. “You’re okay.” You said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I am… and we found Koschei.” He said. You nodded and looked around. “I can get clothes from the pocket realm. But we need to get out of this lake.” You whispered, then swam to the shore. If Koschei was here or not, he didn’t let on. You got out, mind fully gone of lust as you went towards the wood. You didn’t feel any wards pull at your magic, so you pulled the clothes you held in the pocket realm for this reason. You slipped them on and then tossed a few to Eris. “They’re Cassian’s… he never knows how to hide them.” You said. 

Eris cringed as he put them on. You noticed how the slightly sagged on his body but still fit. Cassian was a large male… and Eris definitely had the same strength if not more, but his build was different. “If you say I look hot in these clothes…” he growled. 

You let out a small giggle, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t even think it.” You said. Honestly, it was a miracle that you even had a sense of humor at all. But… being around Eris did that to you. 

“We need a plan.” You said. “Our magic might make him stronger.” 

“I don’t suppose you have any weapons in the pocket realm?” He asked, sighing when you shook your head. 

He saw the spark in your eye the second the thought reached your mind. His eyes narrowed just as you said, “You’re not going to like this idea…”

Eris walked along the forest edge of the lake, watching as you dove back into the water, swimming straight for the cabin at the other side. Your idea was insane. Maybe genius… but insane. He was fighting every instinct in his body to go after you and pull you away. He knew you could protect yourself. At least for a moment while he got away with Elain. And you. 

He watched a male… creature… walk out of the cabin door, calling to you. His hair was white, his eyes black. Eris knew it was Koschei. And you did too as your head perked up. You used your magic to dry yourself as you swam out of the lake, feigning innocence. Eris walked towards the back of the cabin, knowing the male was distracted by you - the female - too much to notice as Eris AND you probed at the wards, taking them down one by one. 

He walked in the back of the cabin, finding Elain in a room not far from the door. Her clothes were in tatters, but he knew her mind was clear. 

“You should not have come.” She said, standing up. “He will know. He will kill you.” She said. 

“Elain, we need to go.” 

“This is my war to fight.” She said firmly. “Not yours, not my mates, and not (Y/N)’s. You both need to go.” She said. “I have a plan.” 

“Tell it to me now because we aren’t leaving without you.” 

A sense of fear struck him the moment she opened her mouth. The bond… why couldn’t he feel the bond? 

“That would be because I took it away, fox,” a low, gravel-like voice said. It was like sand paper and nails on stone combined. Horrible, ancient. How had Elain stood this? “You won’t be getting to see your mate for a long long time.” He said and smirked. 

Eris turned towards him, shaking with rage. If he so much as laid a hand on you- “What did you do to her?” He asked. He’d worry about that missing piece of him. That hole in his chest later. He needed to see you. Where you were. Bond or not, you were his mate. The one thing in this world that truly made him happy. 

“Oh, she’s in the darkness where she belongs. Where her magic will be mine forever.” He said and smirked. “So much as she stays alive.. Which I plan on making sure of. Such pretty creatures that come from your land… Elain.. (Y/N).. It’s too bad I’m stuck here.” 

Elain had gone quiet and Eris knew well enough to not look at her. If she had a plan, she had to do it now. “And the magic from your lands… the sweet magic.” He smirked. “I can’t wait to see what I can take from a future High Lord, as you like to call yourself. What will I do-” 

His eyes, dark as the night without the moon or stars, turned white. “What are you doing?” He let out a rasp, hand immediately reaching for Elain. She sidestepped him, an uncharacteristic smirk dawning her lips. 

“You will never take from females- or anyone, ever again.” She said and took a deep breath. Eris finally turned to look at her. The eyes she shared with Feyre, white as well. She was somehow in his mind. “Not his mind,” Elain corrected. “I’m in his soul… You see, I found it yesterday. In this little box. And my magic called to it, told me to destroy it. I’m a seer… and I saw all that you’ve done. And I also saw exactly how to kill you. Release everyone from your grasp.” Elain stepped up, a dagger- Lucien’s dagger at her side. “This box really is pretty, too bad I have to destroy it.” She said, placing it on the table. All around her white power glowed, radiation off of her skin, her torn clothes. “Goodbye, Koschei,” she finally said, stabbing the box. 

Eris blocked his eyes as the creature ignited a light brighter than anything he had ever seen before. “What-” 

And just as quick as it happened, he was gone. And the bond… he could feel it again. But it was distant. 

Elain held onto the table and he went to grab her. “I’m fine… go find (Y/N)... Koschei… many of those trapped are going to come out. We need to get her out of here.” 

It was a different kind of darkness, the hole he put you in. Or… whatever it was. You were used to darkness. Your powers craved it most of the time. But this was different. It was void of all life… hope… anything to give you some semblance of reality. You may have only been in there for a few minutes but it felt like days. 

Your magic was being drained from you, every second it would replenish and then be pulled out. Painfully. And the bond with Eris that you tried to tug on to give you some hope… it was gone. You couldn’t feel it. A part of you thought you died. Maybe Koschei killed you and this is what the outcome was. This is what death- what fading truly was like. A miserable darkness that was void of all light and goodness. But then you saw it. That bright, fire red hair. 

Your eyes adjusted as a door opened above you. All the light streamed in and a gasp left your breath. “Eris!” You yelled, taking his hand. He pulled you up right into his arms. 

“Oh thank the Mother.” He whispered. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

You sobbed as you buried your head in his chest. “I want to marry you.” You whispered. 

His head pulled away from yours, cupping your cheeks. “What did you say?” He asked. 

“I want to marry you. I want to mate you. I need- I need this to be official. To be strong.” You answered. “I can’t go another second without being your mate.” 

Tears lined Eris’s eyes. “I will marry you, and mate you, and make you my High Lady whenever you want, my love.” He whispered, kissing your brow. “Let’s get back to your family first.” 

You took a shaky breath, holding onto him. “I’ll kill your father myself. We will be together.” You said. 

“Let’s focus on killing one big bad at a time, shall we?” Elain asked. 

You let out a squeal and looked towards her. “Elain! Thank the Mother you’re okay.” You said and hugged her. “You saved me. You saved everyone. You’re amazing.” You said. 

“I’d like to go home… and speak to my family before we get that far.” She said, a small blush creeping up her cheeks. 

You nodded and smiled, taking Eris’s hand. “Will you do the honor?” You asked him. 

He winked at you. “Of course.” 

“Remind me to never follow you on an adventure.” You teased, Eris’s loud, bright laugh echoing in your ears as he returned you all to the Night Court.

A/N: honestly this is kind of all over the place but I still like it lol

[justagalwhowrites]

Run Rabbit Part 2

You, Joel and Tommy settle into your situation. A continuation of Run Rabbit Part 1, found on Tumblr here.

PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS. Written as part of the @romana-after-dark Dead Dove December event (but posted late because it's impossible for me to make a deadline at the moment apparently.)

Relationship: Joel Miller x Female Reader X Tommy Miller

Warnings: DUBCON (reader is a captive, participation might be enthusiastic but consent is dubious under the circumstances.) Raider!Joel; Raider!Tommy; Captive reader; Canon-typical violence; graphic depictions of violence; graphic depictions of injury; attempted SA (not by Joel or Tommy); Dom/Sub dynamic but not an established relationship; Dom-ish Joel; Brat tamer-ish Joel; Sub-ish reader; DDDNE; M/F/M threesome; unprotected P in V sex; Anal sex; Oral sex; No use of Y/N; Minors DNI 18+ Only. This part is filthy, OK? There are two dicks. They're put to good use. The end.

Length: 17.9k (If I knew what the fuck my problem is, I'd tell you, I swear.)

AO3 | Fic Masterlist | Full Masterlist | Previous Part

You were oddly relieved when Joel and Vince came back the next afternoon. Tommy heard them coming, one ear cocked toward the door when the front step creaked, and he turned back to you quickly. 

“They ask, you’ve been tied up til a few hours ago,” he said. “All my idea to untie you, OK?” 

“OK,” you said, frowning a little but not arguing with someone else taking the heat. You didn’t want to piss off Joel. He seemed to run this whole operation and you wanted to stay on his good side. At least until you could get the fuck away from here. 

But he wasn’t upset that Tommy had untied you. He seemed to expect it. Even though he did bind your wrists again almost the second he was in the door. 

“Here,” he said once you were tied again, digging in his pack. He pulled out a few bottles of shampoo and conditioner and body wash and hand lotion, setting them on the table in front of you. “Thought you could use that. Might make you more comfortable.” 

You frowned, picking up the shampoo as best you could with your tied hands. You looked at the bottle for a moment, as though it was going to reveal something to you somehow. 

“Why do you care if I’m comfortable?” You asked eventually. 

Joel shrugged. 

“Don’t need you to be uncomfortable. Need you to keep us alive. Don’t have to be miserable while you do it.” 

The books kept you busy for a few days, the men sticking close to home for a while. Joel had come back with a nasty cut on his leg that you needed to treat after a few days of him trying to tough it out. He unbound your hands for that and Tommy brightened a bit when he did only to deflate when Joel tied you up once his leg was stitched up. About a week after they got back, the men hauled in water from the rain barrels outside, layers of ice forming on the top. They warmed some up over the fire and partially filled the bathtub, Tommy untying you as they did. 

“Gotta be quick,” Joel said. “Don’t trust you to not take off on us but we’re movin’ tomorrow, may as well get clean while you can.” 

“Moving where?” You asked as Tommy gently pulled the last of the rope from your wrists. You stretched and rotated your joints before you absently traced the indentations in your skin. 

“Not for you to worry about,” Joel said. “Just you and me to start. Vince and Tommy have some shit to finish up down this way first. You’ll be slower to travel with.” 

“I’d be faster if you untied me and I could keep my balance.”

Joel scoffed. 

“It’d be faster if you got with the program, little girl. You’re mine now, not gonna just let you take the fuck off no matter how hard you try.” 

You glared at him but followed him to the small bathroom when he guided you there. 

“I’ll be right outside this door,” he said. “Don’t think about tryin’ anything.” 

“Yeah, because I’ll just climb out through a pipe,” you muttered, closing the door behind you. They’d put a lantern in the room so you weren’t in the dark, at least. 

You got undressed, folding your clothes and setting them on the toilet that was now totally useless as anything besides a chair or a shelf. The fabric was stiff with dirt and sweat and signs of life after you’d lived in it for weeks and you doubted it would ever be clean again. 

The water was warm when you lowered yourself into it, barely coming up over your hips and the tops of your thighs, but enough to get clean. You scrubbed every inch of yourself and washed your hair twice, the water gradually shifting to a sickly gray. You didn’t mind. You felt clean for the first time in well over a month. The last time you’d had a bath, it had been warm enough to jump in a river without freezing half to death. You tried not to think about how long that had been. 

But, when you got out, you realized that you didn’t have clean clothes in the bathroom with you and you weren’t about to put on the old ones now that you were clean. 

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself. 

“Tryin’ to cause trouble in there?” Joel asked from the other side of the door, making you jump. 

“No,” you rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. “I just didn’t think to grab clean clothes before coming in here and my old ones are disgusting.” 

“Oh,” Joel said, voice oddly gentle. “Um… just… one minute.” 

“Can’t go far,” you muttered, trying to dry yourself as best as you could with the scrap of towel that they’d left you in the bathroom while trying not to freeze. 

To his credit, Joel was quick. 

“Got my eyes closed,” he said. “Open the door.” 

You clenched your jaw a little but obeyed, trying to hide your body behind the the door as best you could. Joel held jeans, a flannel, underwear, a bra and socks out to you in a haphazard pile in one hand, covering his eyes with the other. You snorted. 

“What.” 

“Nothing,” you said, taking the clothes as best you could. “Thank you.” 

“Yup.” 

You went to close the door but jumped and shrieked instead. Perched on the edge of the tub was large mouse - or was it a rat? - trying to work its way down into the water without sliding in. You jumped onto the sink on instinct, half of the clothes tumbling to the floor while you clutched the rest to your chest as Joel came bursting in. 

“What!” He asked, looking around for some kind of threat in the tight space. 

“Rat!” You yelled, pointing at the thing on the stained porcelain. “There, on the tub!” 

“Shit,” he grabbed the bucket next to the tub and moved for it but it saw him coming and took off, darting between his legs and into the main part of the house where it was met with a sickening thud. 

“Got it!” Tommy called and you watched as the tension left Joel’s shoulders. 

Your body relaxed, too, even though you flinched a little at the thought that you’d been living here with that thing for who knows how long. 

“You alright?” Joel asked, looking at you. His eyes trailed down over you before coming back to your face and you remembered, suddenly, that you were naked, just a pile of fabric on your lap and held to your chest to hide the parts you’d want to protect the most. 

“Fine,” you said, clutching the clothes tighter to yourself, your heart beating faster than you wanted when you realized just how close Joel was to you. “Just… surprised me, is all.” 

“Right,” he said, eyes dropping to your chest again before quickly coming back up. “Get dressed. Be quick.” 

He stalked out, slamming the door behind him, your heart still thudding against your ribs. 

You got dressed quickly, too jumpy to properly savor the feeling of clean clothes on your clean body. When you emerged from the bathroom, Joel was nowhere to be found. You frowned a little at that as Tommy came back inside, hauling more water to warm over the fire. 

“He stepped out,” he said. “Don’t gotta tie you up quite yet.” 

“Right,” you said, folding yourself into a corner of the couch. Vince watched you from his place at the small table, finger idly tracing over the blade of the knife he was sharpening. You narrowed your eyes. “Can I help you?” 

“No,” he sat back a little further in his chair. “Just clean up good.” 

He adjusted his pants and you tried to ignore the sickening feeling in your stomach when his eyes stayed on you as he did. 

Tommy finished refilling the tub and glanced out the window where it was starting to get dark before he looked back to you. 

“Why don’t we call it a night early,” he said. “C’mon.” 

You looked at him skeptically for a moment. 

“If you’re not in here for him to tie up…” Tommy trailed off. 

“Bed time it is.” 

You followed him deeper into the cabin, no more hint of fear there when you were alone with Tommy. He’d had every opportunity to hurt you. He hadn’t done it. You weren’t sure if you were just desperate for someone to be attached to or if you’d have always come to trust Tommy. But that didn’t much matter. You had what you had. 

