#my fics: cowritten

[turtleplushi]

Surprise it's crossover time :D

Me and @galapathy just started a fic together! The first chapter is already up on ao3 if you'd like to read it

Just a warning though, later chapters might have body horror and major character death (it is Gala after all) so be wary

[rynne]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Characters: Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Desk Sex, Inappropriate Use of Gusu Lan Forehead Ribbon (Modao Zushi), Light Bondage, Dirty Talk, Teasing, Anal Sex, Top Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Bottom Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Biting, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji Has a Biting Kink, Anal Fingering, wei wuxian's debatably self-lubing asshole Series: Part 4 of The Different Paths We Tread Summary:

Days before their wedding, Wei Wuxian has been hearing stories of his betrothed's childhood. Lan Wangji proves there's one tendency he hasn't outgrown.

[leomonae]

JJJSchmidt, leomona

Summary:

Gods, Cazador could at least give him something — well, what was he thinking. Cazador didn’t care nearly enough for that. He would never allow Astarion any relief, when he had the opportunity to further his torment. If he had been negotiating this contract, he would have at least offered something in the way of restraint for how Iedhelaran could treat him — if only to give it up, in order to… Astarion didn’t know. Be loaned out for less time? Be able to acquire more victims? Something. But what he would do didn’t matter. Astarion knew very well that he would always be the possession to be bartered, not the one doing the bartering.

At the height of the Bhaalspawn Crisis, Cazador Szarr makes a deal. Astarion is the price.

Or, the Astarion gets bargained off to an archfey but it's not a Soulmate AU

Chapter 2 of my collab with @ollysoxisfree featuring her characters from Amarthan (which is kinda like this, except it is a soulmate AU, and also is very very very good) is up! Remember to look after yourself, and mind the tags; this is the point from which they'll be really kicking in.

[tonguetiedraven]

the tea or soup for a sore throat!

I wrote this one with the fantastically talented at @marble-wolf who has so kindly agreed to help me with my massive backlog of these xD

It's BonRin, hope that's okay ^^

Avoiding Trage-tea (and Stud-tea!)

Rating: T Pairing: Bon/Rin

Ryuuji loathed getting sick. Not that he supposed anyone actually enjoyed it. It was simply that he had too many things to be doing to take the time to rest, and there was really no other way to heal. 

(Everything he got also always seemed to lead to a migraine, and he loathed those so damn much and they completely immobilized him and there was nothing he could to do get through them more quickly.)��

Thanks to the rot that had plagued his temple and the circumstances around his own birth, he also frequently struggled with lingering coughs and sinuses that were almost as fucked up as his brain.

He wasn’t certain what was causing today’s problem(s). His throat felt like he’d swallowed acid, and he couldn’t quite believe it was just his sinuses draining. He wasn’t running a fever, and there weren’t any other real symptoms outside of some pressure in his head (hardly new) and a few muscle aches. He wore a mask through his classes anyway and avoided talking as much as he could, guzzling water like it could save his angry throat, and tried to just get through the day.

Until he was leaving his evening bazooka class and realized he’d promised Rin he’d tutor him on English. 

The sensible thing to do when it felt like you’d clawed your throat and swallowed salt to make it all worse would probably be to simply cancel the talking heavy plans. Just breathing and swallowing a small amount was currently agony, so tutoring Rin promised to be hell. 

But…

But Ryuuji had been looking forward to it all week. He’d had to work for what felt like forever to get Rin comfortable with the idea of being tutored in English. Something about Ryuuji tutoring him seemed to make Rin uncomfortable and Ryuuji didn’t know if it was just that Rin didn’t want to look stupid (which seemed kind of strange when they all knew Rin regularly got zeroes which meant he couldn’t even sign his name correctly in English) or if it was just the idea of Ryuuji teaching him that had him worried (Ryuuji wasn’t unfair but he did expect effort.)

Whatever it was, Ryuuji had gotten Rin to agree and they’d had a few lessons, and Ryuuji didn’t want to lose their headway.

And sure, he didn’t want to lose the alone time with Rin either. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that he was crushing on the boy. Though, he was pretty sure Rin hadn’t realized it yet. (He really hoped that hadn’t been the reason for the hesitancy in accepting Ryuuji’s tutoring help. He was professional and wouldn’t do anything to risk their relationship. Plus, he didn’t think Rin would be like that at all…

But he still worried about it a little.)

Dying a little and trying to swallow some more of his too-cold water, Ryuuji headed towards the twins’ probably haunted dorm and trudged up the steps, letting himself just feel the miserable exhaustion for a moment longer before forcing a smile and knocking at the door. 

He’d just make today a worksheet day and try to avoid saying anything. Just a few hums of agreement. (And ugh, even that sounded like misery.)

Rin perked up when he heard the knock and gave himself one last moment to check that his hair wasn't too messy and that he looked decent (not that it mattered to Ryuuji. His friend had seen him in worse states. Ryuuji wouldn't care if his clothes were wrinkled or if his hair wasn't lying correctly) before hurrying for the door from where he had holed up in the bathroom. He tried to not be too quick. He didn't want to appear overly eager because then Ryuuji would think he was excited to learn. 

Rin wasn't excited to learn (learning was incredibly difficult but Ryuuji was endlessly patient with him now). He was excited to see Ryuuji. But Rin couldn't share that either. Because if Ryuuji caught on that Rin liked him… Rin didn't know what would happen. 

Rin adjusted himself one last time before opening the door with his typical wide grin and wagging tail. 

"Hey!" Rin greeted before he abruptly cut himself off to stare at the Aria. 

He smelled off and was a bit pale. But Ryuuji was still grinning even if it didn't completely light up his eyes like it typically did. (In an entirely distracting way that would eventually frustrate Ryuuji because Rin wouldn't be listening to what he said.)  

Ryuuji waved back, and after a moment of mildly awkward silence got out a slightly hoarse “Hi, Rin.” 

(The halfling was looking unfairly cute today with his worn jacket, dark shirt, tussled hair, and attractive eyes. The wagging tail just made him look all the happier, and it was unfair that Ryuuji could be in so much pain and still be falling all the more for Rin.) 

Rin stepped aside to let Ryuuji in, eyes narrowing. He was no stranger to human alignments since he grew up with Yukio who was incredibly prone to getting anything and everything. It was rare that his little brother didn't have at least a minor cold when they were very young. 

"Are you sick?" Rin asked as Ryuuji stepped inside.  

Ryuuji’s eyes went a bit wide as his head turned towards Rin. “What?” He croaked, trying not to wince at the pain in his throat. “I—no.” 

Probably not. Hopefully not. It wasn’t a lie. (It wasn’t.) 

Oh so Ryuuji was going to try that. (Rin would have audibly scoffed if Ryuuji had gone with Yukio's go to of, "I'm fine.") 

Rin put his hands on his hips and gave Ryuuji his best look of disapproval. "Okay, so you can help me read this cool book that's in English? Yukio says I'd like it." 

That wasn't a lie. Yukio loved to pass him random books and tell him to read.  

“Sure,” Ryuuji gruffed, marveling a little at just how much his voice sounded like sandpaper. He’d be able to kill any demon with his voice just from sounding awful. “Just show me the words.” He walked further in the building, shivering a little and feeling worse as he swallowed. 

“I’m not sick.” He said again. It didn’t sound any more believable than it had the first time. 

"Uhhuh." Rin acknowledged the attempt and moved to go upstairs. 

Rin really liked Ryuuji and part of that came from his endearing hardheaded stubbornness. His ability to stubborn his way through things was impressive. 

"It's a bigger book." Rin said and fell into a long description of what Yukio had said the book was about. (If Yukio exaggerated it to get Rin to actually read it, Rin would kill him.) 

Rin led the way up to the room, listening to Ryuuji breathe and tried to not let his worry show.  

Ryuuji was starting to shiver, and he wasn’t certain he could put it off as just the dorm. Still, he was ignoring that as well because he really could not afford to get sick. He just couldn’t. 

Rin seemed content to ramble about the book, and Ryuuji was more than content to let him. He had a feeling his throat was going to need the rest, and it really was getting worse as the day stretched on. It was going to be a miserable night.

Another drink of his water did nothing to help, and now they were at Rin’s room and Ryuuji had to figure out how to get words out of his uncooperative throat. 

Setting his bag on the desk and taking his time to riffle through the contents until he found the worksheet he’d designed for Rin. He held it up so Rin could see (hoping the little doodles of the questions helped him focus a bit more since Japanese words were almost as hard for Rin as English words) offering him a smile before setting it down and pulling out one of the two chairs to sit down in. 

He was already tired, and he really could not get sick.

Rin groaned at the sight of the paper and chose to ignore it, instead he was snatching up the book (the biggest one Yukio had handed him) and held it out. 

"This one!" He cheered with a happy wiggle of his tail. (He would follow Ryuuji's lead until Ryuuji admitted to what he felt. Even if Rin gave in and tried to pull it out directly, he had a feeling Ryuuji would get huffy and leave.)  

Ryuuji took the book in his hand and opened to the first page. The words weren’t too complex, and with some effort and a dictionary, Rin could probably figure it out.

But it was going to be hellish for Ryuuji to speak it. He always felt like he had to use a higher register for English, and the words were just… more complicated to form and it was going to hurt.

“In a hole in the ground,” Ryuuji started, and knew there was no way he could continue through this entire thing. “There lived a hobbit. Not a dirty, nasty, wet hole—” Ryuuji cut off with a harsh cough that he covered with his hand. It turned into a pained gag and him gasping for breath and struggling with getting the top off his water. 

He gulped as much as he could, feeling tears in his eyes from the force of his hacks and trying to blink them away as he braced himself for the pain of swallowing.

Rin took the book back, tossing it onto the table and turned his full attention on Ryuuji. He wasn't sure what to do to help besides wait it out then he could help. 

"Are you ready to quit being stubborn and admit you need to rest?" Rin asked gently. He hadn't wanted that amount of struggling. Maybe just a croaked sentence or two and he would have stopped Ryuuji so now he felt guilty for causing the coughing fit.  

Swallowing sucked every bit as much as Ryuuji had anticipated. His throat had to actively be on fire, and he wasn’t even entirely sure what Rin had just asked him. His ears were ringing, and this was all just grand.

He managed a ragged breath, and then another slightly less ragged one.

“Sorry,” Ryuuji choked. “It’s… I don’t know.” He spoke at a whisper, and it still hurt but it wasn’t agony. “I wasn’t running a fever, but I shouldn’t have come over.”

He pulled a mask from his pocket as he spoke, hoping it wasn’t too late, and covered his face.

"Hey, none of that. It's not a big deal!" Rin said with what he hoped was a comforting smile. "Besides, it's better to be sick here than anywhere else in this Academy!" 

Rin's temperature was naturally high but he still reached to set his wrist against Ryuuji's head like he had always seen Shirou do for Yukio. (The thought made his heart twist with longing.) Ryuuji was definitely warmer than Rin was sure humans were supposed to be but Rin couldn't remember where Yukio kept the basic medical supplies. (Yukio made certain Rin knew where the big stuff was but little things like thermometers just didn't come up.) 

"Right. Well. You're not leaving until Yukio gets back to check you over." Rin told him. "Come on, you can lay down on my… bed." (Now Rin was blushing and honestly, Ryuuji was sick and shouldn't have to deal with Rin's Rin-ness on top of everything else.)  

Ryuuji’s face went bright red at Rin’s hand against his head, and he could only hope Rin thought it was that he was sick. 

The lay down on my bed had Ryuuji hacking again. 

“That—that’s not— I can just go home. I don’t need to put you out—and you had a test coming up we were supposed to study for?” And agh. All his talking was hardly a whisper and it still hurt, and even his ears were red now. He was going to combust before he could get to the bed at this point.

(But the part of him that wasn’t flailing from Rin being so close and touching his face in that gentle way wasn’t at all surprised by the turn of things. Of course Rin saw he was sick and didn’t let it slide. That care for his friends was part of why Ryuuji had fallen for Rin. Rin didn’t let people hurt or suffer when he was around. He did whatever he could to make it better, even if it was something like offering his own bed.)

"I won't get sick." Rin said. He had yet to get sick from anything that was just typical colds. Now, if it was a demonic disease or bacterias, then he could. But he would risk it. 

Rin took a deep breath to steady himself and reached to grab Ryuuji's hands and tugged. 

"Come on, princess. You need to lay down. And I doubt you can make it across campus in your condition… so," Rin grinned mischievously, "I can carry you to your dorm. Or you can stay here!"  

Ryuuji discovered he could blush harder. He spluttered behind the mask and hugged the book to his chest. 

Rin carrying him across campus was entirely ridiculous, but that didn’t stop him from swallowing thickly (and painfully) at the thought of how easily Rin could do it. (Rin’s strength was something he’d found incredibly attractive from the beginning.)

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll sit here until Yukio gets back.” 

(And Rin was holding his hands now, and he could only hope they weren’t clammy because Rin’s hands were warm and entirely nice to hold. Nicer than Ryuuji had ever imagined in the few times he’d let himself really imagine.) 

Another cough had him drinking more water and once again wincing as the icy water did nothing to help. 

Stubborn. So stubborn. 

"Lay down." Rin insisted, with a beckon to his bed. It was all rumpled and unmade with the blankets spilling to the floor but he thought his bed was comfortable. "I'm gonna go grab something. You better be in my bed when I get back." (Oh that came out awful.) 

Rin whipped around and ran from the room with a hot blush on his cheeks. He was going to get some water boiling and then hunt down their medicines. He'd call Yukio to ask if he had to but he didn't want to tip Yukio off that anything was amiss. Rin could take care of Ryuuji better than Ryuuji sitting in an infirmary or alone in his dorm room. 

He still hadn't recovered from his incredibly embarrassing words by the time he had set up water to boil and browsed the contents of the cabinets and refrigerator. Ukobach gave him suggestions and he chatted with the stove demon as he got his help in preparing soup for Ryuuji. 

Rin set to cooking the soup and preparing the tea as quickly as he could, glancing at the clock and hoping he wasn't taking too long.  

Ryuuji watched Rin flee the room with his eyes huge and his mouth open. You better be in my bed. 

Ugh. Ryuuji was going to die blushing at this rate. Rin couldn’t have realized how that sounded, could he?

But now Ryuuji was imagining Rin saying that in a different context, and he had to sit down (on Rin’s bed!) so he could get a breath. 