“Gotta promise not to take off on me,” he said, his voice low as he sat cross legged on the bed, grabbing the deck of cards from the bedside table. He started to shuffle. “He really won’t let me get away with goin’ easy on you if we gotta go run you down again.” 

“Why do you listen to him?” You asked, keeping your voice quiet, too. “You’re brothers, right? Just talk to him… or take over.” 

He scoffed. 

“Did take over for a bit,” he said. “Right after the outbreak. Did the best I could, little rabbit, but… didn’t go well. Miracle either of us are alive. But he wasn’t in any shape to figure shit out so that left me…” 

“What happened?” You frowned as Tommy started to deal. “Was he injured? Is that why he wants a nurse around so bad?” 

Tommy was quiet for a moment, staring intently at his cards, a hard look on his face. 

“He… he was hurt in the outbreak,” Tommy said eventually. “Still got some of the scars from it. He wasn’t able to make decisions for a while. Had to carry him for a bit, make sure he stayed breathing. I… I’m not cut out for that. Especially not with Joel. It’s better that he leads, trust me.” 

You looked at your hand, not able to picture Joel as anything but what he was. Cold and calculating and always in control. Picturing him hurt and weak made your chest get tight. You weren’t sure why. 

“Game’s Gin Rummy,” Tommy said, clearing his throat. “Usual stakes.” 

When you could hear Joel talking to Vince in low tones in the living room, Tommy folded his hand and gestured to the bed before lying down. You took your spot next to him, hands folded over your stomach. 

“Can’t I go with you instead?” You asked quietly, head turned to see him. 

He looked over at you before for a moment before turning his eyes back to the ceiling, settling down into the pillow. 

“No,” he whispered. “Joel has his reasons. Just… Behave yourself. He’s not gonna hurt you. I know he seems scary but he wouldn’t hurt a woman if he doesn’t have to. Don’t push him.” 

When Joel came in, you pretended to be asleep. You felt his eyes on you, heard the grinding of his teeth and, eventually, the creak of the floorboards as he settled in to sleep. 

The two of you got started early, your hands bound in front of you almost as soon as you were awake. 

“Not gonna get away with so much without my brother around,” Joel muttered as he wound the rope around you. “Don’t try and push your luck, little girl.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you muttered, your attitude tempered by your meek tone. You were about to be alone in the woods with this man for who knows how long. You didn’t want to push him too far. 

Tommy and Vince were outside when you left, getting ready to go do whatever it was they were going to do. You didn’t want to know. Tommy watched as you disappeared into the woods with his brother and you looked back over your shoulder at him, not ready to let go of the comfort you found in his soft, brown eyes. 

“Shouldn’t get so attached, little girl,” Joel said after you’d been walking long enough that you were sure you were out of earshot. 

“Attached to what?” You frowned, glancing back at him, breath rising in front of you. 

“My brother,” he said. “Watch where you’re walkin’.” 

You obeyed, looking ahead. 

“What makes you think I’m attached?” You asked. 

“Sure seem to spend a lot of time together if you’re not,” he said.

“What, you jealous?” You asked before you could stop yourself. You snapped your jaw shut after the words were out. You had to get your mouth under control. It got you in enough trouble before the world ended let alone when you were on the wrong side of a raider’s rifle. 

Joel snorted. 

“Just know Tommy,” he said. “Never found a broken thing he didn’t want to save and he just doesn’t know when to keep his fucking distance. Night of the outbreak I was bailin’ him out of jail because he beat up a guy who was roughin’ up a waitress. It’s a habit he needs to break if he’s gonna live through this shit. You’re just another symptom of his problem.”

That made your stomach clench. Part of you had thought - or maybe just hoped - that you meant something to Tommy. It bothered you that you didn’t. It bothered you more that it mattered. You shouldn’t care, beyond the fact that his affection for you might help you stay alive. 

But, with Zach gone - Zach, who likely hadn’t cared all that much for you, either, given how he handed you over to these men so easily - you had no one besides Tommy. You’d never had no one before. Being so utterly alone was horrifying in a way that even cordyceps weren’t. You weren’t sure you could handle it. 

“What makes you think I’m something he’d need to save?” You asked instead. 

“Little girl…” 

“Woman.” 

“Little girl,” he said again. “All alone after traveling with some guy who was willing to trade her pain for his life? What about that don’t need savin’, desperate to know what I fuckin’ missed.” 

“What’s wrong with a little attachment?” You asked instead of answering. “What, do you not have friends? No wife or girlfriend?” 

“Attachment gets you fuckin’ killed, that’s what’s wrong with attachment,” he snapped, voice more bitter than you were used to hearing, enough that you looked back at him. His face was hard but his eyes were more raw than you’d ever seen them, the pain sharp and harsh and full. You stopped and faced him, searching those eyes for a moment. It was easier to see the resemblance with Tommy now that he wasn’t so closed off and guarded, the moment of weakness bringing his latent humanity to the surface. 

“What happened to you?” You asked quietly, brows drawn together as you traced the planes of his face with your eyes. You’d never really looked at him before, not like this. There had always been a hardness to him that made you look away, like he was dangerous to even look at too closely. It reminded you, now that you thought about it, of something you’d read once about Chernobyl. How the nuclear material from the reactor was so radioactive it melted film and destroyed robots that tried to investigate, let alone what it did to mortal bodies. So poisonous nothing could survive being close enough to really look.

But, in this moment, he wasn’t that. He was just a man who had seen and felt and been taken apart too much. There were scars on his otherwise smooth skin, the most prominent at his nose and temple and you had the strangest urge to reach out and run your fingers over them, to cradle his face and trace your thumbs over the rise of his cheekbones and tell him to close his eyes for a while, to let it all go for a while. 

You weren’t really thinking when you raised your bound hands to touch his skin but he didn’t let you get that far, snatching your wrists out of the air and ripping you harshly to him, making you yelp and stumble. 

“I am not your fucking business,” he snarled. “And you’ll keep your goddamn hands to yourself unless I tell you otherwise.” 

He shoved you back and you almost tripped over a root but you managed to stay standing, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. 

“Move,” he ordered. “Eyes on the fuckin’ trail.” 

You looked at him for another second, the cold cruelty of him back in his eyes. You sniffed but obeyed, turning and following the trail. 

You didn’t say anything else until you stopped for lunch, in a valley that hadn’t gotten snow yet. He pushed you down onto a log and stood over you, broad and domineering. 

“I go take a piss, you’ll stay put, right?” He asked. “Or do I need to do that right in front of you to keep you from fucking around?” 

“I’ll stay put,” you muttered, not looking at him. 

He went into the trees and you sat on the log, staring into space. For some reason, you felt - for the first time - that this was going to be your life now. That you’d always be with Joel and Tommy and Vince and that you’d be at their mercy forever, a tool in their arsenal of pain as they took whatever they wanted from what they called their territory. You’d be trapped and never have a chance at a semblance of a life again. 

The tears came even though you didn’t want them to, spilling over and feeling hot on your cheeks against the cold air. You heard Joel start to return through the brush and you tried to will yourself to stop fucking crying but you couldn’t manage it, your body mourning the loss of any kind of life you’d hoped to have. 

“The fuck is your problem?” Joel asked as you sniffled and dried your eyes on your sleeve as best you could with your bound hands. 

“What do you think?” You snapped, voice wobbly and wet. “This is my life now, isn’t it? Until the day I die - which will probably happen when you get bored with me or decide I’m more trouble than I’m worth and shoot me for it - I’m just some… some… some thing that you haul places and use when you need and I’ll never have another friend or have anyone care about me ever again and I think you can fucking deal with me being upset about that since you’re the one doing it, OK? Just leave me alone.” 

You pulled your knees to your chest as best you could from your place on the log and tried to bury your face there, anything to keep Joel from seeing your pain. 

A few moments later, you felt the log shift below you and Joel nudged you gently. 

“C’mon,” he said, voice oddly soft. “Need to eat something. Got a ways to go yet today.” 

You sniffed. 

“Not hungry.” 

Joel was quiet for a moment. 

“We can wait a bit,” he said eventually. “Making better time than I expected.” 

You ignored him, still trying to force yourself to stop crying. 

“Not gonna kill you,” he said. 

“What?” You pulled your head from where you’d buried it, sniffling a bit. 

“Not gonna kill you,” he said again. You frowned at him. “Just… you said you thought you were gonna die when I got bored with you or… I’m not gonna kill you. Well, you try to kill me or Tommy I might. Or you get bit. Or take off on us. But… short of that, not planning to kill you.” 

“Great,” you sniffed. “Lemme know when plans change I guess…” 

Joel huffed a small laugh. 

“Not gonna change,” he said. “S’not that I really like killing people. Got better hobbies than that. And I try to avoid killing people who don’t deserve it and people I don’t have to kill. You don’t deserve it so I’m not going to kill you unless I have to, it’s simple as that.”

You looked at him for a moment, your tears slowing. 

“Why do you do it then?” You asked. “The stealing and the hurting and the killing? If you don’t like it…” 

Joel looked at you, his eyes searching yours again, a hint of the openness that was in them before. 

“I’m not losing my little brother,” he said eventually. “So I’m going to do whatever I need to do to make sure he stays alive. Right now, that means hurtin’ and killin’ more than I really want. S’OK. I’ll pay that price, long as he stays alive.” 

You watched him, eyes trailing over those scars again. 

“You really think that’s the best way?” You asked softly. “All that killing? All that hurt? It’s got to hurt you, too, do you really think…” 

“Better than the alternative,” he cut you off. “Shit like handing ourselves over to FEDRA for them to lock up in a fuckin’ QZ or being sitting ducks for other people willin’ to hurt and kill first. Better this way, little girl. Trust me on that. Keeps him alive, that’s the important thing. That’s why you’re here. Something happens, it’s not a death sentence.  All that matters.” 

You nodded slowly and sniffed a little. Joel reached forward, his hands still seeming so big, and gently brushed his thumbs below your eyes, drying your tears. 

“You’re alright,” he said softly, holding your cheek in his palm. “S’not so bad. You’re mine now. Take care of what’s mine.” 

You just looked at him, his eyes on yours for a moment, before he cleared his throat and pulled out the bag of jerky, holding it out to you. You tried to reach your bound hands inside but the opening was too small and you made a frustrated noise when he laughed a little. 

“Hold on, I got it.” 

He pulled a piece out and held it out to you. But when you went to take it, he pulled it away and you frowned as he put it just inches away from your lips. 

“Open.” 

You kept your eyes locked on his as you obeyed and he put the salty meat on your tongue slowly, pressing it down into the muscle. You waited until he took his hand back to close your mouth and you chewed, holding his gaze as you did. He got out another piece of jerky, holding it in his thick fingers until you swallowed. He held it up like he did before and you let your mouth fall open so he could feed it to you, his movements disorientingly delicate for a man so large. 

He fed you that way until you had your fill of the jerky and he pulled out an apple and a knife, pressing the blade into the crisp flesh of it and cutting a slender wedge. He brought the first piece to your lips, the fruit balancing on his thumb and the harsh metal. 

“Open,” he said, something low and gravely in his voice. You obeyed and he put the apple on your tongue, the juice of it brushing your lips and making you lick them as he pulled the knife away. He cut a slice off of his own and you watched as his mouth slipped dangerously close to the sharpened edge. He kept his eyes on you as he brought the knife back to the apple and cut into it again and you opened your mouth for him to put the slice inside, the blade that had just been against his lips brushing your own. 

When it was gone, you just looked at him for a moment, watching as his thumb ran over the blade, wiping away all signs of the fruit on the knife before putting it away. 

“Come on,” he said, getting up and grabbing a handful of fabric at the nape of your neck as though you were a disobedient kitten, hefting you to your feet. “Want to clear at least 10 more miles before we stop for the night.” 

“Where are we going?” You asked as he picked up the overstuffed pack that was carrying all your supplies and his. “Why couldn’t we just stay where we were?” 

“Not a great place to ride out winter,” he said. “Other spot’s closer to things we’ll need but far enough away that we shouldn’t run into much trouble. Stayed there last winter, too. Worked well enough.” 

“And you’re, what, just hoping no one’s taken it since you left?” You asked as he nudged you forward. You looked back over your shoulder at him as he shrugged. 

“Just take it back if they did,” he said. “Shouldn’t get there ’til tomorrow night, anyway. Expect Tommy and Vince round midday the day after. Watch where you’re goin’, can’t have you breaking your fuckin’ leg out here…” 

“Tomorrow?” You frowned before looking straight ahead. “Where are we stopping tonight?” 

“Somewhere that looks good,” he said. “We’ll be sleeping rough.” 

“Do we have the gear for that?” You asked looking back at him to see him glare at you before you looked forward again. “It’s cold…” 

“Thought you were some outdoorsy thing, little girl,” he said. “Can’t handle a little cold?” 

You hated being cold. You didn’t say that. 

“More worried about you,” you replied. “You drop dead on me out here, makes my life a whole lot harder. Have to try to cut myself out of these damn ropes…” 

“Not dropping dead on you,” he said. “Keep goin’, don’t waste your energy talking to me…” 

You rolled your eyes a little but pressed on, putting one foot in front of the other and trying to ignore the imposing man at your back. 

Joel called for a stop hours later at a small indentation in a cliffside that was protected from wind. He set out the bed rolls and fed you again, just like he had at lunch, each piece of food going from his hands to your lips. 

“Can’t we have a fire?” You asked, trying not to shiver as the sun set. Joel looked at you, incredulous. “What?” 

“Why do you think we can’t have a fucking fire?” He asked, brows raised. 

You sighed. 

“I guess it might attract people…” 

“It would attract people,” he corrected you. “With Tommy and Vince around I wouldn’t give a shit but you? You’re a liability. Don’t much want to deal with trying to keep us both alive on my own. No fire.” 

You tucked your hands between your thighs and shivered a little. Joel raised his brows at you. 

“What?” You snapped. “I’m cold. It’s cold. Sue me.” 

“Don’t think suin’ you would do much good nowadays.” 

“Shut up.” 

He snorted and laughed a little. 