He was making rather a mess of this study session. At least the mask hid some of his flustered state, but Rin was going to notice soon (he might not be the most observant, but Rin wasn’t stupid) and there would be questions (because Rin always asked questions) and Ryuuji wasn’t sure how he could answer or explain. He’d have told any of the others that he wasn’t feeling well. He’d have told them they’d do the study session later or that they could do it, but it’d have to be with writing or something less painful than talking. But Rin…

But Rin was someone Ryuuji didn’t want to reschedule with Rin. He wanted to spend the time with Rin when he could.

He leaned back on the messy bed, a bit surprised how the disheveled blankets and covers and… sweaters? All seemed to make a nice area to lay. There were soft and warm things everywhere, and he found himself settling back into as he pulled the book closer and got a pencil and notebook out as well to do some work while he waited.

Downstairs, Rin had successfully found their supply of cold and flu medicines and even the thermometer but he didn't know what Ryuuji was able to take so he stuffed all of it into a bag that he had hooked on his arm. Then he set the cup of steaming green tea on the tray next to the bowl of also steaming miso soup. He wiped a splash of the soup off his hand onto his apron, and beamed at the tray. 

He left Kuro and Ukobach with their own bowls and hurried up the stairs as steadily as he could. It was slower than he'd like but he was still able to balance incredibly well with his tail out. 

But he slowed as he remembered his parting words. 

If Ryuuji mentioned it, Rin would turn to ash and float away. 

Rin forced himself to continue on and peeked into his room, his eyes softening at the sight of Ryuuji on his bed. (That sent a surge of ridiculous excitement running through him.) 

"Breakfast in bed for princess!" Rin whispered to try and not startle him.  

“Not a princess,” Ryuuji rasped, glaring even as the blush returned. He hadn’t expected Rin to come back with so much, and he was torn between insisting that it was all too much and he was fine, and basking in the attention from his crush.

But he could also smell tea and it promised to be soothing to his miserable throat. 

So he shifted up a little and tried to soften his expression. “Tea?”

"Green tea!" Rin cheered, moving to sit at the edge of his bed. "You don't need that mask, seriously. Unless you've been playing in Light's weird stuff again." 

"And miso soup!" Rin continued, tucking his legs up under himself and scooting closer. "You also got a bunch of medicine to pick through." 

Rin adjusted to dump the bag next to Ryuuji's leg. "And if none of that will work, I can go grab something else! I got some money, so I can buy something too. Or—" 

Rin realized he was rambling and cut himself off with a little laugh.  

“I’m sure this is fine, I’m… It’s mostly just my throat.” Ryuuji said as he reached for the pain killers. They’d be the safest to start with and might help the slight aches he was feeling. “Don’t think it’s Lightning,” he added and took the mask off. 

(Had Rin been rambling or was it just him? He was blushing a little too, but Ryuuji might be imagining that. Maybe he was sick.)

He popped the pills in his mouth and swallowed it down with the water before setting that aside and reaching for the tea. He cupped the warm mug in his hands and curled his entire body around it, breathing in the steam and relaxing a little at the scent of his favorite drink. (The miso smelled divine as well, and really…)

“Thank you. Sorry you had to go to all this trouble, but it smells fantastic.”

"Had to?" Rin shook his head. "But I wanted to. I would have brought you some soup even if you didn't come over!" 

His tail was wagging as Ryuuji visibly relaxed and the tension in his face lessened. Rin was relieved that he was able to help.  

Ryuuji took a sip of the tea, relaxing a little as the tea soothed some of the ache. Another sip had him able to swallow, and he set the mug aside on the desk while he accepted the soup and tried to think through what Rin had just said.

It was probably something Rin would do for any friend, but Ryuuji’s heart couldn’t help but hope a little. It was an endless sort of hope and it always ached a little. Still…

He spooned some up, eyeing Rin’s tail and smiling softly as he drank it down. (Warm, flavorful, and soothing. Everything he could want.) One spoonful quickly led to a second, and then a third before he forced himself to pause and reach for the notebook.

“Got some study stuff for you,” he rasped. “Might help with the test.”

Rin gave a long whiny mournful noise and flopped across his bed, stretching out and rolling to stuff his face in the thick blankets along the edge next to the wall. 

"Ryuuji!" He whined in a muffled voice. The test would probably not go well anyway and, "can't we take a break today? You gotta be tired and I don't want to."  

“Do you ever?” Ryuuji teased. He nudged Rin’s leg with his foot, blushing a little at how much he wanted to keep his foot pressed against Rin’s leg. (And not just because he was pleasantly warm.) “Promise you’ll practice the basics I taught ya?”

He’d written a recipe down for Rin in the notebook, and felt like that was his best bet for making it interesting for Rin, but Rin could see it later. Ryuuji couldn’t be much help if he couldn’t talk. (And being in Rin’s bed with a meal Rin had made specifically for him to help his sore throat wasn’t helping his own ability to think.)

“This is really good,” he added as he took a few more spoonfuls. It was getting a little easier to swallow and he was relaxing back more into Rin’s surprisingly comfortable bed.

"No, I don't. I promise I'll practice tomorrow." Rin mumbled before reaching down to return the nudge with a finger against Ryuuji's ankle. 

He lifted his head, hoping the redness to his face wasn't obvious as he looked over his shoulder at Ryuuji. 

"Is it helping? I tried to make sure it was perfect for you!" Rin told him. 

Ryuuji seemed more peaceful now than when he had arrived and that made Rin happy.  

“Yeah,” Ryuuji managed at a louder volume than he had yet. “It’s helping a lot.” Then, a bit more softly, “thank you.” 

(Was Rin blushing or was Ryuuji imagining it? He wasn’t imagining the fingers teasing at his ankle, and Rin had made this specifically for him.)

“And you should really practice them tonight, but I’ll take it.” 

He finished the rest of the soup, blushing a little himself as he played it all over in his mind and tried to decide if he was reading into any of this. 

Grabbing his tea back up, he found it had gone a little cool, but he still curled around it anyway, shivering a little, and that wasn’t a good sign for it just being a sore throat. Ugh. 

Rin's tail had begun to wag at Ryuuji's words and he had to catch himself from accidentally smacking Ryuuji. But then Ryuuji was shivering and Rin lifted himself to scoot closer to peek at him. 

His eyes definitely had that glassy feverish quality that Rin had seen on other people and that just made Rin frown. It looked like he was getting worse rather than better. 

Rin reached out, setting his hand against Ryuuji's head again and chuffed an unhappy noise, sitting back on his haunches. 

"You're really sick." Rin grumbled worriedly. 

The shivering wasn't welcome, so, steeling himself for it, Rin set his hand over one of Ryuuji's and sent a flare of warmth over his skin. He was quickly having any embarrassment and reluctance to touch Ryuuji disappear under the worry.  

“It’s fine,” Ryuuji assured, staring wide-eyed at the fantastically warm hand on his own. He’d never realized how warm and soft Rin’s hands were. They were entirely nice to touch.

“I’m not that bad. If I was I wouldn’t be lucid. I’d probably be trying to tell—” Ryuuji cut himself off with a startled cough, horrified at how much he’d almost pulled a Rin and rambled part of a confession. 

Rin lifted an eyebrow at that reaction, curious but more worried about getting the trembling to stop. He couldn't remember what Shirou had done so long ago. 

Rin scooted closer until he was perched with his legs pressed against Ryuuji's leg. 

"If you weren't lucid… you'd tell me all Shima's most embarrassing moments." Rin filled in though he was certain that wasn't even a little close. 

Rin slipped his other hand under the mug and heated his hand to past what would be comfortable to touch and warmed the mug and the liquid inside slowly.  

“Shima…” Ryuuji’s attention was torn between too many touches and his own ridiculousness. How had the study session turned into an almost cuddle on Rin’s bed?

“Shima doesn’t need me to embarrass him. He does a great job of it all by himself.”

“Thanks —” The tea was steaming again, and Ryuuji lifted his gaze to find Rin much too close. His face went warm at the nearness and he found whatever he was going to say had slipped right away from his mind. 

Rin's eyes met Ryuuji's and his cheeks grew even hotter and it was his turn to choke on air. He offered a lopsided grin, a fang slipping over his lips. But the silence was stretching but he couldn't think of what to say. 

"You… should take a nap." Rin whispered. His eyes were caught between Ryuuji's eyes and his lips and the dark hair hanging over his temple that Rin wanted to touch.  

Ryuuji could, in all honesty, probably not trust his mind right now. He was clearly coming down with something, and it was likely making him see more than was really there.

Still, Rin was looking at his lips, and even Ryuuji’s sick mind was pretty damn sure what that meant. It was enough to have his heart fluttering and his breath catching a little with so much yearning that he had to swallow (agh!) again. 

“Here?” He asked softly, trying not to lean closer before he got his answer. 

Rin could feel his hair shifting with flickers of fire and that was embarrassing and hopefully didn't startle Ryuuji. 

Rin's face was burning (literally) but he nodded. "Yeah… here."  

With a moment of possibly fever induced daring, Ryuuji shifted one of the hands he was holding the tea with around so he could grab Rin’s hand in his own.

If this failed, he’d blame it on delirium and apologize. 

“You gonna join me?” Ryuuji asked, raising his gaze to Rin’s and brushing his thumb over Rin’s knuckles. 

Rin squeezed Ryuuji's hand and blushed brighter as his flames crawled down his tail. 

"Of course. I have to guard my princess." Rin breathed, wondering if he had fallen asleep during the study session and he was dreaming.  

Ryuuji shook his head with a huff as he brought the rest of the tea up to finish what was left. 

“I had to go and fall for a dork,” he muttered, and then, realizing what he’d said, blushed and spluttered and spilled some of the tea on both of their hands.

“I’m not a princess!” He yelped like that would cover what he’d said.

Rin was laughing a soft chuckle that made him tingle with a shy sort of affection. 

"That's right. You're my princess. There's a difference. I'd be mad if anyone else called you that." No one else had heard Rin call Ryuuji that. 

"And that's okay. I fell for a dork too." Rin admitted, his tail shifted without his permission to shyly brush over Ryuuji's leg.  

“Yeah?” Ryuuji asked softly, spilled tea and princess all but forgotten at that admission. (He could handle being Rin’s princess. He’d already had to deal with it for a while, and there were much worse things to be. And he kind of liked the my in that.) 

Then, without waiting for an answer, he tugged on the hand he had captive to pull Rin to settle beside him.

Rin squeaked and landed in a pile of limbs against Ryuuji, rapidly coming to the realization that this wasn't a dream and Ryuuji was solid and comfortable. Rin stretched out, hesitantly stretching an arm out to sit over Ryuuji's chest. 

He held himself uncertainly, trying to figure out what to do with his other arm and his tail that wanted to touch Ryuuji and his legs. How did people cuddle? Was that what was happening?  

Ryuuji finished the tea so he would have his hands free (and to soothe his throat from the talking.) Then, satisfied with that, he let his tired body do what it wanted and shifted down a little on the bed. He kept himself a bit elevated on the pillows and released Rin’s hand to wrap his arm around Rin instead, tugging him a bit closer. Ryuuji slipped one of his leg around so Rin’s was draped over it, and traced along the arm Rin had thrown over his chest until he found Rin’s hand and intertwined their fingers. 

“Okay?” He asked softly as his head tilted towards Rin’s. 

Rin looked up with wide eyes, the hot ghost of Ryuuji's touch over his arm had nearly shut off all his thoughts and he couldn't help but admire Ryuuji so close. He was handsome even with the sheen of sickness in his eyes. His body was pressed close and Rin swallowed down his tempting reaction to pull away with embarrassment. 

"Yeah." Rin whispered, letting his tail reach and loop around Ryuuji's leg. 

He stroked Ryuuji's hand, and sank into the embrace. It was everything he had hoped it would be and more. He had always wanted Ryuuji to hold him like this.  

“You’re gonna study… tomorrow. Pass the test.” Ryuuji swallowed and found it hurt a bit less than it had as Rin’s weight settled against him. “Then maybe… Maybe we can go out?”  

He was tired and close to sleep, but he’d stay awake a little longer for this.

Rin fell to the temptation and lifted a hand to brush through Ryuuji's hair, finding it as soft as he had thought it would be. He was starting to purr and that was mildly embarrassing. 

"I guess I'll study…" Rin sighed dramatically, curling a finger through a lock of dark hair. "But yeah… we can go on a date!" 

The word was exciting and he was already thinking of different things they could do together. 

"And… you should know." Rin said with a soft laugh. "I don't think Yukio will be coming back anytime soon. He left on a mission."  

Ryuuji’s eyes — which had lulled shut at the soothing sensation of Rin’s hand in his hair — popped back open. He blinked and looked down at Rin before snorting. 

“Tricky monkey.” He closed his eyes again and settled down for the nap that was quickly coming on. “Sounds like ya just wanted me to hang around.” Then, with a bit of a yawn, he shifted the arm he had around Rin so he could thread his fingers through Rin’s soft hair. “Soon as I’m better… go on a date…” 

Ryuuji drifted off feeling warm, safe, and like his throat was going to let him live. Which was good, because he was absolutely going on that date with Rin.

[morganaspendragonss]

Life will find you the love you seek (1/?)

@tarlos-spain and i are back at it again with another joint fic. this one is a 4.03 coda/4.04 spec fic with double whump. hope you guys enjoy!

vicky wrote this chapter, i have just had the honour of being the translator

ao3 | 1.8k

TK set his phone down on the nightstand. He knew Carlos wasn’t going to call any time soon. He probably shouldn’t leave his friends to eat alone, but TK knew that he wasn’t going to make good company.

He felt so stupid. It was like he couldn’t open his mouth or even lift a finger without fucking something up lately. He knew it was also stupid to think that his life was falling apart, but being away from Carlos on their night off and accepting that his fiancé was angry with him – more so than he was letting on – hurt too much.

Why couldn’t he have left things be? Why hadn’t he let Carlos take care of everything with Iris? She was his friend, after all; he knew her better than anyone, and all TK had to do was give Carlos time.

But he had let his stupid hot head get the best of him and, like always when he failed to avoid his problems, his attempts to fix things only made them worse.

He thought about calling Cooper, but his sponsor wasn’t his therapist and TK wasn’t thinking of doing anything stupid that came under Cooper’s jurisdiction. For once, it wasn’t about drugs. This time, TK could feel the greyness closing in, the one he felt when he lost the people he loved.

It was all grey, and pain, and depression.