“Hold on,” he said, getting up and dragging his sleeping bag over next to yours before settling on top of it, sitting close to you. He held his arm out and you frowned. “Come on. Best way to get warm is to get close. Won’t bite and you’ll live, promise.” 

You glared at him but tucked yourself against his side all the same. He was right, it was warmer there. Joel seemed to just emanate heat, even through his thick suede coat. He even smelled warm, like cedar and sharp spice and crisp apple. You wedged your hands between your thigh and his and Joel frowned. 

“The hell are you that cold?” He muttered. “Feel like ice even through my damn jeans…” 

He pulled off the glove on the hand that wasn’t on your arm with his teeth and enveloped your hands in his much larger one. He pulled them to his mouth and breathed into your tight fingers, the heat of his breath seeping into your skin. 

“Don’t think we got more gloves but we can put some socks on your hands or somethin’ tomorrow,” he said. “No good to me if you lose your fuckin’ fingers.” 

“I could put them in my pockets if you just untied me,” you said, an almost teasing edge to your voice. 

“No good to me if you take off, either,” he said. You could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Can’t trust you yet. 

“You think I can trust you?” You asked, looking up at him as best you could from your position tucked against his side. 

“No,” he said. “But I don’t need you to. You don’t get a choice here, little girl, I do. Don’t matter if you trust me.”

“It’d be easier if I did,” you said quietly. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “Imagine so.” 

You drifted off there, tucked against his side, and when you woke up, you were curled into his warm body, his arm securely around your middle, sleeping bag around you both. His breath was warm against your skin, his nose buried in your hair, his broad chest firm at your back. You weren’t sure what to do and were trying to figure out when he stirred, groaning a little as he adjusted his arm before sitting up. 

“Gotta get you better cold weather gear,” he muttered. “Don’t know how the fuck you survived last winter…” 

“Stayed to the south,” you replied. “Which you should do, too, by the way…” 

“Lot more competition to the south,” he said. “Don’t feel like havin’ a big crew. Works better to stay up this way with just us.” 

“Probably fine when you’re a furnace,” you muttered. 

“Get moving,” he nudged you. “You’ll be warmer when you’re walking.” 

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, getting out of the way enough that Joel could get up and pull you to your feet. He put socks over your bound hands and you tried not to laugh. 

He sighed. 

“What now?” 

“Most fucked up sock puppets…” You wriggled your hand into the right position as best you could to give it a mouth and he rolled his eyes. 

“Should never have told you I’m not planning on killin’ you unless you make me,” he muttered. “Just be insufferable now.” 

You smirked a little as you walked and you felt like you made decent time that morning. Joel fed you again when you stopped for lunch, tracing his thumb over the plush swell of your lower lip to wipe away a drop of juice from the apple, but you didn’t talk like you had the day before. Beyond the intimacy of him feeding you, his eyes lingering on your lips and throat, he was distant, teeth grinding and looking off into the trees when he wasn’t watching you. 

It was mid-afternoon when you heard it, the haggard pants and inhuman gargle of infected. 

“Joel,” you whispered, whipping back to look at him. He grabbed your shoulder and all but threw you behind him, his rifle raised. You pressed tight against his back. “Joel, I don’t have a gun, I can’t…” 

“Hush,” he said, hardly glancing back at you. “Told you, you’re mine and I protect what’s mine. You’ll be OK.” 

You winced and tried not to cry, pressing your forehead into Joel’s back. He was warm. Solid. Safe. You had to trust that he was going to take care of you, you didn’t have another choice. 

There was a snarl at your left and Joel turned so fast it made your head spin, his left leg coming back and catching against yours, forcing you to move with him so you were still protected by his large, broad body as he faced the infected head on. 

The crack of the gun made you flinch and you tried to focus on the feel of Joel as you moved with him as he backed up, staying where his legs guided you, keeping you tucked safely against him as he fired round after round, the snarling getting louder and closer until, suddenly, you felt the harsh grasp of a hand on your elbow. It ripped you back into a body that was more like your own - about the same height, none of the almost inhuman broadness of the man in front of you - and the thing snarled. 

“Joel!” You shrieked, trying your best to rip yourself away from it as it pulled your arms toward its mouth so hard it almost dislocated your shoulder. “Joel, please!” 

The infected sank its teeth into your arm but didn’t penetrate the thick coat as you tried to rip yourself free. For a moment, you thought you had, the pressure from its jaw letting up. But it just roared, gripping you tighter and pulling you closer, searching for skin it could reach. 

For a moment, as you watched what used to be a human woman stretch her open mouth toward your throat, you were almost surprised that this was how it was going to end for you. 

It shouldn’t be a surprise. It was the apocalypse, after all. It should make sense that the thing that made the world end took you out, too. But it had felt all but impossible for so long. Like you’d survived so much, worked so hard, pushed for so long that it wasn’t coming for you anymore. Like, eventually, things were going to slot into place and you were going to have a semblance of a life the the reality you now called home. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. You weren’t supposed to end like this. 

The butt of Joel’s rifle snapped you out of your own head, the stock coming down hard on the woman’s head and she shrieked, shoving you aside so that you fell flat on your back, and shifting her attention to Joel. He thrust her back and quickly snapped his gun around, shooting her in the head. She dropped where she stood and Joel lowered the gun ever so slightly, breathing heavy, surveying the woods around you both for any impending threats. After a moment, he slung the rifle on his back and all but ran to you, dropping to one knee at your side, his brown eyes wide as they ranged over you again and again. 

“Hey,” he said once he’d looked you over, his gaze locking on yours. “You’re OK. Take a deep breath for me, you’re OK, I’ve got you, you’re OK…” 

You realized then that your breaths were coming in short, harsh gasps, that your whole body was shaking. Joel pulled off a glove and took your face almost harshly in his hand. 

“Look at me,” he said, giving you a rough shake as he did. “Just me. Infected are gone, there were just six of them and I got ‘em all. You’re OK, not bit. Neither am I. It’s OK. Just you and me. I’ve got you, just focus on me.” 

You nodded in his grip, tears stinging your eyes, but you couldn’t seem to calm your breathing down. You just weren’t getting enough air and your body couldn’t calm down enough to slow your breaths. Your head spun and your bound hands found Joel’s bicep, fingertips digging into the muscle and the thickness of his coat. Something made a nearby bush rustle and your eyes darted, wide and frantic, not able to turn your head in Joel’s grip. 

“Hey!” His voice was sharper, your eyes shooting to him again, afraid you’d pissed him off now. But he didn’t look mad, he looked worried. His eyes were still wide and they were warm and you had the passing thought that, maybe, dying wouldn’t be as bad if you got to look in those eyes when you went. “There you go, keep lookin’ at me, I’ve got you.” The hand that wasn’t clutched onto your head, fingertips clutching into your hair and skull, went to your chest. His palm pressed over your breasts, near your sternum, fingers splaying wide over your skin. “Gonna get you to breathe deep, just stick with me, OK? Out first…” He pressed down with firm, even pressure and you emptied your lungs. Just as your panic was going to kick into high gear, his hand relaxed. “And in, pull that air down low, OK? Focus on it, focus on me, follow my hand with your chest, you’re OK.” 

You did your best to obey, pulling air into you and trying desperately to fill the empty spaces inside yourself, your chest chasing the heat of his callused palm. 

“Out now,” he said, his voice so calm, adding pressure to his hand again and pushing the air from your lungs until they were empty. “Good, doing good, in this time.” 

You nodded and breathed deep, chasing his palm, and started feeling calmer then. Your heart wasn’t beating quite so fast, the feeling that you were suffocating inside your skin fading. 

“Feeling better?” He asked, his grip on you loosening. You just nodded. “Gonna help you sit up now…” He pulled you up, one of his large hands in the middle of your back, the other on your bound hands. “Take another deep breath for me.” 

You obeyed and he carefully guided you so that your back was against a tree. 

“Catch your breath,” he said. “We’ll take a few minutes, then move on. This time of year, shouldn’t be a much infected around here. Don’t think we’ve got more comin’.” 

You nodded and breathed slow and deep, closing your eyes, concentrating on the prickle of the cold air in your lungs and then the warm fog of it rising in front of you. 

“Think you’re ready to move?” Joel asked after a few minutes. You opened your eyes. He was still there, right next to you, watching you closely with those soft brown eyes. 

“Yeah,” you said, voice shaky. “I’m… I’ve never been that close to one before, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have panicked…” 

“S’OK,” Joel said. “They’re… well, they’re fuckin’ scary. It’s alright.” 

You watched him for a moment and frowned a little. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You asked quietly. 

His brows knitted together, frowning back. 

“Only as mean as you make me be, little girl. Never wanted to hurt you. Just wanted to keep you and I’ll be as mean as I need to keep you.” 

He stood up and took your elbow, pulling you to your feet. 

“Should get moving,” he said. “Got a miles to go yet and we don’t know what we’re walking into when we get there. Let’s go.” 

You stayed close to Joel the rest of the hike, never going more than a minute or two without looking back over your shoulder to make sure he was still close even though you could hear him at your back. 

It was nightfall when you reached the cabin that Joel had mentioned. The setting was idyllic, you could see why he’d want to set up long term. There were no obvious paths leading to the cabin that you could see, Joel routing you off an apparent dead end to the trail around through the brush and over a stream to get to it. The land around it was dense with trees to the point that it was hard to even see the cabin until you were at the right angle. The woodpile on the front porch was low and the windows were dark. Joel tucked you into a bush at the edge of the clearing made for what had once been a drive for the cabin. 

“Stay put,” he said. “Don’t make me run you down.” 

He didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he crept closer to the cabin, moving slowly and quietly up to the front door with his gun at the ready. He checked something at the hinge of the door and relaxed a little when he did, slinging his rifle onto his back and coming back for you in the brush. 

“No one’s been here since we left in April,” he said, helping you through the rougher parts of the ground. “Should be safe. Left some firewood last time, enough to last us a few days at least…” 

“We can have a fire?” Your face lit up. 

Joel smiled a little. 

“We can have a fire,” he said. “Can’t let you fuckin’ freeze to death, you’re useless if you’re dead.” 

“Or frostbitten,” you said. “Also useless if I’m frostbitten.” You could almost hear him roll his eyes. 

Joel built a fire and you sat in front of it, warming your hands at the flames and luxuriating in the heat as he went about setting up other parts of the cabin. You just checked to make sure you knew where he was every minute or two, being far from him making your stomach churn and your thoughts race. If Joel was far away, anything could happen and you’d be helpless to stop it. Without Joel, you’d be one of those things by now. Without Joel, you weren’t safe. 

It was a ludicrous thought, some part of you knew that. He was the reason you were out here to begin with. He was the reason you were so spectacularly useless in a fight right now (not that you’d ever been particularly good at brawling.) 

But he had protected you like no one else had. He’d protected you from Vince’s threats when you’d run away and he had every reason to just let the other man kill you. He’d put himself between you and half a dozen infected when he could have just let them have you while he picked them off. He took care of you, he looked out for you. You wouldn’t need nearly as much of either if he’d just left you with Zach but Zach had been fine trading you away to protect himself. Who knows how long you’d have lasted with him. And, while your survival skills were fine before the apocalypse, they were the kind that let you survive in the wilderness for a few weeks. They weren’t the kind that taught you how to fight monsters both human and inhuman. Joel might have literally tied you down but him and Tommy were the safest you could imagine being right now. 

The thought made you dig your nails into your palms and you tried not to focus on it as you stared at the flames as they chewed at the wood in the fireplace. But you weren’t able to ignore it for long, not when you realized you hadn’t heard or seen Joel in several minutes. 

“Joel?” You asked the darkness of the cabin. There was no response. 

You got up and crept toward the back of the structure, toward the rooms you hadn’t been in yet. But you couldn’t bring yourself to open any of the doors. 

“Joel?” You whispered. You gave him a second to reply and then headed for the front door. 

Night had fully fallen and you could only see what was illuminated by the glow of the fire through the window, the tree cover too dense to let in much light from the moon. Did you dare leave the porch? You weren’t trying to run away but Joel didn’t know that. One of the exceptions to the “not going to kill you” thing was you running. But what if he got hurt? What if infected showed up at the cabin? 

What if you were alone? 

“Joel?” 

“Thought you were cold?” His voice appeared from the side of the porch, making you jump. He walked around to the steps, water bottles in hand. 

“You were gone a while,” you said, indignant. 

Joel scoffed. 

“I was gone all of five minutes.” 

“It was longer than that.” 

“Well, I had to clear out the water pump, hadn’t been used in a bit,” he said. “Got it goin’ good, well’s still set…” He trailed off and considered you for a second, brows raised. “Were you worried, little girl?” 

It was your turn to scoff.

“No,” you rolled your eyes and looked toward the glow of the fire inside. “I just…” 

“You were worried,” he smirked. “Don’t worry, not gonna let the monsters get ya. Head inside.” 

“Only monster I’m worried about here is you,” you snapped. You regretted it almost as soon as you said it. Joel’s cocky smile sank enough that the dimple on his cheek disappeared and some of the softness left his eyes. 

“Get inside,” he said. “Before I give you somethin’ to worry about.” 

You sat by the fire, trying to check on what Joel was doing without showing that you were watching him. Eventually, he came and grabbed your elbow, pulling you sharply to your feet with a small yelp. 

“We’ll figure out sleeping arrangements once Tommy and Vince get here,” he said. “For now, we’re bunking together. Don’t trust you to behave otherwise.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to argue as he dragged you along behind him to one of the back rooms you’d been too afraid to open before. There was a king bed inside, made up with plush looking blankets and sheets. Joel helped you get your boots off but otherwise, you climbed in bed fully clothed on the side away from the door. He lay down, his back to you. You were pretty sure his arms were crossed and his back look tense. 

“Joel?” You said softly. 

“Hm.” 

“When they get here,” you said, still whispering even though there was no one else to hear you. “Please don’t make me sleep with Vince. Please. I’ll do whatever you want but…” 

“Not gonna make you share with him,” he cut you off, looking back over his shoulder toward you for a moment before looking straight ahead again. “It’ll be me or Tommy, not him.” 

“OK.” 

You were quiet for a few minutes but you were pretty sure Joel was still awake when you spoke again. 

“Joel?” 

He sighed. 

“Hm.” 

“Can I sleep closer?” You asked softly. He half rolled to try to look at you in the dark. “I just… I’m cold. You’re warm.” 

He sighed again but rolled onto his back and held his arm out. 

“C’mere.” 

You scooted closer until your head was against his chest and he put his arm loosely around you. You took a deep breath and sighed contentedly, not able to help it. 

“Surprised you’d want to be this close to a monster,” he said. He meant it to be wry, you could tell that, but there was a twinge on the last word that gave him away. 

“Well,” you said, adjusting your tied wrists as best you could. “Maybe… Monsters aren’t all bad. And some are warm. So.” 

He sighed. 

“Go to sleep.” 

Just as you were about to drift off, you felt his arm tighten around your shoulders, pulling you in closer. 

Tommy and Vince made it the next day with more supplies than they’d left the last place with. But, while Tommy had made it in one piece, Vince wasn’t so lucky. His arm had been dislocated and he’d taken a knife to the arm. Joel untied you and you needed Joel and Tommy’s help to position Vince to pop his arm back into place. You made him a sling and treated the wound on his arm, doing your best to keep it from getting infected before stitching it closed. 

You weren’t sure how bad the injury really was without the proper diagnostic tools but it seemed like Vince was making it out to be more than it was. You kept checking for signs of infection because he seemed to be constant pain, enough that Tommy and Joel were doing the bulk of the work to set up the cabin to ride out the winter. You helped where you could but Joel insisted on binding your hands again once Vince was patched up and you’d gotten cleaned up from the trip, so your skills were limited. 

The four of you had been at the cabin for more than a week when you noticed a shift. You still weren’t party to the discussions the men had, the three of them sending you behind closed doors while they conducted business, but you were certain that Joel and Tommy were getting ready to leave again. 

When you went to bed with Tommy that night, he confirmed your suspicions and your stomach dropped. 

“Can I come?” You asked. He looked at you for a moment, brows raised. “I won’t be much good at patching you up from afar…” 

“Hard to travel with you when we gotta keep you tied up,” he said, going back to gathering extra socks. 

“I’ll be good,” you said quickly. “I’ll do whatever you want, just bring me…” 

“Why do you want to come along so bad, Rabbit?” He asked. “Didn’t think you’d much want to be there when we raid groups…” 

“I don’t care,” you said quickly, even though the thought of watching them kill someone the way they’d killed Zach made your stomach turn. “I’ll behave, just don’t leave me here with…” 

Tommy’s head whipped around, his eyes narrowed. 

“Vince do somethin’ to you?” He asked. “He say something?” 

“No,” you shook your head, clenching your jaw. “Well, nothing big but I just… I have a bad feeling about him. I don’t trust him.” 

“And you trust me and Joel?” He asked, skeptical. 

“Not really,” you replied. “But… more than him.” 

“He knows not to touch you,” Tommy said. “We’ll only be gone a few days, week at most. We know a place only about a day from here where we can reliably find what we need. Shouldn’t take too long…” 

Your eyes went wide. A week. A week with just Vince. That was so much longer than you’d realized it would be. How were you supposed to avoid him for a week? 

“Can’t you stay and Joel goes with Vince?” You pleaded. “Or you and Vince go and leave Joel here? Just…” 

“Can’t,” Tommy said. “He’s still hurt and we’re low on supplies, we need to go now and we can’t risk bringin’ him. You really that afraid of him?” 

You tightened your jaw for a moment before nodding once. 

Tommy sighed. 

“Well, he’s hurt. Don’t think he’s gonna do much to you when he can’t use one arm. You’ll be OK. Next run we’ll figure out somethin’ else, OK?” 

You dug your nails into your palms. 

“Yeah,” you said. “OK.” 

Joel and Tommy left the next morning. You stood on the porch and watched their path long after they’d made it out of sight before sighing and going back inside. 

“Just you and me now,” he smirked from his position on the couch. “You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?” 

 You didn’t answer. You just looked at him for a moment before heading back to the room you stayed in every night with Joel or Tommy and curled up in the middle of the big bed, the binds on your wrists feeling worse than they had in weeks. 

For the first two days, it was fine. Mostly. You generally avoided Vince, the man humming Run Rabbit anytime you were within earshot, making your whole body tense. Instead, you were just hanging out in the bedroom and sleeping or reading or just staring at the grain of the wood walls wondering if this was just what your life would be now. What if something happened and Joel and Tommy didn’t come back? What if Vince just left you here, tied up, forever? 

What if you were alone? 

The third day, you started getting suspicious of Vince’s claimed injury. Given what you knew, he should be doing much better at this point but he’d kept claiming he was in too much pain to even use his arm. It wasn’t impossible, of course, and it was hard to see what kind of intervention he would need in a cabin without the proper tools, so you were hoping that more time did the trick. But when you emerged from the bedroom that afternoon to use the bathroom, you found him in the kitchen, both arms stretched to reach something on a top shelf. You frowned and stood there, waiting for him to notice you. When he turned around, he jumped before smirking, putting his arm back in its sling. 

“Aren’t you a sneaky thing?” He asked, prowling over and standing just inches away from you. “See something you like?” 

“Arm looks like it’s doing better,” you replied, nodding to it. “Want me to look it over?” 

“Still hurts like a bitch,” he replied. “Just needed two hands so I lived with it for a minute. That OK with you, Florence Nightingale?” 

You shrugged. 

“Doesn’t matter to me if you fuck up your arm,” you replied. “Be my guest.” 

You ducked around him to go to the outhouse but his hand closed around your arm, yanking you back into him with a small yelp. 

“Think you’d be more invested,” he said, his face close to yours. “Only useful as because you can patch people up. Think the Millers will be so keen to keep you around if you can’t even do that right?” 

“Right,” you said. “Maybe I should be worse at it so they let me go.” 

“You really think they’d let you go?” He laughed. “You stupid girl. They’d kill you. Not gonna just let you wander around knowing where they like to hide out and what they have. You stop being useful, you’re dead. Just hope they let me have some fun with you first.” 

You wanted to throw Joel’s words back in his face, that he said he wasn’t going to kill you, not unless you made him. But you weren’t sure how much you could trust any of it. It felt like you could believe what Joel told you but he was keeping you tied up in a cabin in the woods. How much could you trust anything he said? 

Instead, you just pulled your arm away.

“I have to pee.” 

He laughed once. 

“Don’t go far,” he said. “Hate to have to run you down out there…” 

He started humming Run Rabbit again. 

The next afternoon, you knew he was lying about the arm. 

You emerged from the bedroom to find something to eat and found him sitting at the small table, bag of jerky and a bottle of whiskey in front of him, sling hanging off the back of the chair. 

“Good to see my medicinal skills are up to snuff,” you said derisively, going for the cabinet you knew held the jerky. “Guess I’ll live to bother you another day.” 

“Know what?” He snapped, shoving back from the table and stomping over to you, closing the gap between you in just two steps. “Think I’m getting tired of your smart fucking mouth…” 

You realized suddenly just how big Vince was. He was shorter than Joel so you didn’t notice it most of the time but, when he had you pressed back against the counter as you shrank back from him, you were suddenly very aware that he was large, more broad than he was expressly tall. Definitely big enough to do serious damage if he set his mind to it. His hand whipped forward and latched onto your jaw, his fingertips digging into your cheek, grip so tight you were worried he was going to dislocate it. 

“Sorry,” you said quickly. “I’m sorry, I’ll…” 

“Think I’m about done dealing with your shit,” he growled, the smell of liquor harsh on his breath. “Think it’s about time I got my due.” 

He pulled you around, hand still on your jaw, and shoved you back, making you stumble over a chair. You scrambled back from him, looking quickly back over your shoulder, trying desperately to keep from falling. 

“You don’t want to do this,” you said, looking back to him. “You really don’t want to piss off Joel and Tommy like that, please…” 

He laughed once, darkly. 

“You think they want you to themselves that bad?” He asked, prowling closer. “Nah, I don’t think they’ll much care. Besides, maybe I’ll just have my fun with you then kill you. Tell ‘em you took off. You already tried it once…” 

“No,” you shook your head, trying to ignore how your throat clenched tight as he drew near. “No, you don’t…” 

“Think I do,” he said as you backed into the couch. He was only about a foot away from you. Your eyes darted toward the door and you made the call, ducking below his groping arm and running for it. 

He grabbed at you but you dodged it, all but ripping the door off its hinges as you ran out into the cold afternoon air. Dusk was on the horizon and you were going to be stuck running from him in the dark with your hands tied but it was better than the alternative. 

You heard the gunshot a split second before you felt it, the force of the bullet sending you sprawling forward as you screamed in pain. There was a second of shock, of disbelief, as you lay face down in the dirt. You felt the warm wetness of your blood before you felt the sharp pain of a hole being blown through your body. You rolled onto your uninjured side and tried to assess it as best you could, not really able to reach the wound because of how your hands were tied. It was on the right side of your body, so far to the side that you thought it might have missed most major organs and just caught skin and muscle and fat. But you couldn’t be sure. 

You tried to shove yourself up, side screaming in pain, the wound pulling, the muscle ragged, but Vince was on you too fast. He shoved you onto your back and kicked your legs apart before kneeling between them.

“No!” You shrieked, trying to scramble back from him but he grabbed you harshly at your waist, his fingers digging into your open wound and making you scream in pain. 

“You’re mine now,” he panted over you. “This’ll be a lot easier on you if you just cooperate…” 

You tried to shove him back but couldn’t get leverage, not with your hands bound. A strangled sob slipped from you as you tried to wrest yourself away but it didn’t work, Vince just slamming you down into the dirt before punching you across the face. The blow made your brain rattle in your skull and you lay there, blinking in shock for a moment as he started to fumble with your pants. 

“Help!” You screamed, voice thick and wet. “Joel, Tommy!” 

“Shut up,” he seethed over you, trying to force your pants down over your hips. You ignored him, still screaming, legs kicking uselessly. He punched you again and you went still and quiet, head swimming. “Shut up you stupid fuckin’ girl. Take what I give you and you’ll fuckin’ like it.” 

“Joel!” You shrieked. “Tommy!” 

It was desperate, you knew that. They said they’d be gone close to a week, it had just been days. This was it.

Vince’s hand latched around your throat, shoving you down into the earth. You tried to breathe around his fingers but you couldn’t manage it, his grip too tight. You clawed at his arms with your tied hands and tried to gulp in air, your vision starting to fade. 

“Told you you should’ve cooperated,” he panted over you. “Should’ve fuckin’ listened…” 

You could hardly see his face over you anymore, the world seeming far away, when the weight of him disappeared and you could breathe.

***

Tommy wasn’t thrilled about leaving you behind. 

He hadn’t been thrilled about it before you talked to him. He’d been trusting Vince less and less over the last few weeks. He’d never been Tommy’s favorite person but he had decent enough skills, generally listened when Joel told him what to do and it was helpful to always outnumber pairs when hunting. 

But ever since they’d taken you, Tommy was questioning whether keeping him around was smart. 

Of course, he’d been conflicted about taking you from the beginning. He hadn’t gotten into this to take fucking captives, he’d gotten into this because it seemed like the only way to stay alive was to take. There wasn’t enough to go around so some people were going to have to go without. That’s just the way it worked. He just wanted to make sure the people going without weren’t him and Joel. 

Survival of the fittest, after all. 

But he understood why Joel had taken you. You had valuable skills, valuable enough that you were worth feeding and monitoring. It was worth it to go outside the norm for you. Even though he hated keeping you tied up. But he figured he’d wear Joel down on that eventually. 

He didn’t like leaving you behind like this before you’d talked to him about Vince and all but begged him to bring you along. You had to really distrust Vince to want to come on a hunt like this. It made him uneasy. 

So he was relieved when he and Joel had stumbled upon a small group of men traveling just two days after they’d left the cabin. It was a good haul, enough to set them up for a few months and get them through a stretch of winter. They’d need to head out again at some point - or just hunt and trap animals near the cabin if it looked like the ammo, fuel and battery supply would hold out - but they had some security for a while. 

“I really think she’s gonna like some of what we got,” Tommy said as they were getting close to the cabin again. “Think the books are up her alley and they had medical supplies. Legit ones. That’ll make her happy.” 

“Can’t get too attached,” Joel said, not for the first time. Tommy rolled his eyes. Joel glanced over at him. “I’m serious. It’s a risk. You’re gettin’ too involved with her and can’t afford you making stupid fuckin’ choices because you’re worried about her. She’s with us to make sure you keep breathing, not to be your fuckin’ friend.” 

“Here to keep you breathing, too, right?” Tommy asked. 

Joel was quiet for a moment. 

“Right?” He said again.

“Sure,” Joel said. “Right.” 

Tommy clenched his jaw but stared straight ahead. 

He wasn’t sure if his brother was cautioning him because he was worried about Tommy or because he was worried about himself. 

Tommy wasn’t a fucking idiot. He saw what was happening with Joel. He’d been there when Sarah died, saw the pain in his brother’s face as he held his daughter’s broken body. He’d clung to her until she went cold, on the ground where she’d died at first and then for hours as they tried to find a way out of Austin and away from the carnage of the outbreak. He carried her body until he couldn’t anymore, dropping to his knees on the east side of town with smoke in the distance. 

Tommy had tried to find a way to bury her, even just a shallow grave, but infected put a stop to that. Tommy had to drag Joel away, screaming and fighting him the whole way. 

He put a gun to his head that afternoon. It was a miracle he survived but, sometimes, Tommy wasn’t sure he really had. The Joel he knew, the Joel who he’d grown up with, the Joel who’d damn near raised him during his teenage years as their mother’s health declined, the Joel who lived for his daughter had died with her. In his place was the man he was now. Harsher, colder, and more like Tommy when he got mad than Tommy was really proud of. 

But things had shifted with you. He’d bought Joel’s reasoning at first and, in hindsight, he thought it was because Joel believed it himself then. That you were too valuable to just let go, that you wouldn’t survive long on your own so keeping you was a kindness. 

Now, though, Joel was attached. Tommy could see it, even if Joel couldn’t. He’d first noticed on a morning where Joel had been the one in bed with you. Tommy pulled a shirt on, you curled in on yourself in that way you did, and he caught Joel tucking the blankets in around your sleeping form. Tommy raised his brows at him and he just frowned. 