If he lost Carlos over his actions, he would never forgive himself. And if something had happened to Iris because of what he did, he would take off running in the other direction, like he always did, because he wouldn’t be able to look into Carlos’s eyes again if he knew he’d made Iris get worse.

It was already bad enough, knowing that Carlos didn’t want to come home. He was so angry at him; he’d barely looked at TK for two days and they hadn’t spoken but for two cold phone calls.

He had no appetite that night, and eventually Marjan peeked into the room to tell him that they were leaving. Nobody asked and nobody stayed back to check on him; they knew him and they knew he needed to be alone to fight his own demons tonight.

At some point he fell asleep to music, listening through his headphones in case Carlos called. This way, if he did, TK would hear it no matter the hour, and he would pick up.

But Carlos didn’t call.

TK slept through the night, but he was tormented by nightmares of being alone and never seeing Carlos’s smile again. He hated sleeping in an empty bed, he hated the cold sheets, and he hated turning over and remembering that he and Carlos had argued. They’d barely spoken in two days and the two phone conversations they did have were painful.

They hadn’t fought like this since the breakup. TK still had dreams about that sometimes. It had been his fault back then and it was his fault now too; he had this way of ruining things with Carlos, of saying and doing everything that he shouldn’t. Sometimes TK wondered how long it would be until Carlos got tired and left.

He sat up in bed and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. No missed calls from Carlos, no new messages.

Nothing.

It had been so cold, the way he had said “I love you,” last night.

Carlos had lots of different ways of saying it. There was the whisper before bed on nights their shifts lined up or when they had days off. There was the mixture of a grunt and a moan when they fucked; Carlos would say it with his head buried in TK’s shoulder at the moment they both came. TK loved the “I love you” Carlos would say when he wanted to make him feel better, when something had happened and Carlos knew he was feeling down. Hearing the words always made TK smile in the morning, and the “I love you” he said when they talked about the wedding was magic.

But the way Carlos had said it last night was that of someone who was pissed at him; it was forced out and, in a way, it didn’t feel quite true. TK hadn’t needed to be able to see him to know that Carlos’s mind was entirely somewhere else – with Iris, maybe, or the thought that her illness had gotten worse.

Maybe he didn’t want to come home so he didn’t have to face TK and tell him what he was truly thinking.

TK knew that Carlos needed time and he had given it to him – two whole nights in which they barely saw or spoke to each other. He had done something awful by going to see Iris. Carlos was right; pressing the issue of the divorce papers had been a terrible idea.

He started to tap out a text, only to delete it. He tried again, and again, but ended up not saying anything – there wasn’t anything he could say without worrying he’d make Carlos even angrier.

In the end, he decided to call him.

It wasn’t a surprise that Carlos didn’t pick up but that didn’t make it hurt any less. TK left him a message; hopefully, when the storm blew over, Carlos would listen to it and they could talk, hopefully before TK lost his mind thinking that he had lost him forever.

“Carlos, babe. I’m sorry… I’m sorry for everything. I shouldn’t have gone to talk to Iris and I should have told you that I did. I’m so sorry. I get you’re mad with me but, please, call me. I can’t go one more day without talking to you or seeing you. Wait, fuck, I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to but… I miss you, and if I’ve messed this up, let me fix it. Let’s talk about this and we can… Let’s just talk.”

He wasn’t expecting an instant reply, but he still stared at his phone for a few long minutes. Then he let it drop to the bed and hugged his knees, burying his head in them and fighting with everything in him not to let himself get dragged down by fear.

Eventually, TK showered, letting the hot water wash away all the bad thoughts. Carlos was going to come back, he wouldn’t be mad forever. They would fix this…like they always did.

He was making himself a coffee when his phone rang. TK sprinted to pick it up, but it wasn’t Carlos.

“Andrea, good morning,” he said, fearing Carlos had slept at his parents’ place. The dressing down he’d received from Andrea not long after he woke up from the coma had been intense. She’d reminded him of his mother – they were both women who would do anything for their sons. Andrea had asked him in a way that seemed more like a threat to never break her son’s heart again, to look after Carlos and let himself be looked after, because Carlos loved him like he’d never loved anyone else.

If Andrea knew what TK had done by talking to Iris, she wasn’t going to be happy.

“Hi, TK, mijo. I hope I’m not disturbing you.” She sounded calmer than TK had expected.

“No, not at all. I wasn’t doing anything. Carlos and I were planning on spending the day together… Well, we were before all this. Now, I don’t know…” He laughed nervously. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. Well, I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ve been calling Carlos since last night and he still hasn’t picked up. I know he’s been upset over the situation with Iris but it’s not like him to not answer.”

She was right; it was one thing for Carlos not to talk to TK after they’d fought. It was another thing entirely to not talk to his mom.

“Maybe his phone died. He told me he was going to spend the night in the hospital with Iris, and he would have gone straight to work in the morning.”

“He told you that? I went to see Iris before dinner and she said Carlos had spent the afternoon with her but he’d left before evening.”

“Oh.”

It was a stupid thing to say, TK knew that, but Carlos had lied to him. He hadn’t spent the night with Iris, he hadn’t said a word to him, and he hadn’t responded to his message.

He didn’t know whether to worry more over the thought that Carlos didn’t want anything to do with him, or that something might have happened to him. The first one terrified TK; without Carlos, he would be left in a dark, dangerous place from which he wouldn’t want to return. But the second… The second made him feel the closest thing to a heart attack he’d ever felt.

“TK, mijo, are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m, um… Andrea, I haven’t heard from Carlos since last night. He told me he wouldn’t be coming home because he was staying with Iris. He sounded… He tried to hide it from me, but he sounded mad. I messed up with Iris and now I don’t know how to fix it.”

“First things first, cariño, you need to breathe. I’m sure something urgent came up at work or he’s busy working to find whoever attacked Iris.”

“But why hasn’t he called me? It’s been over twelve hours since I last heard from him and…if he’s this angry with me…”

“TK, I think I know you well enough by now to know what you’re thinking, and I know where that path could take you. Why don’t you come to the ranch? We can have a coffee and talk, and you can stay to eat if you want.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to be alone right now, but my dad is working and I don’t want to bother the crew. I just can’t stop thinking about everything that’s happened. It hurts so much.”

“I hope you haven’t eaten. I’m making cookies and Carlos tells me you’re their number one fan.”

TK smiled. He missed having a mother figure in his life. Andrea had been there after his mom’s death, but she had been a little distant, making sure to give him the space he needed at the time.

But now he needed her and TK was grateful to not be alone as the hours went by and Carlos still didn’t answer his message or call him. And he was grateful most of all when the worst thing possible happened – Lexi Mitchell called him from the precinct.

No-one had seen Carlos all morning.

“We’ve found his car, TK. It was abandoned in a vacant lot, there’s no trace of Carlos anywhere. Do you know where he might be?”

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

👀 :3

doodle i am holding your shoulders. i am staring directly into your eyes. run away now i am going to talk about danny phantom at you.

i have. ELEVEN. YEARS. worth of danny phantom headcanons built up in my brain. canon is nothing to me i have written and rewritten the show like 4 times over. but also i love canon so it gets to stay. im just improving upon it. i allow myself to be pretentious about ONE (1) piece of media ever and it is danny phantom . so im the only person in the world who is correct about this. ok. shaking you.

do u want to know the backstory of nearly every ghost . what they were like when they were alive/how they died and how it relates to their role in the afterlife. I GOT YOU. do you want a full rundown of dannys powers and how they work. I GOT YOU AGAIN. DO YOU WANT. an ESSAY on the MYTHOLOGY of the ghost zone. do you want me to talk about the way the ghost zone royalty system works. because my god. ive got you.

trips and falls and like a bazillion sticky notes and pictures and papers spill out of my coat and scatter in the wind. oops sorry that was just my in depth analysis on Danny's relationship with nearly every character in the show. teehee <3

NOT TO MENTION popular fanon aus that live in my brain forever and i have my own versions of. i love you ghost king danny. i love you ghost hunger. hey can we talk about ghost hunger? i think the fact that i discovered ghost hunger the same year fall out boy released the young volcanoes music video did something irreparable to my brain. did you know i also like hannibal. these facts are completely unrelated.

FUCK torture fics FUCK dissection fics. fuck anyone who says the fentons are not good parents. the fentons are EXTREMLY good parents and i WILL die on this hill. every time someone in the modern dp fandom writes about how horrible the fentons are i lose like 3 years off of my life. how can you be so wrong. they are not evil they are not horrible they would not dissect their own son . i will die on this hill. im in the fucking trenches out here. someone recently posted a fic series (series!!!!) of oneshots specifically about jack fenton discovering dannys secret by accident and also being a good father and i swear to you i almost started crying on the spot. i havent even read the fic yet.

hmmmmm. what else is there. theres so much. i could go on about danny phantom.for so many hours. i havent actually read a glitch in time yet its been burning a hole on my nightstand because i KNOW as soon as i finish it we are going to be in 24/7 danny phantom lockdown for like a month and i want to do that when i have energy to make art. now that i have my new laptop this time may be sooner than you think. beware!

[queenaeducan]

is it still ok to ask about your wips? i'd love to know more about the ian/solas inquisition long fic! :)

WIP Ask Game! @rozhevisny

i'm always up for talking about my wips!

the inquisition fic is basically an adaptation of roleplays + unwritten scenes that existed only in mine and joly's heads. if you've read our roleplays (which i think you've read some!) then you'll know at least some of the scenes that are going in it.

since it's solas/ian it kind of crosses in and out with the story we play through in the game. there's a lot of focus on side quests, hidden scenes, agents, and companions of the main game of inquisition (with exceptions, HTLA will probably play a bigger role b/c it involves tamar aeducan and gorim saelac aeducan rather than the in-game wardens). just for example the first several chapters cover things like solas's request to find the veil-orbs, the captured inquisition soldiers in the fallow mire, how the allied mages are trained to seal the breach, etc.

rn it mostly exists as an outline, but i have the prologue partially written and a few lines of the first solas chapter. i shared part of the prologue (written from thora's pov b/c it basically leaves off where the red lyrium fic ends) this last sunday.

[pearlessance]

Lust Among Thieves [part one]

Raider!Joel Miller x reader x raider!Tommy Miller

Summary: Survival is a skill that everyone had to gain after the world ended. Your father was killed in the Boston QZ, leaving you alone and forced to survive all on your lonesome. Just to eat, you had to steal from strangers, but unfortunately, you picked two of the worst people to target. What you didn’t expect was the lust that steadily built between all three of you. Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, dubcon definitely but not quite noncon, reader is held hostage by Joel and Tommy, threesome, canon typical violence, mean!Joel and manipulative!Tommy, unprotected sex, slowburn, angst with a happy ending NOTE: this is a fic i've cowritten with my bff joelmillersgirlfriend!! she has sooo many good fics over on her A03, her most recent one is called Hangover In the Sunshine and if you don't go read it I'll cry kay <3 Read on A03! MASTERLIST

It felt as if every vein in your body was pulsing, begging for a moment to stop and breathe in fresh oxygen. You couldn’t stop moving though, you had to keep running like your life depended on it - because it did.

You had grown desperate after fleeing the QZ. In the QZ there were rations, yes, but it had never been full on starvation. You had to steal from them. You had no other choice.

But now you were caught and fleeing the scene, tumbling through the thick Massachusetts snow. The sound of rapid steps behind you made you speed up, your worn boots crunching in the snow. You had seen the two men from afar, both broad-shouldered and scary. They weren’t like the other raiders you had encountered in the city, loud and rambunctious. Those were easy to spot, easy to avoid.

These two, on the other hand, were cool, quiet, and calculated. The only reason you had the upper hand was because you watched them from inside the city, following them back to the cabin they resided in deep in the woods. You watched silently from the window as they unpacked everything they had scouted out; food, batteries, medicine, even something as futile as beer.

They didn’t need everything that they had. So, every time they went into the city, you would steal little by little. You didn’t anticipate that they would actually notice. You made sure to cover your snow tracks, but they were simply too observant.

A hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back hard enough that the air was knocked out of your lungs. You huffed and fell to the ground, the snow melting around your aching body.

“Got the bitch, Tommy,” graveled a voice from above you. Before you could turn and glance up, you felt a heavy boot press into the side of your face. It smushed your face into the snow, the heat of your cheek making the snow burn as it melted against your face.

“Let me go,” you growled, flailing your body in an attempt to escape. The weight of the boot on your face shifted, a warning. You could tell that if this man wanted to crush you under the boot, he very well could.

You could hear a low whistle blow behind you, the man who you assumed was “Tommy” beginning to speak. “Damn, brother. She’s a feisty thing. Didn’t think a little girl was the one comin’ and stealin’ our food.”

“A little girl who took what didn’t belong to her. I say that we make sure that she never steals again,” spoke the voice from above you. Pathetically, your eyes watered at the threat.

“P-please,” you begged, clenching your fists into the snow. “I’m sorry, okay. I-I’ve been out here on my own, I would’ve starved.”

“Not my problem,” growled the man from above once more, his boot pressing harder into your face. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to breathe from the weight of his foot.

“Come on now, Joel, she’s beggin’ so nice. She’s young, could be real fit if we put some food in her. She could be useful,” Tommy said, tutting at the sound of your sniffling.

“I didn’t sign up for no babysittin’. She would be just another mouth to feed,” Joel grumbled.

“No,” you pleaded, whimpering when Joel’s boot heel shifted, pushing into your throat. You gasped, wrapping your hands around his thick calf. Even though you couldn’t turn your head to look at him, you still clawed at his leg, trying anything to get him to relieve the pressure. “I can be useful.”

Your words sounded more like wheezes at this point, but suddenly, both men were silent. Perhaps they were exchanging glances, silently conveying a message without even speaking. Whatever it was prompted Joel to release his boot from your neck, finally allowing you to breathe. Your coughs were rough and raspy, interrupted by you taking in deep breaths.

“She’s your responsibility. If you wake up and see her standin’ over you with your own gun, don’t be surprised.”

Instead of replying, you felt four hands grabbing you and pulling you up. Two held you in place while the other two tied your hands quickly. You didn’t even have the opportunity to glance back before you were being dragged forward, a heavy palm wrapped around your wrist.

“Names Tommy,” greeted the voice from beside you. Tommy leaned forward, his face just inches from yours. He continued to walk even as you stumbled over your own feet, overwhelmed by the sudden proximity of the stranger.

Seeing him from afar did him absolutely no justice. Long, dirty blonde hair, bright eyes, and a charming smile that made your face warm, despite the situation.