“S’cold,” he said softly before ducking around Tommy and leaving the room. 

It was the first sign he’d seen of Joel caring about anything outside of Tommy since Sarah died. 

After that, it was obvious. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it before but, the second he knew to look for it, he saw signs of Joel caring everywhere. He stopped Vince from finishing the jerky he knew you liked best and set it aside for you. He made fires on nights Tommy knew he wouldn’t bother otherwise because you got cold. He saw you struggling to tie your boots with your bound hands and brushed your hands aside, kneeling at your feet to tie them for you. You complained the whole time, said that you were perfectly capable of tying your shoes if he’d just untie you. Joel just rolled his eyes, tucking your laces behind the tongue of the boot before getting to his feet again. 

“You know,” Tommy said. “May not be the worst thing. Getting attached.” 

Joel just huffed. 

“Just mean, life’s better when you’ve got something to care about, right?” Tommy pressed on. “What’s the point of fightin’ this hard if you don’t?” 

“Care about you,” Joel shrugged. “Seems like plenty to me. Just… Keep going for family.” 

Tommy was quiet for a moment. 

“She could be family,” he said, glancing Joel’s way. 

Before Joel had a chance to object, the sound of your scream cut through the cold air. Tommy looked at Joel for barely a second before the men were running, shoving brush aside and leaping over obstacles as they went. 

“Joel! Tommy!” 

Tommy wasn’t sure where he found the energy after days on the road but he pushed himself faster at the sound of your voice. You were so afraid it sent a chill up his spine. It had to be infected, he couldn’t think of what else would inspire that kind of terror. 

He broke through the tree line before Joel and it took him a moment to realize where you were, Vince on top of you on the ground. Tommy didn’t stop to think. He was hurting you, he was a threat, he needed to pay. Tommy tackled Vince, catching him completely off guard and rolling away from you. They landed with Vince on top but he was disoriented and Tommy quickly threw him to the ground before jumping on him, forcing his knee into the other man’s chest before punching him, hard, across the face again and again. 

Vince scrambled, throwing his arms up, trying to protect his head from Tommy’s blows but it didn’t matter. He grabbed one arm and broke it, feeling the bones snap under his fingers. 

“Tommy!” Vince sobbed. “Fuck, please! I can explain!” 

“No,” Tommy shook his head, his fist raised. “Warned you, motherfucker. Shouldn’t have touched her.” 

He ripped Vince’s unbroken arm away and started punching him again and again, the sick sense of satisfaction that took hold when he solved problems this way settling over him. There was something about using his body, taking control with force, that brought him a sense of peace. He knew what was coming next. He knew it could be the right thing, that he could protect who needed protecting, because he’d set the rules. 

After what felt like no time at all, Vince was still below his fist, his face a mass of blood and displaced cartilage. He wasn’t breathing. Tommy panted, staring down at him for a moment. It seemed like he should feel bad for this, somehow. He’d lived alongside this man, survived the end of the world with him, for more than half a year. He should feel some sense of guilt or loss at killing him. But he didn’t. He only felt justified and a twisted sense of pride at the fact that he’d protected you, even if that meant killing for it. 

For a moment, he was relieved, the knot in his stomach that had been there since he’d left with Joel days earlier easing. 

Then, he heard it. 

“Tommy!” 

His blood went cold. Joel’s voice was pleading and desperate. He’d heard him like this once before, just once.

“Tommy, help me!” 

He left Vince on the ground and ran to Joel. You were in his arms, staring down at your stomach, your breaths coming in shallow, pained paints. Joel had cut your ties, at least, and your hands were braced against him, your nails digging into him. There was red blossoming over you and Tommy stopped dead in his tracks. 

“No,” he breathed. 

Joel shook his head. 

“Gotta help me,” he said. “I can’t… You gotta help me, please, Tommy. Please.” 

You made a pained sound and winced, your whole face drawing tight in pain. 

“I know,” Joel said, looking back down at you, tightening his hold on you. “I know, I know, it hurts, it’s gonna be OK, I’ve got you, it’s OK…” 

“It’s not too bad,” you said, your voice pained. “Just… I think it missed the major stuff and I think the bullet went straight through, just have to get the bleeding under control and stop infection, that’s all, I just need…” 

Your voice broke off and you panted, the agony clear on your face. 

“It’s OK,” Joel said, clutching onto you as Tommy seemed to find control of his body again. “It’s OK, just tell us what to do, we’ve got you, it’s OK…” 

“Need towels,” you winced. “Gauze. Alcohol to flush it… don’t think the water here would be good, even if we boiled it…” 

“Got it,” Tommy said, running to the cabin and finding the collection of towels in one of the cabinets, gauze from your medical supplies, the highest proof liquor he could find in the stash at the house and ran back out to you. 

“Have to get this out of the way,” you said, unbuttoning your shirt and shrugging out of it on your injured side, hissing in pain as you did. You gritted your teeth and spoke again. “Need one of the towels, put it on the wound - both sides since I think the bullet went through - and hold pressure. It needs to be a lot of pressure, have to stop the bleeding. It’s going to look like it hurts but that’s OK…” 

Joel and Tommy maneuvered the towel around your wound and clamped down and you gasped in pain, one hand flying to Tommy’s shoulder, your fingers twisting in his shirt. 

“I know, I know,” Joel sounded pained, too. “I know it hurts. It’s OK, you’re gonna be OK…” 

You just nodded, staring up at him with wide eyes as you struggled to breathe through the pain. 

Tommy tried not to think about the night more than a year ago when Joel had said the same things to his daughter as she bled out in his arms. He tried not to think about whether or not Joel could survive that happening again, especially so soon to the first person he’d shown any kind of care for since then. He tried not to think about whether or not he could survive it, either. 

You, at least, stayed conscious and knew how to walk them through patching you up. This time when Joel got up from the bloodstained ground with a body in his arms, it was still breathing. 

He carried you, delicately, into the cabin, your head on his shoulder and your eyes closed. They cleaned you up as best they could before Joel tucked you into bed, setting you on your uninjured side and pulling the blankets up around you. You flinched in your sleep and Joel brushed your hair back from your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone. 

“C’mon,” Tommy whispered, jerking his head toward the door. “Should give her space.” 

Joel nodded and followed Tommy to the kitchen. 

“Drink?” Tommy asked, going for the cupboard with the liquor. Joel just nodded. Tommy poured them each a sizable glass before sitting across from him at the table. Joel took the cup but didn’t drink it. Instead, he set it on the table and turned it in his fingers, his jaw tight. 

“You OK?” He asked eventually. 

Joel sighed, staring at the liquor for another moment before meeting his brother’s eyes. 

“I thought it was gonna be like her,” he said quietly. “She was bleeding like she was and in pain like she was and I thought…” his voice broke. “I can’t watch someone else I…” 

He shook his head. 

“Someone else you what?” Tommy asked when Joel was quiet for too long. 

“Someone else I care about die like that,” he said, not looking at him. 

Tommy nodded slowly. 

“‘Bout time you figured it out,” he said. 

Joel glared at him. 

“Told you, attachment is dangerous. Saw why tonight, if I weren’t fuckin’ attached to her then…” 

“Then you’d have let him rape her?” Tommy asked. “Kill her?”

“No,” Joel snapped and then sighed. “But.. I wouldn’t have been afraid. I… I was so afraid, Tommy. I haven’t been afraid like that since… I can’t do that again. I can’t.” 

“You think I can?” Tommy asked, brows raised. “Jesus, Joel. You think I wasn’t fuckin’ terrified tonight? Think I broke a bone in my damn hand taking it out on that fuck…” 

Joel sighed. 

“Should let her go,” he stared out the window. “See if we can’t find a way to get her to a QZ or something…” 

“Yeah, because those are so damn great,” Tommy scoffed. 

“S’not safe out here,” Joel snapped. “And if we suddenly care about saving her, that puts us at risk…” 

“Don’t you think she’s worth a little risk?” Tommy asked. “You really think you’re gonna be satisfied with just me for the rest of your life? Because, no offense brother, I’m not exactly thrilled with the idea of having just your ugly mug around for the rest of my days.”

“She doesn’t want to be here,” Joel said. “Remember that? The fact that she’s been literally tied to us? You really want someone who you’re forcing to be there?” 

“Doesn’t have to stay that way,” Tommy said. “Lot’s happened…” 

There was a creak and Tommy looked up, over Joel’s shoulder to see you emerging from the bedroom, a pained look on your face. 

“What are you doing up?” He asked, leaving his drink and heading for you. “Need to use the bathroom or…” 

You shook your head as Tommy took your hand and you leaned against him, your body warm and soft. 

“He’s right,” Joel said, getting up, too. “You need to be resting…” 

“I know,” you nodded, wincing. “I know I do, but… I… I woke up alone and I just… it was like I could feel him there and I couldn’t calm down and… Could you sleep in the bed with me? Please? I think… I think if you’re there I’ll feel safe and…” 

“Course, little rabbit,�� Tommy said gently. “Which one of us do you want?” 

His stomach clenched at that question. He wanted the answer to be him. He wouldn’t get in the way if it was Joel, of course, but he wanted to be your source of peace and safety. He wanted to be who you turned to when you needed someone. You looked up at him, your eyes wide. 

“Could it be both of you?” You asked sheepishly. “Please?” 

Tommy looked to Joel who looked baffled for a moment before he answered for the both of them. 

“Whatever you want,” he said. “C’mon, bed time.” 

The walk to the bedroom was slow and Joel and Tommy both helped you into the middle of the bed. Joel went to sleep at your back, Tommy at your front. 

“If we bump you or something and we hurt you, wake us up, OK?” Tommy said. You just nodded, curled up like a rabbit. He looked to Joel who just shrugged, the two of them climbing into bed with you. When Joel was in his place, you adjusted yourself back until you were pressed against him. Tommy lay down slowly, facing you and leaving as much space between you as he could. But you reached forward and tugged him closer, until his front was only a few inches from yours. Your smiled in the darkness. 

“Thank you,” you said softly, closing your eyes and relaxing. “This feels better.” 

“We’ve got you,” Joel said, his voice rough. “Take care of you.” 

Tommy wasn’t sure you heard him. He was pretty sure you were already asleep. 

***

Joel didn’t tie you up again. 

You were expecting him to, once you started becoming more mobile again. He didn’t mention it, didn’t even tell you to behave and not go running off. You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t care if you left or he could tell that you weren’t going to try to escape them now. 

Things were different after Vince. Joel and Tommy had gone from being the best parts of a bad situation to the people you needed to feel safe. You had to ask them every night, for the first week, if they would sleep in the bed with you. They never said no, alternating between who was at your back and your front. You just liked being between their large, firm, warm bodies, enveloped by their heat and their strength. Nothing could hurt you when you were between them, nothing. That much you knew. 

The two men took care of you while you recovered. Joel kept the fire going in the living room and would carry you to it in the morning. Tommy read to you for a change and you drifted in and out of consciousness on the couch to the soothing timbre of his voice. They helped you change your bandages and brought you water and soothed you when you woke up afraid. 

It took a few weeks before Joel said he wanted to go hunting. 

“Animals,” he clarified when you tensed. “Not people.” 

“Can I come?” You asked quietly. Tommy was at your back that night, Joel at your front. Tommy held you a little tighter.

“Don’t know if you’re up for it quite yet,” Joel replied, brushing your hair back from your forehead. 

“I’m ready,” you said quickly. “I can keep up, I…” 

“Ain’t worried about you keepin’ up,” Joel said. “Worried about you gettin’ hurt. I’ll go…” 

He must have seen at least some sign of the disappointment on your face in the dark. He sighed.

“What, little girl?” 

“I don’t want to be here alone,” you said softly. “I know Vince is dead but…” 

“I’m staying behind, too,” Tommy said. “Not going to leave you by yourself.” 

“But…” 

You went quiet. 

“But what?” Joel asked. 

“But you shouldn’t be out there on your own, either,” you said quietly. “It’s safer if Tommy goes, too, and…” 

“Not doing anything very dangerous,” Joel said. “I’ll be back before you know it. It’s OK.” 

You nodded, even though you didn’t really believe him. 

He left the next day and you spent the whole damn day worrying. Tommy tried to distract you, playing poker and asking you to read to him, but your eyes kept going back to look at the door, waiting for Joel to walk through it and prove that he was alive and well. 

When he returned just after dusk that evening, you jumped up from your chair at the dining room table and flung yourself at him, your arms going around his neck as you pressed your body against his. 

“What’s all this about?” Joel laughed a little, catching you out of the air. 

“I was worried,” you said, voice muffled by his shirt. “I’m glad you’re home.” 

He was still for a moment before he held you close. 

“Me too.” 

That night, you made Joel sleep at your front and you pressed yourself against him, your leg hitching up over his hip. His breathing stuttered but you didn’t move. Tommy kept his distance at your back before you half turned, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him against your back. 

“Need you both,” you yawned, body finally relaxing after being tense all day. “Please, need to feel you both.” 

Tommy hesitantly enveloped you, curving his legs around yours, his arm gently going around your waist. You smiled, drifting off surrounded by the men who protected you. 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise when you started waking up feeling wet. 

The first time, you damn near panicked, Joel and Tommy still asleep around you. You couldn’t remember any dreams that would have made you react that way, it didn’t seem like something that happened just before you went to sleep. But you were wet. 

It wasn’t until Tommy pressed against you in the kitchen, reaching something on a shelf over your head, that you realized what it was. 

You were turned on by them. By Joel and Tommy both. They were large, they were strong, they were handsome. Their bodies were warm and firm when they held you at night and you started wondering what they’d taste like, what they’d feel like as they slipped inside of you and put all that wetness to use. 

But more than that, they were safe. For the first time since the apocalypse had really begun, you felt secure. Yes, they might have taken you against your will but they’d taken care of you the way no one else ever had. They were safe and good to you and handsome and strong. You wanted them. 

More than wanted. Needed. Needed to feel them closer, needed them inside of you. Needed them so close that no one could take you away from them. 

One night, about two months after the incident with Vince, snow was piling high outside. Joel and Tommy had spent the day chopping wood, making sure there was enough stashed to ride out a storm. The three of you sat down to dinner, pulling one of the last of the rabbits Joel had trapped a few weeks earlier from your makeshift freezer of snow outside and roasting it over the fire, knowing you’d be stuck with jerky for a while going forward. You had a glass of whiskey with them, not enough to get you drunk but just enough to loosen you up. Enough to make you focus more on what you wanted. Enough for you to forget exactly why what you wanted was probably a bad idea. 

Joel was at your front in bed that night, your ass pressed back against Tommy as your chest was pressed against Joel. 

“Think the snow is going to be too crazy?” You asked quietly as Tommy’s thumb traced your lowest rib. 

“We’ll dig out if it is,” Joel shrugged. “We’ve got enough supplies to last us ’til spring. Ain’t too worried.” 

“Just gonna have a lot of time to kill,” Tommy said. You could hear the smile in his voice. “Might actually read one of those books of yours, little rabbit, instead of listen to you read ‘em.” 

The cabin creaked in the wind and you pressed yourself closer to Joel, your hand going back to Tommy to pull him closer, too. You nuzzled into Joel’s chest, the hairs there tickling the tip of your nose, and breathed deep. Even at the end of the world, he smelled good. Rugged, with a hint of sweat, like the wood he’d chopped and smoke from the fire he’d built. You wanted to be closer to him. You wanted to feel him. You wanted - needed - to taste him. 

So you did. 

You brushed your lips against his chest and you felt his breath hitch as you kissed him there. You let your mouth linger on his skin before you pulled back ever so slightly and licked your lips, tasting the salt of him on your own skin with a small, needy moan. 

“Little girl,” he said, voice strained. 

“Yes?” You asked softly, looking up at him. 

“Don’t think you know what you’re doin’,” he said through clenched teeth. 

“Yes I do.” 

“You’re askin’ for trouble is what you’re doin’,” he said. “So why don’t you…” 

“I know what I want,” you whispered. 

“Yeah?” Joel asked. “And what’s that?” 

“You,” you said. You felt Tommy start to pull away from your back but you grabbed him and held him to you. “Both of you.” 

Tommy tensed behind you and you kept ahold of him so he wouldn’t pull away. 

“Please,” you breathed. “If you want me…” 

“Don’t gotta be worried about that,” Tommy said, a hand slipping around your waist and curling up toward your breasts. “But… well, we talked about it and…” 

His voice trailed off. 

“And what?” You frowned, looking between the two of them. 

“We decided that it’s best of neither of us act on that,” Joel said. “Too much risk of someone gettin’ hurt out here as it is, don’t need to add jealousy to the mix…” 

“Who said anything about jealousy?” You asked. “I want both of you. I want to feel and taste and experience both of you, please. Feels like I’ve wanted it so long it almost hurts, I promise I won’t ask you to choose between me and each other, I want you both, I want you both so bad and…” 

Your voice cracked, desperation both pathetic and obvious and you were having a hard time caring.

“Who are we to deny a lady what she wants?” Tommy asked quietly. 

Joel was quiet for a moment. 

“You sure about this?” He asked. 

“Think I can handle sharing,” Tommy said. “Worth the risk if I can get just a little bit of her…” 

Your heart fluttered at that. 

“Good,” Joel said, voice low and rough. “But wasn’t quite so worried about you, brother.” 

“I’m sure,” you said, damn near panting now. “Please…” 

“Then why don’t you be a good girl,” Joel said, adjusting so he could nudge you down onto your back. “And let us have you.” 

Joel started pulling at the buttons of your shirt, opening you up slowly to him as Tommy slid down your body to your panties. He pulled them down and opened your legs to him as Joel reached over to the nightstand and flicked on a flashlight, angling it away from the bed so there was just enough light to see each other by. 

“Fuck,” he said as he pulled your shirt fully open, exposing your bare chest to him. He reached one large, callused hand forward and cupped your breast, cradling the weight of it in his palm before curling a thumb over your nipple and brushing over you, making you moan. “So fuckin’ pretty. No idea how bad I wanted to see you like this…” 

“Even better here,” Tommy said from his place between your thighs. He ran his thumb over your slit, adding pressure when he reached your clit. You sucked in a breath in shock as you squirmed a little below him. “She’s got the prettiest damn pussy I’ve ever seen.” 

“Think she tastes as good as she looks?” Joel asked. 

“Gonna find out,” Tommy said, leaning forward, his tongue following the same path as his thumb had found just a moment earlier. He gently teased your clit with the tip of his tongue before pressing it between your lower lips, slipping down until he found your tight, wet hole. He dipped his tongue inside you there and he moaned, thrusting shallowly in and out as he toyed with your clit with his thumb. “Tastes so damn good, Joel. So fuckin’ good, like sunshine and honeysuckle and the best damn candy you ever tasted…” 

“Bet she does,” Joel said, bending and putting his lips on your bared breasts. He held you gently in his hands at first before he sucked your nipple gently into his mouth. He moaned with it and you did, too, as he sucked you for a moment trailing kisses to your other breast and doing the same there. Tommy watched, almost awed for a moment, before going back to your dripping heat. You moaned when his tongue slid inside you again, your back arching. You felt Joel smile against your chest. 

“Think she likes that,” he said. “Keep doin’ it.” 

“Planning on it,” Tommy panted from between your legs before diving back into you. His tongue spread you open as his fingers worked your clit and you rocked your hips against his face, any sense of shame you had long gone. 

Joel kissed up your chest to your throat, the brush of his lips and the scratch of his beard making you shiver and gush a little onto Tommy’s tongue as he ate you. He moaned as you did and Joel kissed up your jaw toward your lips but stopped just short of kissing you. You whimpered. 

“Not yet, little girl,” he breathed, reaching to cup your breast. “Want you to kiss him first, after you fuckin’ soak him with your come. Want to taste you on your tongue when I kiss you the first time. Think you can do that for me? Think you can come all over his fucking face?” 

You nodded, not fully able to form words. Tommy increased his pace and added a finger to where his tongue was working inside you, spreading you open wider, finding the soft places inside you to pet and press. 

“Doin’ so good for me,” Joel said, sounding a little breathless and needy. “So, so good for me. Want you to give into it, baby. Want you to give in to me n’him. Give in and come, give yourself to us, you can do it, come on baby, come on…” 

He pressed his lips to your throat just as Tommy added pressure to your clit and his finger was deep inside you and you started to come, crying out with the force of it as your walls fluttered around him. One of your hands flew to Joel’s thigh, digging into him with sharp desperation, while the other went to Tommy’s curls, twisting and tangling in them as you worked yourself against his face. 

“There she is,” Joel breathed and you opened your eyes to find him watching you intently, pupils blown and face lined with want. “Good girl, comin’ so hard for us. Just let it all go, baby. Give it all to us, we want all of you, all your pleasure, just give it all to us, come on…” 

Tommy ate you through your orgasm until you went limp. Tommy sat up, breathless, looking down at your exposed body for a moment before taking his place on the other side of you from Joel. Your half dazed eyes traced over his face and saw traces of your slick on his lips. 

“Here baby,” he said, gently cupping your face and tilting your head toward his. He pressed his mouth to yours and you weren’t sure where the taste of you ended and the taste of him began as his tongue swept into your mouth. After a moment, he pulled back ever so slightly, just enough to look in your eyes for a second before pressing his lips gently to yours once more. When he pulled back again, he just watched as Joel turned your head toward his and kissed you, too. 

It was soft and delicate at first but, as soon as his tongue pressed into your mouth, he became desperate, kissing you hard and deep, moaning as he did. Even though you just came, you could feel yourself getting hot and tight again. 

He pulled away eventually, looking across you to Tommy. 

“She does taste good,” He said. 

“Told you.” 

Joel laughed once before cupping your breast again, looking you up and down. 

“We overwhelmed you yet, little girl?” He asked. “Need us to stop so we don’t break you?” 

“No,” you panted, looking between them. “And… I think I’d be OK breaking for you.” 

“Fuck,” Tommy hissed, sliding a hand down your body to the apex of your thighs to just cup your pussy. “Think she can take both of us at once? Don’t think I can wait my turn…” 

“I bet she can,” Joel said, looking down at you. “You ever taken two cocks at once?” You swallowed hard and shook your head. “Think you can be our good girl and tell us if it gets to be too much?” You nodded. “Good.” 

Joel took you by the waist and pulled you tight to his front before he rolled onto his back, taking you with him with a sharp little squeak. You could feel the thick of his cock through his sweatpants and you ground yourself down on it, moaning as you did. Tommy got out of bed for a moment, just long enough to take his sweatpants and underwear off and leaving him naked in front of you. 

Your eyes went wide at his cock. Thick and long with just the right amount of curve, he worked just the head of himself, smirking a little at your expression. 

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Take real good care of you when we make it fit. Besides, not mine you gotta worry about.” 

Your eyes got wider, looking down in shock at Joel, who laughed. 

“We’ll make sure you’re good and ready, baby,” he said, pulling you up his body just enough that you were no longer half sitting on his cock. He reached low and shoved down his sweatpants before he kicked them off the rest of the way and you tried to get a look at it. 

Joel had another idea. 

“Here,” he nudged you so you were sitting up, your bare, dripping pussy on his stomach. “Get a feel for me, baby.” 

He lifted you just enough that, when he set you down again, your core was against the root of him. You gasped at the feel of him against you, so long and thick that it made your head spin. 

“Fuck,” you panted, your hands going to his chest as you started to grind down against his length. He groaned. 

“That’s it, baby,” he said. “Such a good girl, get me all nice and slick with you. Think you can make yourself come on my cock before I’m even inside you?” 

You just nodded, working your hips harder and faster against him. Joel moaned. 

“Good fucking girl,” he said, his large hands finding your thighs, fingertips sinking into the flesh of them. “Want you to suck his cock while you do. Gotta get him all wet to go in that little asshole of yours. Think you can do that for us?” 

You just nodded and sat up from Joel a little more as Tommy crawled toward you on the bed, working his dripping length as he did. Your mouth dropped open and you took him into it, sucking and licking his head before starting down the shaft, moving slow as you looked up at him through your eyelashes, relishing the look on his face before he dropped his head back and moaned in pleasure. You were doing this to him, you were bringing this strong, powerful man to his knees with just your mouth. 

“Holy shit you’re good at that,” Tommy moaned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, gonna come down that pretty throat of yours if you’re not careful…” 

“Don’t push him too far, little girl,” Joel said, rocking his hips up into yours and making you gasp. “Want to take all of you, can’t wear him out too quick…” 

“Fuck, her mouth Joel, Jesus,” his fingers went to knot in your hair as he started fucking into your throat and you swallowed around him. “Fuck, you try not comin’ in her here…” 

“Save it,” Joel said, sounding a little close to the edge himself. “Imagine how good her ass is gonna feel…” 

“Oh fuck,” Tommy said, pulling you off his cock and panting for breath. Joel kept fucking his cock up against your pussy, the thickest part of him working your clit and making you moan, your second orgasm building. Tommy cupped your face, watching your desperation as you got close to coming from his brother’s cock. “Fuck, so damn pretty when she’s about to come. Work of fuckin’ art…” 

“Tell me about it,” Joel grunted, sounding almost pained. “Fuck, you think she’s close? Need inside her, can’t…” 

“Oh she’s close,” Tommy said as you whimpered, the ability to form words far behind you. “You like what he’s doin’ to you, little rabbit?” You nodded urgently. Tommy smiled. “Good, good. Want him to go a little faster? Just a bit?” You nodded again. 

“Fuck,” Joel panted, increasing his pace, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm. He pulled back just far enough on one stroke that his head caught on your entrance and the tiniest bit of him slipped inside you for just a second but it was enough to set you off, every ounce of tight need that had built up inside you throbbing and pulsing over Joel’s heavy cock. “Jesus Christ… fuck, gotta feel so fuckin’ good to be inside her when she does that…” 

“She’s so good for us,” Tommy said, watching you intently, his eyes locked on yours. “Doin’ so good for us. Just gotta do that one more time when we’re inside you, OK baby? Think you can do that for us?” 

You felt on the verge of tears but nodded anyway, wanting nothing more than to feel them inside of you when you came. 

“Good girl,” Tommy breathed. “Now do me a favor, get my cock nice and wet one more time for me…” 

You obeyed, taking him in your mouth to the root and letting your mouth soak him. He moaned, holding the head of himself in your throat, before pulling from you slowly and gently. 

“Bend over for us,” Tommy said, helping you adjust so you were down against Joel’s chest with your ass back in the air. He moved to be behind you, his legs over Joel’s as your thighs were around Joel’s hips. He ran a thumb from your leaking center to your ass and let out a low moan. “Fuck, every goddamn inch of you… fuckin’ gorgeous.” 

“You OK if we try to get inside you?” Joel asked, his voice low and needy.

“Yes,” you managed. “Please, fuck, need you, need you both so bad…” 

“I know you do baby,” Joel said, a comforting hand coming to the middle of your back. “Gonna start with me in your pussy then Tommy’s gonna take your ass, gonna make you feel so fuckin’ full baby…” 

Joel adjusted you ever so slightly, reaching his free hand down to lift his cock and line it up with your entrance. There was some resistance, the thickness of him almost too much to take but he pushed past it until you felt his whole head pop into your hole. 

“Oh fuck,” he groaned. “Fuck, fuck… Need just a second, baby. Gonna come too quick if we go now just… fuck…” 

You just nodded against his chest as your body adjusted to the small part of his cock that you’d taken. 

“OK baby,” he panted. “Gonna give it all to you now.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, he just thrust into you and you cried out with the almost brutal stretch of him pushing deep into you, your tight channel rippling over him. 

“Fuck,” Joel hissed, his fingers pressing into the bared skin of your back. 

“How’s she feel?” Tommy asked, sounding almost pained. 

“So goddamn tight,” Joel groaned. “Like she was fuckin’ built to take this cock, my GOD…” 

Joel’s hand slid down to your lower back and he put pressure there, holding you in place as his hips lowered so his cock was fully seated inside of you. You rocked your hips, desperate for just a little friction. 

“Fuck, so pretty,” Tommy said, his thumb going from your stretched opening up to your tight bud. “Need you to hold still for me, can’t get inside you if you move too much…” 

You nodded even though he couldn’t see it and stilled, the thick, heavy weight of Joel within you burning you from the inside out. You felt a warm drop of liquid on your ass and realized that Tommy was probably trying to lube you up with spit. His thumb worked gentle circles over your puckered ring of muscle. 