“What’s a little thing like you doin’ all the way out here? Shouldn’t you be cuddled up with your daddy in the QZ?” Tommy asked, but not with malice. He held a natural curiosity behind his words.

You didn’t speak, unable to form a coherent sentence, too busy thinking about the situation at hand. What were they going to do to you? Kill you? Torture you?

“Don’t worry,” Tommy said in a hushed whisper, trying to hide his sentence from Joel. “I won’t let nothin’ happen to you. You’re safe.”

As much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn’t. Not even when you got back to the very same cabin you had stolen from earlier. Not when Tommy removed your restraints, because when you finally got a good look at Joel, you knew he’d kill you if he got the chance.

All arms and frowns and enthralling gazes - just the thought of being alone with him made your stomach drop.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked Tommy when he pulled you into one of the bedrooms, sifting through the drawers to find you something dry to wear. He glanced back at you, his aquiline nose enhancing the rest of his side profile. He was certainly nice to look at, as much as he shouldn’t have been.

“Joel can be… rash sometimes,” Tommy sighed, glancing back at the drawer. “You don’t deserve to die just because my brother is throwin’ a fit.”

Finally deciding on a shirt, Tommy slunk back over to where you were standing. The backs of your legs were pressed against the rotted bed when he approached you. You had nowhere to run, nowhere to move.

You looked up at Tommy, at this staggering man who was at least a decade older than you. You should’ve been trembling in fear, scared of the anticipation of what they might do to you. Instead, you found yourself oddly excited, suddenly fearless.

Being in the QZ, you lived a strict life. Your father, the guards - you had no freedom. At least now, you could decide your fate. Try to run away, or play along. Make Tommy and Joel happy until eventually, you could slip away.

Tommy used his free hand to run across your bottom lip, pulling a stray piece of hair away. His eyes moved down from your eyes straight to your lips, watching the way they opened. He pressed his index finger into your mouth, spreading your lips slowly.

“Wonder what this mouth could be useful for, baby. You said you’d be useful for me, right?” Tommy whispered, leaning down to brush his lips across yours. Goosebumps erupted across your body, an unexpected rush flooding in between your thighs.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Tommy pull back, not quite kissing you. You glanced back to see Joel standing in the doorway, most likely watching everything. The expression on his face wasn’t one you could read, but the way his shoulders were squared off told you everything you needed to know.

“Get changed. Knock on the door when you’re done,” Tommy commanded, handing you the fresh clothes before walking out of the room. He shut the door behind him, but you could still hear the hushed whispers from the hall.

“Jesus, if you fuck her, Tommy, I’ll kick your ass back to Texas.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do with her then? We can’t kill her, Joel. She’s a little girl.”

Even with the door closed, even with a sound barrier, you can hear his frustration. “She stole from us. You got no idea who she belongs to. Could be part of a bigger group. What happens if we let her go and she brings back a whole other world of problems? She knows where we sleep, Tommy.”

There’s a single, fleeting moment of hesitation before he says again, “No. We’re not going to kill her. That’s not who we are.”

“Isn’t it?”

You don’t bother to listen to the rest of their bickering. That moment of doubt was enough to remind you how dangerous a situation you’ve wound up in, bringing you back to the task at hand.

The room is small, furnished with little else but the withered bed and beat-up dresser. There are two windows with sheets hung up in front of them, but of course, they’re both nailed shut.

The nightstand beside the bed has a lamp on it. You could use it to smash the window open, but they’d hear the shattering of glass and be on you in a minute.

You try to pry out the long, iron nails securing the window closed. The rust turns your aching fingers a sickly shade of orange, a vivid reminder of how you’re stuck and at the mercy of two strangers.

“Goin’ somewhere?” spoke a voice from behind you, making you jump in surprise. Both Joel and Tommy are standing near the entrance of the bedroom, watching you as you try to escape. They must’ve opened the door when you were trying to pry the window open, too distracted by your hopes of escaping to notice the men.

Shaking your head no, you cowered in the corner of the room, praying that Tommy would protect you from Joel’s wrath.

Tommy stood behind Joel with his arms crossed, a small expression of disappointment painted across his face. He truly had faith that you wouldn’t try to escape, which was as endearing as it was ridiculous. Of course you’d try to escape.

“Guess you can’t leave her alone, Tommy. If she eats, sleeps, pisses, you better have an eye on her,” Joel growled, his eyes staring daggers at you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your free hand still clenching the clothes that Tommy gave you. Joel’s eyes move down to the clothes, then back up to you.

“He gave you a chance to have some privacy, but you fucked that up real quick,” Joel said, nodding his head in your direction. “Get on with it.”

You hesitated, glancing at both men with wide doe eyes. “With what?”

Joel huffs, crossing his arms without even explaining any further. Both men were mirror images of each other, arms crossed and gazes heavy. You glanced over to Tommy, thinking that maybe he’d rescue you from the situation. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to see the toothy grin that spread across Tommy’s mouth, his eyebrows raised in excitement.

He shrugged, but the smile on his face showed you just how much he was enjoying the situation. A wave of anger washed over you, at how much neither of them cared. They weren’t as bad as other raiders you had encountered; cannibals, rapists, slavers. Still, they were holding you hostage, upping the ante if you made any mistakes.

Your hands shook when you gripped the wet puffer jacket that was covering most of your upper half. You slowly pulled it back, the nylon material swishing against your body, dropping to the ground at your feet. Pausing, you looked to see Joel looking away, a frown etched into his face. Tommy, on the other hand, was watching you like a hawk.

The skin on your stomach broke out in goosebumps when you slid it up, exposing your warm skin to the brothers. Joel still wasn’t looking, confusing you. Why would he order you to undress for him but not even watch?

Soon, you were standing in just your worn bra and panties, reaching to grab the fresh clothes.

“How long have you been on your own?” Tommy asked suddenly, making Joel glance up at you in response. You stood there stupidly, attempting to cover yourself from their gazes. It had been months of scavenging on your own, rarely finding something to last more than a couple of days. You knew that you had lost an uncomfortable amount of weight, but you didn’t need Tommy to point it out.

“I thought that you assumed I was with a group?” you asked, your face turning pale from the way Joel looked at you. A seemingly permanent scowl reappeared on his face, the muscles in his arms flexing, like he was controlling himself not to close the distance between you.

“Okay, smart ass,” Tommy snorted, rolling his eyes at you. “I can tell you’ve been on your own, with how skinny you look,” he pauses before speaking again. “Must’ve been hard.”

You swallow, nodding stiffly at the statement. It was unbearably difficult, fleeing the QZ after you watched your father get executed. Though your relationship with him was on the rocks, he was all you had left. You had to survive on your own, on the outside. You heard stories growing up in the QZ, of how dangerous it was outside of the city walls.

The rumors were nothing compared to what you had seen.

“It has been,” you whispered. “Hard.”

Something shifted behind Joel’s eyes before he turned away, brushing by Tommy as he walked out of the bedroom. Tommy frowned at the sight of his brother exiting the room.

Turning back to you, he spoke, “Well, hurry up and get dressed so you can get somethin’ to eat. I’m sure it’ll do you good.”

You nodded, shivering in the corner of the room. “Cold.”

Tommy laughed, that Cheshire grin of his making your stomach twist. He moved over to you, rubbing his palms against the skin of your bare shoulders. His large, rough hands moving swiftly over your shoulders, the consistent friction creating a warmth that started from your shoulders and spread between your thighs.

“How’s that feel?” Tommy asked, rubbing his thumbs into the collum of your neck. He added a bit more pressure at the tip of his fingers, digging them into your now-warm skin.

“Good,” you squeaked, still clenching the shirt in your hand. Tommy’s hands left your shoulders, pulling the shirt away from you. He raised your arms up, letting his hands slide over the skin of your wrists, higher, higher. Slowly, he worked the worn, long-sleeved cotton shirt over your frame. When your head peeked out of the hole of the shirt, Tommy winked down at you, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

“You’re a pretty thing,” Tommy whispered, moving down to his knees to remove your boots and help you step into the shorts he had given you. His hands slid up the shorts, warm palms spread across the apex of your thighs. You could hardly bring yourself to look down at him, the heavy look in his eyes making a shiver run down your spine. “I told you, I’m not gonna let anybody hurt you, and that includes Joel. Just try not to set him off, alright?”

You nodded, watching Tommy run his lips across the skin of your thigh. His mustache tickled your skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to react to the feeling. You were frozen and your eyes couldn’t move away from Tommy’s.

He kissed a path across your thigh, creating a trail of goosebumps. “Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t,” you whispered, experimentally extending your hand to run through Tommy’s hair. It was long and shaggy, but surprisingly soft, the strands falling through your fingers easily. Tommy hummed at the feeling, those sharp canines making yet another appearance.

“As much as I’d love to let you braid my hair, we better not leave Joel waitin’. He’d get suspicious,” Tommy joked when he stood, groaning at the sound of his knees popping.

You pulled your hand back, peering up at Tommy through heavy lashes. This was insane, you were insane to be entertaining his advances. But, he wanted to take care of you. He could protect you.

“Suspicious of what?” you asked, blushing when you felt Tommy’s hand take hold of yours. He laced his large fingers through your own, grinning down at your question.

“Of me not being able to control myself. Now, come on,” he spoke, pulling you along with him, not allowing you time to process his words. Your clothed feet followed Tommy out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into the tiny kitchen and living room space. Joel was using a portable burner to warm up some food, not even looking up when both you and Tommy walked in.

“Look, Joel,” Tommy said, gesturing to you. “It’s your favorite.”

You watched Joel’s frowned face meet your own before dropping to look at your shirt. Your eyes followed, reading the name Bob Dylan. Tommy snickered at Joel’s expression; full of frowns and impatience. Their dynamic was interesting, to say the least.

Even though you should have felt scared of Joel, you found yourself relating to him. To use anger and lack of empathy. After watching your father die, and losing everything, you understood that empty feeling that you recognized in Joel.

“The moment I saw it, I knew you would like it. She winnin’ you over yet?” Tommy asked, pulling your hand to walk further into the kitchen. Joel rolled his eyes, propping his body up against the counter behind him. He was so broad-shouldered, you couldn’t even process how he fit in the tiny kitchen.

“Cute. Can’t say she is, Tommy,” Joel grumbled, stirring the pot that he was working on. Tommy released your hand, joining Joel in preparing dinner.

“I really am sorry,” you suddenly sputtered, both of the men looking at you in response. “I was desperate. In the QZ they always had at least some food, I-I’d never starved before.”

Tommy’s smile faltered, his eyes meeting Joel’s in a silent conversation.

“You were in a QZ? What are you doin’ out here?” Joel asked, cutting off the gas burner. You could feel a shift in the energy, though you couldn’t figure out what exactly it meant.

You nodded. “Went to the Boston QZ with my dad when the virus hit. I was there ever since.”

“But now you’re not.” Joel huffed. “Why?”

“It's not important,” you whispered.

Joel’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t test me,” he replied.

Tommy’s eyes caught yours, silently pleading for you to play along. After all, you did tell him that you would try to stay on Joel’s good side.

“They killed him there, and they were going to kill me next. I had to flee.”

He stares at you for what feels like a long time, skin burning beneath his gaze. In the moment of silence, you see the similarities between them; they share the same rugged exterior, the same aquiline nose, the same crease between their brows. Though Tommy’s quite a bit softer, face not contorted into a perpetual scowl like Joel’s.

“Your dad,” Joel says simply. Not a question but rather a demand for information. An order.

You shake your head, averting your gaze. “It doesn’t matt-” you began, but after you saw the dark look on Tommy’s face, you corrected yourself. “There isn’t much to say. He broke FEDRA rules, so they made him pay.”

“Not much of a daddy’s girl, I take it?” Joel questioned. This was the most that Joel had looked at you since the moment you met him, and the heat of his gaze was overwhelming. It felt like an interrogation, a “good cop, bad cop” scenario - with much higher stakes.

“He was all I had,” you said, tone wavering. The room was heavy, shrouded in uncertainty. Neither Joel nor you spoke or created a new rebuttal. The silence lasted for a couple of minutes before Tommy spoke.

“Come on, you two. You can play twenty-one questions later. Let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

And even though Joel had only warmed up a few cans of chicken noodle soup, you swore that it was the best thing that you had eaten in years. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you hadn’t had a meal in days, but either way, it was delicious.

“Slow down, little girl. Gonna make yourself puke,” Tommy teased. He sat across from the table with you, his feet propped up the table as he ate from the bowl in his hands. Joel was sitting alone in the small living room, slowly sipping from his bowl.

“It’s been days,” you spoke in between bites. Tommy nodded, suppressing a grin.

“Yeah, we know. You really dug into our stash the last time you came. When was it, a month ago now?”

You swallowed, sheepishly avoiding his smile. “Thirty-eight days. It lasted for twenty-seven of them.”

Tommy hummed. “That’s a long time with no food. I can’t blame you, for what you did.”

“Tommy!” Joel hissed from the living room, but his brother paid him no mind.

“Come on, Joel, be serious. She’s harmless. Probably spent the past ten years livin’ in the QZ, that’s half her life. She hasn’t seen what it’s actually like out here; she hasn’t lived it.”

Joel exhales through his nose angrily, turning back to focus on his food. “I’m over this conversation.”

And when Joel said he was over, he meant it. For the rest of the night, you were a ghost to him; invisible. Even later on, you were sitting with Tommy on the small couch in the living room. Tommy was pulling information out of you - what your name was, where you were from, if you liked living in the QZ - but Joel didn’t bat an eye. The only question that made Joel shift in his seat at the kitchen table was “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” you said, suddenly very aware of how insane the situation was. Both of the men were probably almost double your age, rabid, dangerous, but you weren’t really scared. You were more so… intrigued. They had fed you, and Tommy had comforted you. Maybe being with them wasn’t any worse than being on your own.

“Christ,” Tommy exhaled, “Barely old enough to drink. Not that that matters anymore.” He reached down, pulling his bag over from the corner of the couch. His slender fingers produced a bottle of Jack, half empty. “Was gonna use it for a Molotov but I think we could all use somethin’ to take the edge off. Ever have some of this before?”

You shook your head. “I’ve only ever drank vodka,” you admitted, watching how Tommy’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “I had some friends in school who would steal bottles from some of the stalls.”

“Bad influences,” Tommy said, instantly becoming hypocritical when he passed the bottle of jack over to you. You took it from him, glancing down at the bronze liquid glowing from the setting sun. Your fingers twisted the cap off, swishing the liquid back and forth before you took a swig.

You winced at the feeling of the liquid fire running down your throat, a chortle coming from the end of the couch. Both your throat and face were burning with the way Tommy was grinning at you.

“Got a little somethin’ right there,” Tommy said, reaching across the couch to wipe up the excess liquid that dribbled down your chin. He brought his index finger to his lips, sucking the alcohol from the tip of his finger. “Mmm. Sweet as pie.”

The heat on your face made you take another sip of the alcohol. A sudden scrape came from the kitchen, with Joel standing up tall and reaching for his rifle. “I’m taking watch.”

He was out of the house before you could blink.

“He’ll come around,” Tommy reassured, taking the jack out of your hand before swallowing down a big swig.

“There’s a half-decent bed in that room there,” Tommy said, gesturing to the hallway. “You can lay down if you’re tired. It’s been a long day for all of us.”

You eyed the bedroom, gazing longingly at the queen bed. You spoke before thinking through your next words. “You’re being very nice. Why?”

Tommy locks eyes with you as he drinks from the jack bottle. “‘Cuz I think you’re cute,” he winks when he finishes swallowing. He stretches out his long legs, resting them on the small coffee table before leaning his head back. His throat is exposed, showing off his thick and unruly beard.

“Either take the bed or I’m gonna beat you to it,” Tommy paused to yawn. “I’m exhausted.

Standing, you took his advice. Tommy’s eyes were shut, not watching you trail into the bedroom. You momentarily considered running to the front door but for all you knew, Joel was standing right outside. You needed to think, work slowly to build their trust, and then try to escape.

“Thank you, Tommy,” you said from the bed, climbing in and tucking yourself beneath the sheets. He hummed from the couch, not sleeping but also not paying you much mind. It was surprising how much he had already begun to trust you. His trust would be easy to win over. Joel’s… not so much.

Stretched out in the bed, you doubted you would be able to fall asleep. Your thoughts were racing, your father's death, being held captive. It was just too much to sink in. You glanced around the room momentarily, taking note of how this bedroom lacked windows. No escaping through here.

What made things so much worse was how you found yourself watching Tommy resting on the couch. His Adam’s apple bobbed each time he swallowed, his long, slender legs stretching across the coffee table. His long, layered hair covered his face from you, and you could practically feel the way it felt between your fingers.

You thought about how he had kissed you earlier, all of his affection confusing you. You shouldn’t be attracted to him. He was holding you captive.

Pathetically, you found yourself thinking of Joel as well. Of his heavy presence, of how he could make the energy in the room shift just by stepping into it. The heat of his gaze shouldn’t have made your palms grow clammy and your head go all fuzzy; in both fear and some sort of weird attraction. Men in the QZ weren’t like Joel and Tommy, not rugged and full of pure testosterone.

Somehow, in between creating escape plans while simultaneously reminiscing about the way Tommy’s palms felt against your skin, you ended up falling asleep. Your dreams were full of images of strong, thick hands, as well as crunchy snow. You weren’t sure how long you were asleep before being woken up by Tommy.

He was leaning over you as you groggily blinked up, uncertain of what was happening.

“I’m about to take watch. Joel will be on the couch now. Everythin’ okay?” Tommy questioned, brushing his fingers across your forehead to see your face more clearly. The light from the lamp streaming from the living room into the bedroom accentuated Tommy’s features. This could be a moment where you use his flirtation to your advantage.

Without thinking, you laced your fingers through his hair. It was a quick, instinctive action that ended with you pulling Tommy in for a kiss. The kiss was rushed, fervent, an electric buzz shocking your entire body and making your pussy hum in excitement.

He took every opportunity to deepen the kiss, nipping and licking at your lips. You’re manipulating him, using him to your benefit. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s only natural for your body to react to the feeling of his hands running across your throat.

“Well, good mornin’ to you too,” Tommy laughed into your mouth, pulling away. A web of spit connected between your lips, both of your eyes moving to watch the string break. “Fuck. Aren’t you full of surprises?”

He glances over to Joel, who is stretched out on the living room couch. His arm was thrown over his eyes to block the light of the lantern, not paying any attention to what you and Tommy were up to.

After realizing that Joel wasn’t watching, he used both of his hands to cradle your face. He kissed you so passionately that it was almost hard to breathe, a mashing of lips and teeth. One of his heavy hands reached down to palm your breast, experimentally squeezing a handful. The sensitive peak of your nipple brushed against your bra from the way you were arching your back, making you gasp into Tommy’s mouth.

“I’m gonna be hard for you the whole damn time I’m on watch,” he whispered, pulling both his hand and body away from you. He stood over you, adjusting himself in his pants.

“Be safe,” you said breathlessly, running your palm across his hand. Tommy shot you a toothy grin, flipping your hand over into his own.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied.

Your plan was working.

In fact, it was working incredibly well for you. You were slowly starting to gain Tommy’s trust, and you had survived past the first night. Nights turned into days and soon it was weeks that you had been held captive by the men.

Tommy couldn’t help but grow close to you, not with the way you would bat your eyes at him when Joel wasn’t looking. You clung to him like a dog, trying to work anything out of him. It wasn’t before long that he finally spilled some information.

“Why does Joel have a stick up his ass?” you asked Tommy, helping him gather the wood that he had just chopped.

“Hey now, watch your mouth,” Tommy said, but the amused smile told you that he agreed with your statement. “He wasn’t the same, after outbreak day.”

You nodded, holding a piece of wood to your chest. “None of us were. I was so young when it happened. I’m glad that I can’t remember what it was like.”

“It was terrifyin’, not knowin’ what the hell was goin’ on. But losin’ her, that’s what did it for Joel. Wasn’t no time machine to go back in time to fix it.”

He was cracking, getting much too comfortable with you. This was your chance to get something to use against Joel.

“Who was she? His wife?” you asked, making Tommy laugh through his nose.

“Joel was no romantic. She was his daughter, Sarah. Best soccer player in the goddamn world,” Tommy chortled, grabbing the rest of the wood from the snow-covered ground.

It made sense, that Joel had a daughter who died. Only a deep, soul-crushing pain could make someone as empty as Joel.

The look on your face must’ve alerted Tommy that he probably shouldn’t have told you any of that information. His eyes widened as he swallowed, chuckling nervously.

“Don’t tell Joel that you know that.”

And you didn’t. You held the information and waited. The perfect opportunity would arise where you could use it for your benefit.

For weeks you’d watched them. Memorized their patterns, their habits. You’d taken note of every rotation in watch shifts, every outing to gather food or supplies. It’s Tommy’s turn to check the snares today, leaving you and Joel alone in the cabin.

The two of you had established a routine of your own on these days. Silence, as Joel prefers, and to keep far enough away from each other. Tommy didn’t bring up your kiss around Joel, but he was just as flirtatious as ever with you.

They’d fed you, clothed you, returned the strength to your bones. Carved room for you in their lives, despite your unplanned arrival. And yet despite all of this, you knew you had to get out. And if you were to ever have a chance, it had to be today.

Joel sits in the living room, knife in hand as he carves something into the piece of wood to pass the time. You can hear the steady grating of metal, a soft hum that echoes in the cabin.

You don’t get close, too afraid to look him in the eye, too afraid his heavy gaze will deter you. Instead, you stand in the doorway, creeping slowly towards the front door. “Tommy should be back soon, right?”

He doesn’t say anything. Just whittles away at the wood in his hands.

“I hope he catches another deer,” you say, steadily creeping towards the front door. It’s less than a foot away, so close you could reach out and touch it.

But you wait, holding tight to your patience.

“Said he’d teach me how to skin it,” you continue, timing each step with your voice, with the scraping of his knife.

Joel makes a sound at the back of his throat. Not quite a response, but an acknowledgment that he’s hearing you.

You reach out your hand and take the iron lock between your fingers, trying to draw at each syllable as much as possible without sounding strange. “I’m not sure I’ll be any good at it, to be honest with you. All the…the blood, you know? I’ve seen it before, up close, but…it’s different. Isn’t it?”

This time he does respond, and the sound of his voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. “Blood is blood,” he says.

Unlocked.

You reach for the handle with shaking fingers. Slowly, you twist it open, heart hammering so hard behind your ribcage you can hear the pulse in your ears.

He’ll kill you if he catches you.

But you have to try. You have to.

Gently, you ease the door open. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” you say, voice a little louder than before.

The wind is cold as it hits your face. The most refreshing breath of fresh air you’ve had in weeks, as it’s been the first that’s belonged to you only.

“Blood is just blood,” you say, stepping over the threshold. “I guess, in the QZ, it always just got washed away so quickly.”

The door creaks when it closes. You’ve memorized that, too. So you leave it open in hopes it gives you a couple of extra minutes before he realizes you’re gone.

“Sorry, Joel,” you say. “I’m sure I’m annoying you. Tommy will be back soon.”

You don’t wait to hear a reply.

The moment you’re out of the cabin, off the porch with your feet on solid ground, you start running and you don’t look back.

It’s been so long since you’ve been granted this much freedom, and in only moments your lungs begin to ache.

Still, even with no true destination in mind, you push your legs as fast as they’ll carry you. The snow crunches beneath your feet and your breath fogs in front of your face, but it’s the best you’ve felt in weeks.

There’s an end to the woods somewhere, right? You needed to get out, to find someplace to hole up in temporarily. Someplace that Joel and Tommy haven’t checked a thousand times over. Someplace far.

Tomorrow, you could make a better plan. For now, away was all that mattered.

You’re not sure how long you’re running before you nearly fall against a tree trunk, rough bark scratching against your sweaty palms. Straining your ears, trying to keep your panting breaths quiet, you listen for footsteps, rustling, any sound of life apart from your own.

And when you hear nothing but the wind in your ears, you let yourself feel it for the first time since setting foot in that cabin.

Hope.

“Don’t you fucking move.”

His voice comes a second before the click of his rifle.

You don’t listen.

This time when you begin running from him, your adrenaline is fueled by much more than trepidation. You’re not running for your freedom, you’re running for your life.

Joel’s heavy footsteps are right behind you, his unheaded warning echoing in your head.

You spare a glance over your shoulder to see that perpetual scowl on his face has turned murderous, deadly.

His pace slows only long enough for him to raise his rifle. The shot reverberates between the trees, and pressure builds behind your eyes as you realize how dangerous this man is.

You’ve known it from the moment you’d seen him, but it suddenly feels much more real. He’s going to kill you.

Another shot.

He’s going to kill you.

You run faster, push your legs harder, warm tears sliding down your cheeks.

But Joel’s much bigger than you. Faster, too. And when he crashes into you, sending you both tumbling to the ground, he presses his knee into the small of your back. Pain shoots up through your spine, down to your toes.

He’s speaking but you can’t hear it, can’t hear anything but the sound of your own cries in your ears. You fight him, even knowing you have no chance, even knowing he’s going to take this opportunity to do what he’s wanted all along.

“Please,” you find yourself saying. “Please, just let me go. I’ll never come back, I’ll never tell anyone where you are.”

He laughs. It’s a sick, maniacal sound that frightens you so much more than anything else ever has. “What makes you think I’d believe a single word that comes out of your mouth?”

You can hear the sound of fabric tearing, and then he’s taking your hands in his and pining them against your back. He ties the scrap of his flannel tight around your wrists, immobilizing you.

Trying to break free of the well-practiced knot is fruitless and you know it, but you try anyway.

His breath is hot against the back of your neck. “Stupid little girl,” he says. “Know that whatever happens now, you did to yourself.”

The fear starts to fade and is replaced with exhaustion. Every muscle in your body aches but it’s your mind that simply can’t take the torment any longer. You let out a slow breath, savoring the way your lungs persistently expand, breathing sweet life into your veins. And when you exhale, you say, “Just do it.”

Joel picks up his rifle.

You close your eyes.

His hand is warm as he wraps it around your arm and pulls you to your feet. “Get up.”

He’s taking you back to the cabin? To make for an easier cleanup, you assume. But if he’s going to kill you, you’re not going to have your life to him on a silver fucking platter.

No. If you have to work for it, then so does he.

You pull out of his grasp. “Do it right here.”

“How about you do as I say.”

“Took you for a lotta things, Joel. But I admit, I didn’t think you were a coward.”

His jaw tenses but he says nothing. Just grabs your arm again, hard enough to bruise, and shoves you in front of him. The metal point of his rifle digs into your spine as he pushes it against you. “Walk.”

“No.”

This time he stabs the rifle into your spine so hard a hiss of pain escapes you. “Walk,” he repeats.

What are you to do? You can’t run, can’t hide, can’t fight him off.

You follow his order with gritted teeth. It isn’t until you’re halfway back to the cabin, adrenaline wilting away, that you realize you’re bleeding.

There’s a clean-cut slice through your right shoulder, crimson dripping slowly down the sleeve of your shirt. “You fucking shot me.”

“You asked me to.”

“No, I asked you to kill me. There’s a big difference.” You narrow your eyes at him, to which he gives nothing in response but that stupid fucking scowl.

The sun is beginning to set, casting him in an orange hue. It silhouettes his profile, accenting the scruff on his chin and that thin scar across his nose. The thought crosses your mind that he’d be really handsome if he wasn’t such an asshole.

“Walk,” he says again, announcing each letter.

“No.”

He shoves the point of his rifle into your ribs this time, knocking you to your knees. But then he waits for you to gain your composure, and says, “Make me repeat myself one more time, and I’ll pull the damn trigger.”

Joel wraps the strap of his rifle around his forearm and pulls you roughly to your feet. You expected him to push you forward again, but this time he wraps an arm around your waist and hauls you off your feet entirely.

“Asshole,” you murmur. You contemplate kicking him but know it’s in your best interest to just stay still. With how angry you’ve made him, you can’t imagine there’d be any saving you. Not unless Tommy’s returned from his hunting trip early.

But when Joel kicks open the cabin door, it’s still empty. Your one saving grace is absent.

“Must be hard,” you say as he shoulders you onto the couch. “Blaming the whole world for your fuck ups.”

His jaw feathers as he clenches his teeth. “Feel free to keep quiet.”

“Bet the two of you have done an awful lot to survive. Know you have, ‘cause I have, too. And you and Tommy have been out here on your own far longer than me. If your first instinct was to kill me, I’m sure I’m not the first wanderer to pass through here. Am I?”