“Anyone ever been in this tight little hole?” He asked, almost reverently. 

“One guy,” you managed. “In college…” 

“You like it?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” you said, breath picking up at the thought of it. “Fuck, yeah, I did…” 

“Gonna make you love it baby,” he said. “Now just relax for me.” 

You did your best to obey but you were already stretched so tight there it was hard to imagine anything else fitting inside that half of your body. But you wanted it. Wanted to feel both of them deep within you, the three of you together. 

Tommy pressed his cock head to your hole and spit one more time before he started pushing in. You whimpered at it and Joel’s hand ran in a soothing pattern up and down your back, the tight ring of your ass holding firm. 

“C’mon, just let me in,” Tommy panted, pressing harder. “Just let me in, baby, make you feel so good when I do…” 

“Relax for us,” Joel said in your ear, so soft you doubted Tommy could hear. “This was what you wanted, right? For us to take you, make you ours? Can’t do that if you won’t let him in, little girl. Just let him in, let us have you…” 

Tommy’s cock pushed past the ring of muscle and he sank a few inches inside you with a strangled moan. 

“Holy shit,” he panted. “Fuck, never… never felt something this tight, Jesus Christ…” 

He pushed deeper, slowly, gently, and you pressed your face down into Joel’s warm, broad chest, moaning and needy. You’d never felt this full, never felt this stretched, never felt this overwhelmed. Never felt like you so totally, utterly belonged to anyone else.

“Almost inside you,” Tommy panted. “Fuck, doin’ so good for us. So so good…” 

Another minute and Tommy’s hips met the plush of your ass and he moaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he did. 

“Fuck, we’re inside you baby,” Tommy said, his head falling forward until it met the middle of your back. “So deep inside you, fuck…” 

“Taking both of us, baby,” Joel whispered, just for you. “Really ours now, gonna take such good care of you…” 

“I gotta move, Joel,” Tommy panted, sitting up again. “Fuck, I can’t… I gotta… fuck.” 

“We’re gonna fuck you now,” Joel said, loud enough that Tommy could hear him this time. “You just take us and come on our cocks like a good girl.” 

You nodded into Joel’s chest. 

Tommy started to move first, pulling back slowly before thrusting in harder and faster. When he thrust in, Joel slid out until just the head of him remained inside your channel. When he pushed back inside, Tommy pulled back again. The men set the pace, alternating in perfect rhythm so you were never empty, giving you the mind-blowing combination of almost constant friction with constant stretch. 

It didn’t take long before you started to tighten around them, their cocks working your holes in tandem, filling you and stretching you and claiming every inch of you. Joel had to push back inside with a grunt as your orgasm built, the tightness of your inner walls almost too much for him. 

“She’s gettin’ close,” Tommy panted. “Fuck, already tryin’ to milk my cock…” 

“Think we can get her there,” Joel said, breathless, thrusting somehow deeper than he’d been before, making you gasp. 

“Fuck, need to feel her come,” Tommy said, gripping your hips tighter and starting to fuck in and out of you faster. Joel followed suit, thrusting in deep and hard on his final stroke. 

“I’m… fuck,” you panted, your insides hot and coiled with pleasure so intense you could barely remember your own name. “I’m close, so close, want to come with you, please, want to come with both of you, please, please, please…” 

You kept whimpering and pleading, mind foggy, as Joel and Tommy picked up the pace, Joel’s arms wrapping tightly around you, holding you close and tight to his skin as his and Tommy’s orgasms built. 

“Gonna come,” Tommy said. “Fuck, gonna… I’m gonna…” 

“Please, please, please…” You sobbed and they both thrust deep inside at the same time, stretching you to your limit, both throbbing deep and hard, triggering your own orgasm, walls clenching onto them tight and rippling over them. 

“Did so good for us,” Joel whispered softly in your ear as your core fluttered around them, their cocks going still inside you. He held you close, one hand on your ribs, the other on the back of your head. “So fucking good for us…” 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” 

Your whole body went limp, nothing but an overwrought, dripping mess as Tommy slowly, gently, pulled himself out of you. You felt some of his come drip out after him but he scooped it with his finger and pushed it back inside, covering your tightening hole with his palm until it closed again. 

“Belongs inside you, baby,” he said softly. “Gotta keep it where it belongs…” 

He collapsed next to you and Joel and you whimpered at the loss of contact. You wanted - needed - to be touching both of them. Joel seemed to understand, rolling with you gently onto his side and nudging you back into Tommy. His arms went around you and held you as Joel pulled out of you, a trial of your come and his running between your thighs to his softening cock. He pressed close to you once he was outside your body again, his cock all warm and wet against your skin. 

“That what you needed, little girl?” Joel asked gently, tracing the outline of your face with his fingertips. You couldn’t keep your eyes open, letting them fall closed with a contented sigh and a nod. Joel’s lips brushed your forehead. “Good. Gotta take care of what’s ours.” 

A/N: Yeah so this will almost definitely be a longer series in the future but this is it for now! Sorry for the wait and for the fact that it's completely unhinged.

Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for being here! Love you!

Taglist: @pockcock

[swtnrcmnt]

୨୧ — e.l relationship headcanons

yes this is tradition for every new character i obsess over :)

just an fyi ! this will fit a more girly, coquette!reader :) any race is welcome to read ofc ! i’ll also be including some nsfw headcanons to test the waters and see if i should write more in the future ! enjoy :)

- is the sweetest cutest golden retriever boyfriend

- and is the most awkward when he first meets you

- he follows you around like a lost little puppy

- oh also for sure gives u the princess treatment. like he will never let you hold anything.

- shopping spree? he’ll hold your bags. walking back to your dorm? he’ll hold your books.

- he’d do literally anything for you because he’s HEAD OVER HEELS

- if we’re going to acknowledge the ghostface thing, i feel like he would make sure that you never get hurt physically whatsoever

- mentally? he can’t really promise that lol

- back to my sweet angel boyfriend who does no wrong !! he would never hurt a fly

- would always be taking candid photos of you

- and you absolutely hate how they look but he thinks you just look so beautiful doing an essay or cleaning the kitchen

- also he’s a canon virgin lol, so i assume he doesn’t have much experience at all with girls

- maybe a first kiss, but still super nervous about making any moves on you like first kiss or even asking you out

- SUPER ! OBLIVIOUS !

- he doubts that you’ll ever like him so before you start dating and he has this big fat crush on you he’s like ‘oh she probably doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend’

- but he’s wrong (obviously)

- once he gets more confident with you and the whole relationship thing he’s a lot more touchy than you expected

- for ex: when you first start dating he’s shaking in his boots anytime he kisses you and would probably only kiss you in private, he’d be nervous to even hold hands omg

- but you’ve been dating for a while now, he won’t hesitate to pull you in for a kiss in the middle of a subway station, and always always has his arm on your waist, or is holding your hand. touching you in some way

- he loves cuddles !! he told me personally

- after a long day, there’s absolutely nothing we would rather be doing than cuddle up with you in bed :(

- he also definitely takes photos of you while you’re fast asleep on his chest. you can’t tell me that doesn’t seem like something he would do

- he also would take his phone out and use those snapchat filters that completely morph you into something else on you without your knowledge

nsfw headcanons for my thirsty girlies

- he’s so fucking nervous the first time

- mainly because it’s his first ever time

- but like the kissing, he gets more confident with it as the relationship progresses and would gradually start to show his kinks

- and he has an obsession with going down on you i don’t make the rules !!

- idk guys he gives off sub -> dom you know what i mean?

- i think it’s mainly because he’s a virgin lol

- and as i said he gets more confident in bed the longer you’ve been dating so i feel like he would eventually end up as a dom at some point

- i also just get the vibes

- he’s so so good at aftercare and takes it very seriously

- if you want a certain snack afterwards and he doesn’t have it, he will go above and beyond to find that snack for you

he’s so cute i wanna give him a kiss on the cheek

this is also kinda all over the place but let’s ignore that !!

[doctorbitchcrxft]

The Magnificent Seven | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: recovering from a sexual assault (please heed this warning), angst, canon violence, canon gore,

Word Count: 3382

A/N: SEASON THREEEEEEEEEEEE thank you guys so much for all the support i love you so much i give each of you a little kiss on the face :)))

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Dean hadn’t called you since you left. Honestly, you didn’t expect him to. However, there was a feeling clawing at you that you wanted him to. You wanted him to beg you to come back and tell you he missed you and loved you, too. Although, seventy-eight hours after leaving the Winchesters, you were unsure that phone call would ever come.

Over the previous three days, you’d scoured every library book on demonology you could get your hands on and prodded every community college professor that could possibly know any information helpful to you in breaking Dean’s deal. However, all you came up with were crossed eyes from staring at books for too long and several aging professors looking at you like you had three heads.

To your surprise, the phone on the center console next to you rang, the light from the small screen on the front of the flip phone illuminating a portion of the dark car. Hopeful, you picked it up. 

‘Oh,’ you thought. ‘Just Sam.’

“Hello?” you said into the phone.

“(Y/N), hey, it’s good to hear your voice,” Sam replied.

“Good to hear yours, too,” you said, a little sadness in your tone. “Is— Is Dean around?”

“Nah. He’s, uh…” Sam trailed off, sighing.

“Polling the electorate?” you questioned, hoping Sam would understand your reference. 

“Yeah,” Sam laughed sadly. “I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

You sighed, ready to change the subject. “It’s okay. What’s goin’ on? Why’d you call?”

“What, I couldn’t’ve just wanted to talk to you?”

“You would’ve called before if that was the case,” you replied a little flippantly. 

“Fine, you got me,” Sam chuckled. “Was wondering if you’d found anything.”

“Besides an unreal level of frustration? No.”

“Yeah. Same here.” 

You clicked on your turning signal and sighed. “Honestly, dude? I don’t think we’re gonna find the answer in any book.”

“You’re probably right,” Sam acknowledged. “Doesn’t hurt to look, though.”

“I have looked, Sam. And there’s nothing,” you responded, getting a little snippy with him. “I’m sorry. I’m just—” you quickly apologized.

“I get it. Me, too.”

“I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam replied quietly. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You understood the warning in his tone and knew he somehow figured out your next stop would be summoning every crossroads demon you could possibly find and hunting others down for answers. “Can’t make any promises, Sammy. Love you, bye.”

You snapped the phone shut and huffed. As badly as you wanted to continue your pursuit of these sons of bitches, you knew you’d be getting nowhere on the hour and a half of sleep you’d cumulatively been getting over the past five days. 

***

The next morning, only feeling slightly refreshed from the three hours of sleep you’d gotten, you headed out into the early morning sun to find yourself a demon. 

The previous evening, you’d found a bizarre story in the newspaper about a man who’d died under mysterious circumstances after picking up a hooker on the day after those demons were released from Hell in your fight with the yellow-eyed demon. There had also been a cicada swarm around the motel the man had died in; a traditional demonic omen.

The coroner’s report indicated the man had been tied to the bed and found without his genitals, blood soaking every inch of the room. They concluded the man had bled to death. What made the case more disturbing and interesting was the fact that there was a deep bruise around his neck in the shape of two small, delicate hands. 

Curious, you headed to Lincoln, Nebraska to interview the wife of the man who’d passed.

“Hi, I’m with the FBI—” you flashed your fake badge at the woman as you spoke— “and I just have a few questions for you regarding your husband’s death?”

“I don’t understand,” she said, beginning to tear up. “I already answered these questions for the police.”

“Yes, ma’am, I just have to do a follow-up of my own. A cross-examination of sorts.”

She nodded and stepped back from the door, allowing you into her home. She gestured for you to sit on the couch across from the chair she settled into. 

“So, what would you like to know?” she asked. 

“What was your husband like?”

She laughed humorlessly. “Why is that important? I mean, I’m not even sure I really knew him. Married to that cheating bastard for fifteen years, and he does this to me.”

“What do you mean by ‘you’re not sure you knew him’?” you pressed.

“I mean,” she sniffed, “I just never would’ve thought he’d cheat on me. With a whore, no less.”

You cringed at the implication of sex workers being “whores” but kept your mouth shut anyway. 

“I mean, in all the time we were together, I was the only girl he ever looked at,” she explained. “He never drank, never went out— hell, he felt guilty about watching porn! I just… I can’t understand why he’d do this to me.” Her sobs wracked her body, and she put her face in her hands. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Grishop. I just have one more question for you.”

She looked back up at you expectantly, still hiccuping from her cries.

“Did he have any enemies? Anyone who may possibly want to hurt him?”

She shook her head. “No. Before… all this… he really was the nicest man I ever knew.”

***

Following leaving the woman’s house, you decided to head out to lunch to gather your thoughts. In the midst of writing them all down in your journal and munching on a fry, a story on the news caught your attention. 

“Second Victim of Possible Serial Killer Found,” read the headline at the bottom of the screen.

“Walter Morrisson, age forty-nine, was found dead in a Super 8 motel just off I-6 around eleven A.M. this morning. Authorities were called to the scene when the housekeeper found the body after assuming the man had already checked out."

‘Oh, fuck,’ you thought. You tuned the rest of the broadcast out as your mind raced; whatever this thing was, it was just getting started.

You left a twenty dollar bill on the table to cover your meal and tip and quickly left the diner. You sped down to the Super 8 to begin investigating. 

Upon entering the lobby, you noticed a scraggly young man sitting behind the desk. The room was completely empty aside from him.

“Hi,” you grinned. “My name’s Christine McVie; I’m with the FBI.” You flashed your badge. “You mind letting me have a look at your security tapes?”

He nodded nervously, eyes flickering from your chest and back up to your face. He allowed you behind the desk to examine the security tapes from the previous night, and you clicked over to the camera just outside of the victim’s motel room. A gorgeous blonde woman escorted the man into the room, and she looked at the camera for just a split second. Had you not been paying close attention, you would’ve missed it completely: her eyes were black.

Immediately, you had the man working the front desk make you a copy of the tape and brought it back to your motel room. You then uploaded it to your laptop and began scanning FBI and police databases you’d hacked into to find the woman’s identity. After about thirty minutes, you found a match.