He sets his rifle on the counter and runs his hands through his hair. There’s a light dusting of snow on the ends, melting as the seconds tick by.

“You ever killed a girl before, Joel? Or was I going to be your first?”

The muscles in his body go rigid. He turns to you, eyes narrowed. “Watch your mouth.”

It's his reaction, after so little of them, that lets you know you’re on the right track. Your mouth forms a satisfactory grin, which only seems to incite his anger further. “No,” you say. “I wouldn’t have been the first.”

Joel reaches to his wrist, adjusting the broken watch. “Should’ve killed you on day one,” he says. “Before you got your claws into my brother.”

“Who was it?”

“Put a fuckin’ bullet in your head from fifty yards out. Never should’ve even approached you.”

You tilt your head, trying to adjust the position he’d put you in. Your fingers have gone numb, tied too tightly behind your back. “Heard stories about outbreak day,” you say, voice taking on a manipulatively soft cadence. “People had to kill their loved ones when they got bit. Parents, siblings, children. That what you had to do, Joel?”

He crosses the room in a few short strides and takes your face roughly in his hands. “Shut your mouth.”

So quietly it’s almost silent, you whisper, “Who was she?”

In a last-ditch effort to silence you, he wraps his hand around your neck, crushing your windpipe, but all you can focus on is the way he looks at you. Those dark, haunting eyes. Filled with hunger.

Joel looks at you like he’s starving.

And even though you know it’s wrong, know it’s terrible and vulgar, you can’t shake the ache that settles between your thighs as you realize what exactly it is he wants from you.

He lets you go suddenly, running his hand down his face in exasperation. Joel disappears down the hallway for a moment, and you can hear him rustling around, but you don’t realize what he’s looking for until he returns to the living room with gauze, medical tape, and Tommy’s sacred bottle of Jack.

He pours the alcohol over your wound and every muscle in your body tightens at the pain of it. It’s not deep, just a graze from the bullet, but it’s enough to hurt. “How noble of you to treat the bullet wound you gave me.”

Joel doesn’t respond. He dabs the cut with the gauze, cleaning away both the drying blood and the whiskey.

“Can’t believe you missed,” you say, light laughter laced through the words.

But Joel’s not laughing. Not even a little as he tells you, “I don’t miss.”

It can’t be true. You figure it’s just his bruised ego, which is hypocritical considering you’re the one with your hands tied behind your back being mended while he’s got nothing to show for your near escape but a light sheen of sweat on his brow.

But if it is true…and he doesn’t miss, that means he had no intentions of killing you. Joel had every opportunity and every excuse to. Hell—you’d even asked the man to. Yet still, here you sat, untouched save for a scratch.

You’re not quite sure what to make of it.

Now, it’s you who sits in silence while Joel speaks.

“We did what we had to,” he says. “We found this place, fixed it up. It’s ours. Sometimes people get too close. Try to take what doesn’t belong to them. There’s a price for that these days.”

He stays focused on the task at hand; cleaning your wound, placing clean gauze, and taping it to your skin. “Is that why you’re so angry with me all the time? Because you think I owe you something?”

When he tears what remains of your sleeve away from your shirt, the feel of his hands on your bare, sensitive skin is foreign. Not bad, but different from Tommy’s. “You sleep real good at night. Hardly seems like we’re even.”

Joel’s hands are rough and big. There’s dirt beneath his fingernails and wind chap on his knuckles, a display that does something to you. He’s so rugged, so masculine…

“There are other ways I can repay you,” you tell him. His eyes snap to yours, shrouded in a dark mystery you can’t help but lean towards. “I bet it’s been lonely out here. No one but Tommy to talk to. No one to touch but yourself.”

He says nothing. Turns his attention back to patching you up dutifully. But he doesn’t tell you to stop, doesn’t tell you to shut your mouth, and you take it as a sign.

“I’ve been lonely too, Joel. Before the two of you, I hadn’t spoken to a human in weeks. Do you know what that can do to a person? Makes them desperate.”

You can see his pulse quicken in his throat and begin to wonder why you waited so long to try this tactic. It worked for his brother, it only makes sense it would work for Joel, too. He must be just as wanton, just as deprived.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” you tell him softly. “We can help each other. I can…I can repay you.”

When he’s finished patching you up, you stand awkwardly on your feet, hands still tied behind your back. Joel stares up at you with a heat in his eyes you’ve never seen before.

“Just because you’re used to flashin’ those eyes at Tommy doesn’t mean it’ll work on me. I know what you’ve been up to with him, workin’ him up, usin’ him. I’m not that easy.”

You step forward, stumbling a bit before Joel reaches up to steady you by holding your thighs. His palms are so big and wide, stretching easily over the expansion of your legs.

“I’m not using anyone, Joel. I’m only trying to help you out. I know how much it terrifies you, to get close to someone. To lose them.”

Joel’s palms tighten around your thighs, his dark eyes glaring up at you. “You don’t know me, little girl.”

Your heart thumped in your ribcage so loudly that you were scared Joel might hear it. Joel’s chin is almost tucked in between the middle of your thighs, his rough beard brushing against your denim jeans.

“Then show me, Joel. Show me who you really are.”

“This how you survive for so long? Sleeping with all the men you run across?” Joel questioned, one of his palms running along the inside of your thigh. His touch shouldn’t make you feel like this; ignited, aching unbearably.

“Nope,” you exhaled, “just you and your little brother.”

Joel growls, fingers twitching as they traverse higher, one hand gripping tight to the back of your thigh, keeping you balanced, the other dancing dangerously close to the seam of your jeans. “Fuckin’ brat. I bet you gave your daddy hell, didn’t you?”

His palm moves higher, slightly grazing against the outline of your pussy in your jeans. He sits a little straighter, chin pressed to your navel. When he looks up at you like that, it forces you to acknowledge just how handsome he is. Rugged and strong in a way that enhances his loveliness, shrouded in a magnetism you can’t help but fall victim to.

Joel’s hand on the back of your thigh moves slowly over your waist, around your side to the button of your jeans. You watch with rapt attention as he skillfully undoes it, wasting not a second before he’s parting the metallic teeth of your zipper. “S’a shame Tommy ain’t here to save you now, little girl.”

You watch him, but Joel watches you. His attention warms your cheeks, sets your skin ablaze. He hooks his thumbs into your waistband and tugs both your jeans and panties down in one sure movement.

The force of it has you stumbling forward, falling onto his lap. Not so much as an ounce of shame flashes in his eyes as you situate yourself comfortably, becoming acutely aware of the bulge in his jeans. He knows you can feel it. Knows, too, why that little whine forms in the back of your throat.

He looks so proud of himself, like this has all been a game and suddenly the tides have changed and you’re the one on the losing team.

If only he knew the truth.

“Let me repay you,” you breathe out, grinding yourself against him. The rough denim feels harsh against your too-sensitive skin, yet somehow like relief. “For feeding me.” You shift your hips against him with more pressure this time and his lips part. “For putting clothes on my back.” Again. “For protecting me.”

Joel leans up so quickly it startles you. The look on his face is so devoid of emotion, you’re not sure if he wants to fuck you or kill you. He says, “Should be thanking my brother.”

You can’t help the sinful smirk that tugs at your lips. His words say one thing, but his hands find the swell of your ass and squeeze, pulling your forward, pushing you back, encouraging that sweet friction. Joel’s mouth is an inch from yours, so close you’re sharing the same breath as you tell him, “I owe you both.”

There’s a moment of hesitance. A second where he just stares at you, thoughts you wish he’d speak aloud running through his mind. But then he makes his decision, and he presses his mouth urgently to yours.

Every movement is rushed, hurried as if he worries he may change his mind at any moment. Joel’s lips move against yours, tongue slipping between them, tasting you, drinking you in like a man starved for it.

Despite how desolate he moves against you, he’s strangely affectionate. A perfect balance of coarse and soft, of harsh and tender. Your hips move on their own accord now, the apex of your thighs so wet and slippery you stain the denim beneath you.

He slides his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck, crushing your mouth impossibly closer to his.

“Joel,” you pant, unable to catch your breath. He bucks his hips up against you and it makes you whimper. Again, a little stronger this time. “Joel.”

He stops kissing your swollen lips and starts biting gently at your collarbone instead. He doesn’t say it, but you know this is his way of giving you a chance to speak, to tell him what you need to say.

“My…my hands,” you say. “Please. Please, I won’t do anything. I just want to touch you. I want—oh, God.”

Joel smiles against your skin as he slips his free hand between your legs. You’re sure it pleases him to feel the mess he’s made of you, but you can’t think much of anything past the way the rough pads of his fingers feel as they circle your clit.

He sets a slow but consistent pace, desire steadily racking up higher and higher and higher. You can’t speak, can't breathe, can’t do anything but moan as he creates a bliss like you’ve never known.

This man’s a lot older than you, much more experienced, and it shows. The way he touches you is incomparable to the boys you’d been with back in the QZ, boys who liked you a whole lot more than the man beneath you but somehow knew so much less about how to touch you.

“If I knew playing with this sweet little pussy was the key to getting you to shut up, I’d have done it ages ago,” he says. But there’s no irritation in his voice. Instead, it’s filled with something that sounds a lot like admiration.

You breathe out his name, right on the precipice of an orgasm, when he pulls his hand away. It’s been so long, and you’d been so close, that pressure builds behind your eyes. Your shoulders drop, your head falls forward. “Please,” you say. “Please, Joel—I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I swear, just—!”

“Shh,” he coos, unbuttoning his jeans. “S’enough of that cryin,’ now.” He pulls down his zipper and shoves the denim down just enough to pull himself out. It surprises you, in truth, to see just how big he is.

Yet still, you find yourself lifting on your knees, making it easier for him to slip inside. You ease down onto him and the stretch is somehow both painful and delicious, the low groans Joel makes like music to your ears.

He reaches behind you and pulls at the flannel scrap that binds your hands together, freeing you from restraint. The blood flows back to your fingers, making them tingle. You place both hands on his shoulders and begin to move slowly, experimentally, easily finding a rhythm and an angle that has you hurtling toward euphoria once more.

He’s so big and warm beneath you, cock filling you so full, and you can’t hear anything but the sound of his voice as he begins to murmur such filthy things.

“Told Tommy to leave you alone,” he says. “Told him not to touch you…I can see why he’s been ignorin’ me now. He’s been blinded by all those pretty smiles you give him, all those nice little kisses. But it’s this he wants, ain’t it?”

Joel squeezes your hips tight in his hands, holding you still while he thrusts up into you. This feels impossibly better, his cock nudging the sweetest spot, and your heart hammers in your chest in response. “God, Joel, I—!”

“Wants this tight little pussy,” he continues. “Should be him fuckin’ you good like this, by all rights. But Tommy’s not home, an’ girls like you just need’ta be filled up, huh?” His pace quickens, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the empty cabin. You can feel him throb inside you, holding himself back. “Might be my brother you want, but it’s my cock you’re soakin,’ ain’t it?”

You think if your brain wasn’t scrambled, reduced to mush at the sultry cadence of Joel’s voice, that maybe you would’ve heard the creak of the door being open.

But you don’t, and neither does Joel. Not until Tommy’s voice cuts through the lusty fog. “What the fuck, Joel?! What happened to not fucking her?!”

You reached down to cover yourself, but Joel smacked your palms away, continuing the movement of his hips. “Christ, Tommy. We’re almost finished,” Joel growled, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you in place. His grip tightened the closer he got, exposing his neck to you after throwing his head back.

Tommy’s eyes were burning a hole into the side of your face, and you couldn’t help but look over at him. His brows were knitted together, a deep crease between them. His lips twitched as if he wanted to yell an objection, but he swallowed down the words.

You bat your eyes at Tommy, reaching down to trap your clit in between your nimble fingers. Every time Joel pushed up into you, his cock stretched you in the most perfect way.

Tommy couldn’t pull himself away, actively watching his brother fuck some girl that they’d both been holding hostage. Just the circumstances should’ve had your stomach churning, but instead, you felt another wave of wetness rush against Joel’s cock.

“Oh, God,” you whimpered, watching the way Tommy’s mouth was parted, frozen mid-breath. The muscles in his jaw tightened when he finally watched you orgasm, speared on Joel’s dick. A deep tremble in your thighs had you shaking in Joel’s grip, your entire body jerking at the feeling of Joel continuing to use you for his benefit.

Joel pulls your focus back into him by lightly slapping the side of your face and turning your head to look at his. The strained expression on his face, the veins bulging from his neck, the way his teeth were clenched in frustration showed you just how close he was.

“Bet you’d like it if I filled you up, huh?” Joel asked, not paying any attention to his brother, who was still stupidly watching. “You wouldn’t even be able to stop me. You’d just let me treat you like the little slut you are.”

You nodded your head desperately, trying to push him further and further until he was finally falling. Joel’s lips were parted slightly, stuck momentarily before quickly pulling out of you. Long ropes of his semen splattered across the skin of your thighs, warm and sticky against you.

The muscles in Joel’s face, which were usually tense and solid, suddenly melted into soft, languid lines. It was nice, looking at him for a moment, imagining what he would’ve been like before. Was he a nice man, who worked a usual 9 to 5, minimum wage job to keep the lights on? Or had he always had a darkness inside of him, one that existed before the world ended?

Just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

“Care to give me a goddamn explanation now, or do I have to wait another ten minutes?” Tommy said. Even though he looked incredibly intrigued not even a handful of minutes ago, he was back to the angry demeanor he had upon walking in.

Joel’s eyes watched yours momentarily, his cum drying on your thighs as you watched him back. You thought that you saw a sliver of something on his face; remorse? Tenderness? But it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

Joel stood, his frame towering over yours. He tucked himself back into his jeans as if nothing had changed and explained, “Your little girlfriend made her grand escape while you were gone. Well—tried to, anyway. You should keep a better handle on her, teach her some discipline. ‘Cause next time I have to waste a bullet on her, it won’t be a graze.”

Tommy sputtered, glancing between Joel and you. You were desperately trying to cover yourself now, left grabbing for clothes while both Joel and Tommy stood over you.

“You tried to fuckin’ escape?” Tommy asked, but there was no malice behind his words. Instead, he seemed genuinely disappointed, and for a second, you actually felt bad for letting him down.

You looked over to Joel for help, for something, but his eyes were back to staring through you like you were a ghost. Like he hadn’t just fucked you senseless.

“Come on, go get cleaned up. I’ll deal with you later,” Tommy said, a hand on his hip as he shook his head at you. Why was it that you felt embarrassed for what you had done, your failed attempt at escaping the two men? You were embarrassed for trying to finally be free, yet you didn’t even regret letting Joel push himself inside of you.

“I’m sorry,” you began, standing and covering yourself with your hands. “You both have to understand my position. I know that you’re not bad people, I know that you don’t trust me, but keeping me here isn’t right.”

“I told you that she was just playin’ with your emotions. She doesn’t care about you, she just wants you to let your guard down,” Joel scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest.

You stepped closer to Tommy, needing to get your point across. “I do care about you, Tommy. I know that you’re a good person, just trying to survive. I’ve had to do the same.”

Joel moved towards you, trying to square you off from his brother. “You don’t know us, little girl. Just because you let us get between your legs doesn’t mean that you know either of us.”

Stiffening up, you squared your shoulders and stood as tall as you could. You locked your gaze on Joel’s, not allowing him to have the upper hand in this conversation.

“I’m not Sarah, Joel. You can’t control me, as much as you wish you could.”

The expression on Joel’s face was deadly, and if looks could kill, you would be lying in a pool of blood at his feet. He closes the short distance between you, his teeth clenched and fist balled tight.

“If you ever say her name again, it’ll be the last thing you say,” he hissed, his fist wavering by his side. “Do you understand?”

As much as you wanted to spout something back at him, you knew better. If you kept pushing him and pushing him, he would eventually bite you right back.

“Fine,” you spat, turning your head away from Joel. It made no sense, he had just given you the best orgasm of your life, but now you wanted to fucking kill him. You understood what it was like to lose someone, to have scars so deep that they never fully healed. It could turn you into a monster. Joel, unfortunately, had succumbed to the latter.

“Deal with your fuckin’ girlfriend. I need some air,” Joel said, grabbing his rifle before walking out of the cabin. The air in the cabin was still tense with the heat of Tommy’s eyes burning through you.

“I fucked up, Tommy, I know. I’m so sorry,” you begged. His mouth was a hard, narrow line, clearly trying to keep his fury at bay.

“The one thing I asked, the one thing, and you couldn’t do it.”

He scoffed, glancing down at your still half-naked body. “And then you tried to run away, brought up Sarah, and slept with him? Christ, what a fuckin’ mess.”

Tommy couldn’t even bring himself to look at you, and it made the pit in your stomach sink a few more inches down.

“I’m sorry Tommy. I care about both of you,” you tried to explain, but Tommy just shook his head.

“Go wash up. Should have some water in the tub,” Tommy said, dismissing you. You paused, hesitating to leave the conversation. You hadn’t gotten any resolution - it wasn’t fair. Joel and Tommy couldn’t just expect you not to retaliate.

Talking to Tommy wasn’t going to resolve anything. You’d have to gain their trust back again, slowly, and you would be lucky if you even got it back through just time. No, you would have to prove it to them.

Time passed since then. It was getting towards the end of winter, the snow less harsh and cold a little more bearable. With the way things were going, winter would be finished in just a few weeks. With winter being over, you could survive on your own again, you could take the risk to escape.

You just needed one distraction. Anything.

You did everything you could to regain Joel and Tommy’s trust. Preparing dinner, tagging along for any wood gathering; you had even cleaned the house when Joel complained about the dust lining the kitchen cabinets.

When Joel had returned home from patrolling the perimeter, the look of surprise to see a spotless cabin made you bite back your smile. Even though he didn’t say thank you, he gave you a bit more of his food in a silent reward.

He had even gone out of his way to search the basement for tampons for you after he heard you complaining to Tommy about it. Joel acted like he hated you, but something made him sleep with you. Something was there.

Though Tommy still didn’t let himself grow incredibly close to you, things did get somewhat better. He allowed you to spend time taking watch with him some nights, spending the night talking about whatever came to your mind first. Whether it be “What would be your dream job” or “if you could time travel, would you go to the past or the future” - the conversation always felt easy with Tommy.

It felt like he was trying so hard to not trust you, but the moment he sat down with you, he talked to you like an old friend. Maybe it was because he had been tied to Joel for so long, years of the same conversations over and over again. You were new to him, a new presence to absorb. You understood why it was so easy for Tommy to fall into old habits.

You were sitting up with Tommy when it happened. Joel was asleep in the bed, and you didn’t have it in you to lay with him. Sometimes you shared the bed with Tommy, and Joel would take the couch, but you had never laid with Joel. After what had happened, the intimacy you shared with him - sharing a full-sized mattress would feel like a prison sentence.

So, you stayed up on watch with Tommy while Joel slept. He had passed you the bottle of Jack one too many times, and you were buzzing a little bit in your seat.

“I hope the snow lets up before I gotta go out and do my rounds. I’m gonna end up freezin’ my dick off,” Tommy groaned, stretched out on the couch. The light from the lantern lit up the small space, casting shadows over Tommy’s face.

He was a handsome man, you had to admit that. Just like his brother, who was softly snoring a couple of meters away.

“You better make it quick. I’m not going out there to find your dick if it falls off,” you said back, making Tommy snort in amusement.

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that. Probably wouldn’t even give it back to me,” he said. His legs were stretched out, his knee pressing into the meat of your thigh. Tommy’s warmth comforted you, as much as it probably shouldn’t have.

“You’re sick,” you said back, trying to get a laugh out of Tommy, but he was suddenly shockingly serious. His eyes widened as he straightened up in his seat, hand reaching down to the revolver at his side.

You followed his eyes, turning your head until you finally saw it. Three people standing in the tight hallway, directly in front of Joel’s room. They must’ve snuck in from the cellar since you didn’t hear the sound of the window breaking.

Tommy’s hand lifts quickly, aiming the gun at the group. His free palm pulls at your arm, standing up to tug you behind him. He uses his back to shield you from the group. He’s protecting you.

“Y’all don’t have any business bein’ in here. I’d suggest you go back out the way you came from,” Tommy spoke, loudly, as if to wake Joel. They were blocking the door so neither of you could see if he was still asleep in the bed.

The group was made up of two men and a woman. They almost mirrored you, a short woman with two hulking men surrounding her. The way that they were dressed revealed that they were raiders, with one of the men wearing a necklace of teeth. A hum started buzzing through your brain at the situation - this was bad.

“Seems like it’s quite cozy in here. You wouldn’t believe how bad it’s snowing outside. You should let us stay,” the woman spoke, grinning up at Tommy. Her smile was sinister, laced with wickedness.

Tommy stiffened up, cocking his revolver before raising the gun directly at the woman. “I won’t ask again.”

Before anyone could even react, a gunshot rang out. The man with the teeth necklace had a bullet rush through his brain, gasping before dropping down to his knees.

“Johnny!” the woman shrieked, her other male partner swinging around to see where the shot came from. They finally parted from the front of the bedroom door, revealing Joel aiming his own rifle at the group.

The lantern that was sitting in the living room barely cast enough light to even see Joel, but you were able to see enough. He looked deadly, like death himself. You hadn’t seen him like this before; even with you, he had never come off that furious.

The man who was still standing lunged at Joel while he was attempting to reload, both men fighting over the gun.

Tommy spun to you, cradling the side of your face. “Stay back. We got it, okay?”

He turned back, approaching the woman who just unsheathed a machete. As soon as she lunged at Tommy, you heard the flash of a gunshot light up the room. The bullet swished past your face, a hair length away from touching your skin. You could feel the heat of the bullet.

“Fuckin’ bastard,” you heard Joel shout, jumping onto the man to rip his rifle out of his hands. Tommy had wrestled the machete out of the woman’s hands, but his own gun was a couple of meters away, tucked under the table in the corner of the room.

A loud clatter from the bedroom showed Joel and the man wrestling around on the ground, the rifle long forgotten about. The brothers were fighting for their lives, it was no longer up for debate.

You have to do something. You glanced over at the front door, unblocked and easy to access. You could leave. You could run out into the snow and run for your life, and let these two groups fight to the death.

It would be easy. Your jacket was right at the door, you could grab it on the way out. It could work.

But then you looked over at Joel, who was straddling the intruder. His biceps were bulging from how hard he was choking him, muscles flexing in the excitement of the kill.

Moving your frantic eyes back over to Tommy, you saw the woman lay a rough punch to the side of Tommy’s jaw. His head snapped to the side with a sickening crack that made her cackle in pleasure. Tommy was momentarily disoriented, which the woman took advantage of.

She turned to lunge at the machete while also ripping her own gun out and aiming it at Joel in an attempt to save her friend. You found yourself jumping on top of her before you could even throw one last look at the front door. She hadn’t even reached the machete yet, thank god, but you still had to rip the gun out of her hands so she wouldn’t be able to shoot Joel.

“Little bitch,” the woman hissed when you slipped your hands around her neck. She clawed at your palms, your wrists, leaving jagged nail marks embedded into your skin.

Your ears were ringing, your face hot and pulsing. It had been so long since you had killed anyone, it felt simply barbaric. To watch the life slowly drain from her eyes, empty and gray.

“P-please,” she gasped, punching her fists softly against your chest. Your head was pulled back high, glaring down at her without an ounce of remorse on your face. She had tried to rob you, to hurt Tommy, to hurt Joel. She deserves this.

After a couple more tight grips of your palms, she stopped struggling beneath you. Heavy, breathy gasps left your throat while a low gurgling sound left hers. The sound of death was never a comforting one, but you found yourself unable to release her throat. Long after she had taken her last breath, you still found yourself strangling her, your knuckles white from the pressure.

“Hey… kiddo,” graveled Joel from behind you. He pressed his palm against your shoulder, his hand heavy and distracting. You stop, glancing up around the room. All three of the intruders were now lifeless, lying haphazardly around the cabin. Thank god that there wasn’t too much blood.

“It’s over,” Joel whispered, rubbing his palm in circles against your shoulder. “Let her go.”

You didn’t even feel yourself release your iron grip - instead, you watched, like you were in an out-of-body experience.

Tommy’s hand is warm on the small of your back. He gently pulls you away from the woman, her body still warm under your palms. He holds you into his grip, trying to make you meet his eyes as he speaks. “Hey,” he says, voice filled with tenderness. “It’s okay. It was her or us, alright?”

He’s speaking to you as if you’re fragile, as if you’ll break. But your hands don’t shake, and even though her eyes are open and watching you lifelessly, you don’t feel any regret. Tommy’s warmth seeps beneath your skin as he attempts to comfort you, but it’s Joel who you look to for answers. “I did what I had to,” you say. “Right?”

Joel nods, eyes full of certainty. “You did what you had to.”

Tommy and Joel took care of the bodies, even leaving you alone while they did it. Killing her had gained their trust. She was the key.

But still, you didn’t leave while they were gone. You couldn’t bring yourself to. So, when they returned, they comforted you and allowed you the have the entire bed to yourself.

“Won’t be able to sleep now anyways,” Joel muttered.

You move through the next day in a thick fog. You’ve seen death your whole life, and have done your fair share of bloody deeds. But for some reason, this feels different. Weighted. Like maybe fleeing when the opportunity presented itself instead of killing them will have lasting effects.

When Tommy suggests that you get some rest early in the evening, you agree with him. He sees you safely to the bed, pulls the blankets over you, and urges you to sleep.

But you don’t, of course. And when the door creaks open again, Joel’s heavy footsteps enter the room. The mattress bows beneath his weight as he sits beside you. “What you…” He stops. Reaches up to squeeze the scruff along his jaw. “What you did today…I know it’s not easy. But…I want you to know, too that it’s…that I appreciate it. You saved Tommy. Saved me. So…you know. Thank you.”

Though you’re unsure what exactly possessed you to do it, you find Joel’s hand in the dark and slide your fingers through his. His grip is strong and his palm calloused, but there’s a gentleness in the way he cradles your small hand in his that surprises you. The urge rises in you to ask him again, to hear those reassuring words that the decision you made in killing someone with your bare hands was the correct one.

But you already know the answer he’ll give, because your brutality means he gets to see another day. What you don’t know, however, is why he leans over and softly presses a kiss to your forehead. You don’t know why it ignites a fire in your chest, either. Something akin to desire but not quite.

“Dinner’s ready,” he says. “Tommy fixed you a plate.”

And for the first time, it’s a dinner without the weight of Joel’s glare from across the table. His stare is now filled with something different, something that feels a whole lot like adoration. Like he was truly grateful for what you did.

You help Tommy with the dishes, and when you tell him you’re ready for bed he wraps an arm around your shoulders and promises to fend off nightmares, promises you only good dreams.

But you realize as he wraps himself around you, smothering you in the masculine, pine scent of him, that it’s not just good dreams you want.

You want him.

Tommy leads you back to the bedroom, and on the way you pass the bloodstain on the floorboards. A stark reminder of what had happened, of what you’d done for them.

For both of them.

You can feel Tommy’s gaze on the side of your face as the two of you linger in the doorway of the bedroom. Joel sits on the couch, whittling knife in hand, permanent crease between his brows. He’s so handsome, so dark and brooding and mysterious in a way that keeps you on your toes, a way that draws you in like a moth to a flame.

It isn’t just Tommy you want. When you look back at him, you think the yearning must be written on your face.

Because he doesn’t even ask the question, doesn’t even seem surprised by it. Tommy just nods once and says, “Go on, then. Ask him.”

You swallow, taking a deep breath to prepare yourself for what is about to happen. For what you wanted to happen.

“Joel?”

He raises his head to look up at you. There’s a moment of hesitation as he stares down your outstretched hand that reaches for him, but then he’s setting his knife down on the table and wrapping his calloused palm around your fingers instead.

Tommy crawls into the bed and lifts the blanket for you, a beacon of warmth, of familiarity, of kindness. You melt against him, and it feels good, but when Joel toes off his boots and you can feel him at your back it’s different. Better than good. It’s…perfect. Satisfying. Wedged between them, a soft center to all their strength, you wonder how this sick desire that rumbles low in your belly has managed to go undetected for so long.

You turn between them, facing Joel instead. Tommy’s hands find your waist, dipping beneath your shirt, the tips of his fingers brushing against the bare skin just above the hem of your jeans. Joel’s eyes are heated and intense, drinking you in, swallowing you whole.

He brushes a stray piece of your hair behind your ear at the same time that Tommy’s hand dips beneath your waistband.

Silently, you wonder if they can hear the way your heart beats behind your ribcage. A loud, incessant hum that reverberates in your ears.