“Jennifer Lane, 28, Missing from Miami, Florida,” the information on your screen read. 

‘Holy shit,’ you thought. ‘She went missing the same night I killed Yellow Eyes.’ Looking at the picture of Jennifer linked to the article you found confirmed the fact that this was your mystery demon. You felt awful for that poor girl trapped underneath and had no doubt she was going through a world of pain; a slave to her own mind.

“Housekeeping,” a sultry voice suddenly called from outside your door.

Unsettled, you drew your gun and pressed it to the door and looked through the peephole. You were met with the smiling face of the girl you had just been reading about, and the door abruptly slammed open and threw you back into your room. Two men with black eyes came into the room as well and grabbed under each of your arms before you even had a second to adjust. 

You fought them as best you could which quickly proved futile. 

“Don’t worry, angel,” the beautiful blonde cooed, “we’re not gonna hurt you.” She grinned wickedly and pulled your bottom lip down with her thumb. “Yet.”

The men holding you laughed as you continued to struggle, frantically flailing your limbs to shake them off. 

“What’s the rush?” the demon asked you, roughly grabbing the sides of your face. “Y’know, you give a girl all kinds of nasty ideas.” Her lips ghosted over yours, and you suddenly found yourself unable to resist leaning forward slightly to kiss her. She kissed you deeply and furiously, causing you to stop fighting the two demons holding either side of you. You could feel them pulling your arms behind your back and tying them together, as well as your legs, but you could do nothing to fight off the woman before you. 

When you’d been bound, the demons dragged you out to a car and threw you in the trunk of it. Trying not to panic, you tried to keep track of how long they were driving for and how many rights and lefts they’d been taking. However, after the second hour of driving, it was all becoming a bit much to keep track of. 

Suddenly, the car came to a stop. You tried to prepare for whatever was ahead of you mentally and cried out when a demon roughly grabbed your hair. He hauled you out of the trunk and unceremoniously tossed you over his shoulder. You kicked and fought as best as you could, screaming, “Let me go!” You kicked the man’s stomach with all your might. “Let me go, you son of a bitch!”

“(Y/N)!” you heard an all-too familiar voice yell. Your stomach dropped at the sound of Dean’s voice, unwilling to face him after your confession and having not spoken for a week. 

“Let go of me, you fucking asshole!” You wriggled even harder now and were suddenly aware that the man carrying you stopped moving. He roughly tore you off his shoulder and stood you on your shaky legs in front of the steps up to a house. You came face to face with Dean being held back from crossing the line of salt blocking the doorway by Bobby and Sam. 

Afraid your voice would fail if you spoke, you said nothing but held Dean’s gaze.

“We come with a peace offering,” the gorgeous blonde who’d kidnapped you purred, dragging her nail harshly down your jawline and breaking the skin along it. You hissed in pain and could see Dean fight against Bobby out of the corner of your eye. “You give him back to us, and we’ll give her to you.”

“Nice try,” Sam replied. “How do we even know that’s (Y/N)? How do we know she’s not possessed?”

“You don’t." The woman gripped your chin. “But trust me, you don’t wanna see what happens if you leave me with her for much longer.”

And then, all hell broke loose. Someone— you were pretty sure you knew who— charged the demons holding you hostage and you heard Bobby yell, “Salt’s broken!” as the demon holding you up dropped you to the floor. About ten demons ran past you into the house, and you were left trying to get out of the binds you were held in. You were growing more and more frustrated by the second until someone came up from behind you.

“Need a little help?” a gorgeous blonde asked, smirking down at you. 

“Who the hell are you?” you asked. “Get away from me!”

“Baby, if I wanted to kill you, I would’ve already.” The woman pushed you upright into a sitting position and cut through the ropes binding your hands. 

Confused and startled, you watched the woman walk up to the house. “You’re welcome,” she remarked over her shoulder. 

“Thank you,” you replied, still confused. You shook your head to snap yourself alert and stood. You were completely unsure of what to do now; you desperately wanted to help your friends, but you were scared of facing Dean and had no weapons. Alone outside of a house you didn’t recognize deep in the woods, you decided to hotwire the car the demons brought you there in. 

By some miracle, you managed to find the interstate and, eventually, your motel. When you’d showered, changed, and dressed the deep bruises and brush burns on your wrists from the rope the demons had used on you, you wrapped your arms around your stomach and laid on your side in bed.

You didn’t get much sleep that night, though; you were too busy stifling tears while your mind ran wild with possible scenarios that could’ve happened after you abandoned the boys. You felt horribly guilty already.

Your guilt was made even worse when Bobby called you around five in the morning.

“What the hell was that?” he scolded through the phone.

You grimaced. “Bobby—”

“No, (Y/N). You don’t abandon family like that,” he raged.

“I didn’t have any weapons! And since when do I have a family?!”

“Since the day I found you in the woods holding your guts in your goddamn hands!” he roared, and your guilt immediately sank deeper. 

“Bobby, I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, kid. It’s Sam and Dean I’d worry about,” he replied, voice softening slightly— or, as much as Bobby’s voice could, anyway.

“What? Why?”

“You left again. Without saying goodbye. Or making sure that they were okay. Dean’s pissed; Sam’s just hurt.”

‘Ouch,’ you thought. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t wanna be in the way, and I didn’t have any weapons, and when I saw that girl going to help you, I figured it was better if I just left—”

“So you saw her, too?” Bobby questioned.

“Of course, I saw her. Why wouldn’t I have seen her?” you replied.

“ ‘Cause Sam said she disappeared. And the knife she had killed three demons,” Bobby explained.

“What?! What the hell kind of knife can kill demons?” you exclaimed.

“Ask me yesterday, and I would’ve said there’s no such thing,” he said. “I thought Sam mighta been losin’ his mind, but since you saw her, too...” Bobby trailed off. “Look, I think you should give ‘em a call. Just let ‘em know you’re all right. And apologize.” The last part of Bobby’s statement sounded more like an order.

“I’ll call Sam,” you replied after a moment.

“No, (Y/N), Dean, too. You two need to sort out whatever the hell’s wrong with you,” Bobby asserted. 

You went quiet for a moment. 

“And call me when you get wherever you’re goin’,” he finished, “so I know you’re okay.”

The line cut out, and you smiled sadly. You felt absolutely horrible for leaving the way that you did, and you knew the right thing to do would be to call Sam and Dean; separately. You knew you had to face up to Dean at some point, but it just didn’t seem like the right time. But, Christ, did you miss him. You wanted him to apologize for not calling, you wanted to apologize for leaving— there were so many things you’d say to him. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up the phone. 

You got up from your bed and crossed in front of the blackened television, jumping at the sight of your reflection. It was your guard uniform once more, scrapes up the left side of your arm and face, hair a complete mess, and buttons on your shirt buttoned haphazardly. You tried to steady yourself and take a breath. 

You hated trying to deal with this alone. Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore. You felt you couldn’t control the world around you like you used to feel before the prison case. It felt like things would never be okay, and you were never going to feel at home in yourself again. You didn’t like feeling helpless or like you needed anyone, but you truly needed your friends. Your pride fought your rational mind valiantly, telling you that you shouldn’t call because you can handle this alone. You shouldn’t call because you’ve never needed anyone before; why would you now? And yet, there was another part of you saying that you’ve always needed someone, this was just the first time you actually had someone. 

***

The day after leaving Lincoln, Nebraska, you began driving aimlessly again. You almost cried when you turned on the engine and rock music didn’t immediately start blaring from the speakers. The seats of the car felt uncomfortable and made you miss the polished leather of the Impala’s. You loved driving, but it didn’t feel right without Dean and Sam in the front seat ahead of you. 

Sam would often joke that he and his brother were your babysitters due to your designated seating positions in the car, and Dean would often say he wished he had “that sliding window thing—” “partition,” “thank you, Sam,” so he didn’t have to hear you chirping from the backseat. 

 None of the radio stations could rival the comforting background noise that was Dean’s cassette tape collection. You felt cramped without your seat to spread out across. The thing that made you call Sam, though, was the moment you slammed on the brakes and the book Sam read to you about Egypt while you had your concussion flew out of your duffel bag on the seat next to you. Tears swam in your eyes at the sight, and you finally gave in. 

“What, (Y/N)?” Sam annoyedly answered the phone. 

‘Jesus. Harsh,’ you thought. “I, uh. I just wanted to call and say that I’m sorry,” you began. “For leaving. Both times. And… just wanted to tell you that I hope you’re okay.”

You could practically hear the aggravation leaving Sam’s body as you spoke. One of your favorite things about your friend was how forgiving of a person he was. 

“I appreciate that,” Sam replied. He paused for a minute. “Why’d you do it, man?”

“I didn’t have any weapons. I saw the blonde chick go in to help you after she cut me loose, so I figured, I’d be doing more harm than good by staying—”

“No. The first time,” Sam cut you off.

“Dean didn’t tell you?” you asked, genuinely surprised. “I thought you knew this whole time.”

“(Y/N), since when does Dean tell me anything. I mean, it literally took me nearly beating it out of him for him to tell me that if the deal’s broken, I die—”

“What?!” you exclaimed, furious. “Since when? Why the fuck would he make that deal?!” 

“I said the same thing,” Sam replied calmly. 

“He’s so fucking selfish!”

“I completely agree.”

“He doesn’t get to be mad at me for leaving when I literally told him I love him, and he’s gonna fucking leave me in a year because of some stupid demon deal!” you continued to yell, not realizing what you’d admitted to Sam.

He was taken aback. “Whoa, you what?” 

You suddenly processed what you’d said. “Yeah. I did.”

“Jesus,” Sam sighed. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N/N).”

“It’s fine,” you replied, suddenly feeling like you were too vulnerable. “I’m just pissed.”

The younger brother paused for a moment. “Will you at least talk to him? Try to work things out?”

“Not a chance in hell,” you scoffed. “I don’t want things to work out. I don’t wanna watch him die in a year, Sammy.” Your voice quivered.

He paused again. “I get it. I wouldn’t want to either if I were you.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Me, too,” he replied. “Will you at least call every once in a while?”

Your chest ached at the realization that you may not be hunting with the brothers again for quite some time. “Absolutely.”

You could’ve sworn you heard him sniffle on the other end of the line. “Bye, (Y/N).”

“Till next time, Sammy.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[hedgiwithapen]

DHD: ALRIGHT, TIME TO DELIVER ON THAT "ELLIOT WAS BRIEFLY PART OF THE STARGATE PROGRAM" WORD OF GOD CANON!

Hardison would have been impressed if he’d had room for that particular emotion, which he often did. As it was, he had room for the ever conflicting “we’re gonna die” fear and “Eliot’s gonna save us” reassurance, the latter  of which normally won, which left room for being impressed. Currently, though, any space for that was filled with pain, which he hadn’t even been aware was an emotion.  The guy holding Parker with inhuman grip strength had some kind of hand-mounted… light… ray gun… thing, and it was both cool as hell and hurt like it, too, which outweighed the coolness factor. Hardison tasted blood, rolling up to one knee with absolutely all of his bones protesting. “I told you,” he panted. “We don’t know--” “Then you will die,” the voice that tore from their captor’s throat was all wrong, like it’d been run through a pitch adjuster set to ‘scary-ass-monster-man.’ “Nah,” Eliot swung around the corner, one hand braced on the door frame. The other held some kind of snake-themed horror movie prop, which would not have been reassuring in the hands of anyone but their boyfriend. Well, until it fired. The guy dropped Parker, writhing on the ground the way Hardison had been moments ago. Eliot pressed whatever trigger again, and the blue-purple lightning crawling over the guy intensified, even as he stopped moving.  A third shot and…

“Wow, you vaporized that guy.” Parker said, rubbing her neck where the man had held her. “Cool.” “Are you ok?” Eliot asked them both, his intensity ratcheting higher, Hardison noticed. “Aside from that guy trying to kill us, yeah,” Hardison said, looking pointedly at the place the body had been. “Uh. Are you? Ok? Because, I mean I know, we don’t pry or nothing but I thought, you know, you had a pretty solid Batman thing going on and uh…” “Trust me,” Eliot said gruffly. “That was mercy.” “Ok, ok, cool, uh, wanna run that back and maybe fill us in a little bit on that… ray gun thing you got there?” “It’s a Zat gun,” Eliot said. “Not a ray gun.” he ran a hand over his sweaty face. “ shit. This isn’t good.” “Move now, talk later?” Parker pointed out. “I mean. No body but still? Unless you’ve both completely forgotten how to be criminals?” “Yeah, we need to get to the Cheyenne Mountains,” Eliot said, looking at Hardison. “I’ll conjure plane tickets as soon as you tell me the hell is going on.” “Remember that conspiracy board?” “From the Hunter job?” Hardison asked. “Yeah. good prop. How much am I gonna not like asking why?” “A lot,” Eliot said. “So this guy tried to kill us and you got a …Zap gun--” “Zat. With a T.” “S’what I said, so you got one of those because of… one of those things? Which one? Moon landing?” “Nah, that was real.” “It better not be that racist secret hyperborea beyond the ice caps bullshit.” “Nah,” Eliot said again. “It’s the Pyramids.” “Oh, really,” Hardison said. “ had you not just saved my life I would be scolding you, like it is the twenty-first century man, the Egyptians were really good at--” “They sure were. That’s why the Aliens took them.” Eliot interrupted. “Hardison, how much have you learned about the SGC?” “The boring Air Force branch that doesn’t do anything except waste taxpayer money?” “Try the Air Force branch that’s the only reason this planet didn’t get blown up in ‘98. And ‘99. And--” “Oooh,” Parker shook out her arms. “What are we stealing?” “Nothing! Yet. “ Eliot amended his statement swiftly. “Look, if there was a goa’uld here, that’s a really really bad sign.” “Oh, it’ll be like DC again,” Parker nodded. “It’ll be a whole lot worse.” “That guy was an alien?” Hardison asked. “Yeah. It’s a very distinctive vocal pattern, ok? Tickets.” “Calm down, I got them. Got us a car, too. We need fake IDs or you got this?” “They know me,” Eliot confirmed. “Or at least, they better.” He glanced up, and Hardison peered at the cloudless sky with him, half expecting to see it full of spaceships and fire.  The perfect blue seemed too good to be true.