Tommy’s hand sinks lower, wriggling in the small space between your skin and the denim. He slides his fingers gently over your clit, and when your lips part in a gasp Joel traces over your mouth with his thumb. You can feel Tommy at your back, cock hardening as he presses it against your ass. He kisses your shoulder over the fabric of your shirt and says, “Wet already, filthy little girl.”

There’s no sense in denying it. No sense in fighting it off, not when your desire has overcome all sense, drowned out by nothing other than the aching need for them. For both of them.

Joel slips the pad of his thumb into your mouth, rubbing it against the tip of your tongue. “Suck it. Put that mouth to good use.” You nod, obeying his command before hollowing out your cheeks to suck on his thumb. You whimper around it at the feeling of Tommy’s middle finger rubbing tight circles into your clit. His pointer finger spreads your folds, working at the wetness pooling in your panties.

“You always get this wet?” Tommy asked, finally pushing his finger into your throbbing heat. You gasp, looking up at Joel through a hazy gaze, watching the dark expression on his face. “Or is it just because of us?”

You nod your head, rocking your hips against Tommy’s palm. “Fuck, yes,” you moan into Joel’s thumb, not even properly answering the question but neither of them seem to mind. Tommy’s finger still works through your pussy, curling around in your tight, wet heat.

“Playin’ with her pussy shuts her up quick. We should've done it together weeks ago,” Joel teases before reaching down to unbuckle his pants. The sound of the metal belt clanging and his zipper being pulled down makes you shudder into Tommy’s body.

Should you feel guilty for how much you enjoy this? Feeling worshipped? Feeling wanted. For so long you had drifted, never truly having a place. After the death of your father, it was solidified, that you weren’t important to anyone. Nobody had come to your defense, nobody had tried to protect you.

But Joel did, and so did Tommy. And even though the situation was a little fucked up, you couldn’t help the way your hips stuttered when Joel pressed his cock against your lips. Without hesitating, you wrapped your tight mouth around his girthy length, humming pleasure at the feeling of his dick stretching out your throat.

“You belong to us, don’t you?” Tommy asked, playing with your clit as he continued to finger you. The combined sound of Tommy’s fingers slamming into your cunt and your mouth sucking Joel off had your head spinning. It was overstimulation of the best kind, Tommy’s cock hard and chasing relief by rutting into your ass.

You nodded, watering eyes still glued to Joel’s face. The look of pure pleasure on his face was enough to tip you closer to the edge, a ragged whimper moaned into Joel’s cock. His neck was flushed, knuckles white, and clenched into a fist. It was empowering, having this big, brooding man at your mercy.

They’re both so stubborn and strong but for you, they break. It’s this thought, combined with the fullness in your mouth and the feel of Tommy’s fingers working between your thighs that sends you reeling, an orgasm wrenching through you mercilessly.

Within seconds, before you even get a chance to come down from the height of it, Tommy’s dragging your jeans down your legs and unbuttoning his own. “S’only fair I get you first, sweetheart,” he says. He wraps his hand around your knee and drapes your thigh over his hip, positioning himself behind you.

And you want him, you do, but every nerve ending flares on edge. Every inch of your skin feels too sensitive, too tender. You pull your head back, making just enough room in your mouth to mutter around Joel’s cock, “Tommy, slow down, wait-”

“Nah, baby,” he says. “Wanna show you what you’ve been missin’. Waited too fuckin’ long to spread these legs of yours to wait anymore.” And then he’s pushing into you, the sticky remnants of your orgasm smoothing out any resistance he encounters.

Joel takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, a strangely gentle touch, and says softly, “Mouth open, little girl.”

You look only at Joel as Tommy grips your hip and begins to rock slowly into you, breath hitching in your throat as the head of his cock nudges against the deepest parts of you. You part your lips, and Joel slides himself back into your mouth, down your throat.

Tommy’s heat behind you blankets you in a sweet warmth, and despite his eagerness, you’re delighted to hear the groans that leave his mouth. You like that this is making him happy, you like that you’re making him feel good. “So tight,” he murmurs against your shoulder. “Always knew this pussy would be good. From the moment I saw you, baby, I knew it. Can feel her squeezin’ me, wanna feel how wet she gets when I make her cum a second time.”

The thought of it makes you whimper around Joel’s cock. He laughs, thumb stroking lightly over your cheekbone. “Think she’d like that, Tommy,” he says.

It’s so strange to see him like this. Scowling, uptight Joel-soft and delicate as he cherishes you, as he worships you as if you’re something holy. As if killing for him has altered his brain chemistry, flipped a switch, and made him see you in a brand new light.

Joel reaches between your legs and presses the tip of his middle finger against your clit. It aches beneath his touch, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. “Wouldn’t you? Hm?”

You can’t speak, but you moan around his cock and hollow out your cheeks, sucking him harder. A flush creeps up Joel’s neck and he lets out a low groan in response.

Tommy thrusts his cock into you at a steady pace, pawing at your hip. You clench your walls around him and his rhythm falters. “Oh, she likes that, Joel,” he says. “S’that feel good, baby?”

It’s all too much-the filthy words, the pressure on your clit, the fullness in your belly, the ache that settles in your jaw. And then there’s the way Joel looks at you, and before you realize it you’re shuddering, your second orgasm ripping apart what remains of your defenses.

You may have stolen from them but the two brothers have stolen from you, too. Stolen connection and fondness and sentiment—things you’d sworn off long ago.

But as Joel strokes your clit sloppily, attention faltering as he chases his release with you, how can you keep yourself from feeling something for him? How can you see this big, brooding man become delicate for you only, and keep yourself from the edge of devotion?

“Yeah, there you go,” Tommy whispers. “Cum for us. Soakin’ my fuckin’ cock, little girl. That’s it. That’s it, baby.”

Joel’s release is salty as it hits the back of your tongue, but you swallow it down, taking him into your mouth as far as you can.

“Goddamn,” he hisses, and it’s like music to your ears. A crude praise. His hands tremble as he slowly descends, that permanent crease between his brows finally smoothing over.

Tommy’s hips stutter. You reach your hand back and thread your fingers through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp. His grunts fill the room and you can feel his cock as it twitches inside you. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.”

You don’t register the fact that he already is until it’s too late, until the stickiness spills out of you, coating the inside of your thighs. There’s so much, and you’d be angry about it if it didn’t make your skin ignite with desire, another fresh wave of arousal.

Because as stupid as it is, as irresponsible as it is for him to cum inside you, you like that for once, he didn’t ask—he just takes. As if you belong to him, as if you always have.

He sighs contentedly, and slowly pulls himself out of you. “Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had, sweetheart,” he says, falling back against the pillows.

Joel tucks himself back into his jeans and crawls onto the mattress beside you, stroking your hair as you lay your head on his chest. You can hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a soothing beat.

“Which was the best dick, little girl?” There’s a little bit of amusement in Tommy’s tone as he asks it. “Which brother was better?”

Joel leans up just enough to scowl at Tommy. “That’s enough,” he says firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Let it go.”

Tommy laughs, and you fight off the smile that threatens to form on your face as the three of you settle back into the sheets. “Alright, fine,” he says. “Joel, you take watch. I’m exhausted.”

Within moments, Tommy’s soft snores fill the room. You lay there in silence, your head on Joel’s chest, for so long you think he may have fallen asleep, too. But after some time, his chest rises as he inhales a deep breath.

He says, “I always plan for the worst. Don’t like surprises. But…I’ll admit, I didn’t plan for you. Kinda blindsided me.”

Joel’s words blindside you. This had always been the plan, to gain their trust just enough to escape, to be successful your second time around. But you’re not sure why it hurts, or why his dance around an admission makes your chest pull tight. But maybe you’re taking it out of context, maybe you're assuming too much. “What do you mean?”

For a moment he just stares at you, eyes roaming over every minute detail of your face, pupils blown wide. Finally, he says, “Nothin.’ I’ll explain another time.” And before you can change his mind, he’s shifting out from under you and lacing up his boots. “I’ll go and do the rounds. Get some rest, alright?”

Joel glances down at you, his eyes still full of contemplation and something else that you couldn’t quite read. He leaned down quickly, pressing a heavy kiss against your lips, taking your breath away. The rough hair of his beard scratched your face in the most delicious way, but the kiss also felt heavy. Like Joel had something on his mind but could only bring himself to express it by tasting your tongue.

His forehead pressed against your own momentarily before he raised back up. Joel’s large palm held your face gently, his touch completely different from the Joel you’d known so far. The man who had shot you, who had fucked you into submission. You knew that there was something in him that was soft and malleable. You had finally found it.

“Sleep,” Joel said, pulling his fingers away from your face. The tips of his fingers left goosebumps in their trace, and you felt the weight of the situation set in. This was it. The moment Joel left to do his regular route, you could go the opposite way. Joel’s route was one that you had memorized because you went on the same one with Tommy. It would be easy to avoid him. It would be easy to leave.

Joel left the room quietly, cracking the door closed behind him. It only took him a couple of minutes to shrug on his jacket, grab his rifle, and head out of the front door. If you timed it right, in ten minutes he should reach the east corner of the cabin’s perimeter, which would give you enough time to leave before he is even near the cabin.

Sitting up slowly, you glanced over at Tommy, who was still softly snoring. You slide off of the bed, rifling through the side drawer to grab Tommy’s pocket knife. Quietly, you go through one of the unused canvas bags, pilling up the same supplies you had stolen so long ago. Food, ammo, batteries - anything that could help you survive on your own.

You stood at the doorway of the bedroom, watching the lantern light wash across Tommy’s face. After being with him for so long, it hurt to walk away. Even though it was a sticky situation, quite literally, you still found yourself caring for the brothers.

‘Goodbye, Tommy,’ you thought to yourself before leaving the bedroom. Striding across the living room, you could feel your heart thump in your throat at the sweet taste of freedom. You grabbed Joel’s spare jacket, tugging it over your shoulders.

This is it. You don’t have to stay here.

You remembered the feeling of Joel’s lips on your lips, the way Tommy rutted against your hips. The feeling of being wanted. The feeling of being protected.

You were scared to leave. But you had to.

The snow crunched under your feet when you walked out of the cabin’s front door. It was late in the night, the air crisp and heavy in your lungs. You saw your feet running before you actually processed that you were sprinting through the woods. The more you ran, the deeper the snow got, the icy slush melting into the bottom of your jeans.

You didn’t run into Joel, or Tommy, or anyone else for that matter. You couldn’t remember how long you ran for, or how far you had gotten, but your legs continued to stomp into the wet ground beneath your feet. The heat from the morning sun warming up your face was enough to let you know that you were finally free.

[werewolves-are-real]

I have a title and I am not even SLIGHTLY joking when I say titles are my primary impediment to posting. So hopefully I'll at least have the 1st chapter of my Granby/Laurence fic up soon

*Yet again considers posting the 1st chapter of a Temeraire fic*

*Yet again remembers I still need a title*

Ah well I should probably write more first anyway 💀

[thirstworldproblemss]

Fic: Closer

cowritten with @astroboots

Fandom:  Moon Knight Pairing:  Jake Lockley x F reader (x Steven, x Marc) Length:  5.6k words Rating: Explicit 🔞 Warnings:  This fic contains explicit sexual content including dirty talk, spitting, anal play, and anal sex. (That's it. That's the fic.)

Summary: Jake checks an item off his bucket list, and you both thoroughly enjoy yourselves.

Notes: Many thanks to @guruan who fixed our my extremely questionable Spanish (any remaining mistakes are entirely my fault) and whose deliciously debauched art is a never-ending source of inspiration. More thanks (and uh... oh god, sorry 🙈) to the poor anon who submitted the prompt that spawned this to Cici last Kinktober and had to wait a whole year to see the damn thing. And, of course, ALL my love to my darling cowriter and 🤡💖🤡 sister, @astroboots, who always makes writing a joy, and without whom this never would have been started, finished, or posted at all.

[ twp’s Masterlist  | boots' Masterlist  ]

Jake hasn’t spent a lot of time in the driver’s seat over the years. For a long time he only fronted on rare occasions. Life or death situations mostly. Those hair-trigger moments when the body is in critical danger and a moment’s hesitation is all it’d take for all three of them to wind up dead. 

Those times when things are too much for Marc or Steven to be able to handle? That’s when it’s Jake’s turn at the wheel. 

It’s why normally the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, in command of the body, is the source of imminent danger: 

The face of the man who has a knife pressed against the collar of his military uniform in the middle of a desert. 

A panoramic view through the windshield of a truck that is seconds from veering off a winding cliff-side road. 

A long-haired Jim Jones wannabe staring down at him along a glowing walking stick protruding from his own chest. 

But things have been different lately. For one thing, he’s been spending a lot more time fronting, and not just in dangerous situations. 

For another, he’s learning that there’s so much more world out there than he’d ever imagined. There’s Ben & Jerry’s peanut popcorn flavored ice cream, Saturday karaoke nights, Derby Girls and you. 

Always you.

You were just Steven’s girl first, and then somehow against all odds Marc got involved too, and now that Jake’s been allowed a taste, he's never letting you go. You’re his guide to the wide world,  the road map keeping him on the right route, the safe resting place when he’s tired. Su alma, his soul.

And right now you look exhausted. Your thighs shaky and trembling, matted hair glued to your forehead, all of you dripping with sweat and other things. Steven must have really worn you out before he ceded the front. 

Sweet, shy little Steven—Mr. Sunshine—who just fucked you seemingly within an inch of your life before he remembered that he needs to share. 

And Marc thinks Jake is the unhinged one. 

The punch of adrenaline that always comes with fronting is still running through his veins, and he’s already hardening at the sight of you on your stomach, ass up in the air on display for him, Steven’s come just beginning to drip out of you. It doesn’t matter that the body just came, it’s Jake’s turn now. 

He slides his rapidly stiffening cock through your slippery folds, nudging the head against your clit, you and him both slick and sloppy with Steven's come and your own wetness.

“Aaah – Jake,” you gasp sharply into the pillow.

You know it’s him. He doesn’t know how. You haven’t even turned around to look at him, but somehow you just know. You always know. It’s an uncanny magic trick that impresses the hell out of him every time.

Jake grips one side of your ass in his free hand, squeezing hard. You’re all smooth skin and soft flesh under his finger, your cute little asshole peeking up at him. You’d kill him if he’d called it that out loud. So he doesn’t. He bites his tongue, swallowing down the groan that’s simmering in his throat at the sight of you.  

He can't resist sliding his thumb over that little pucker. He barely even brushes over you when you let out a pretty gasp for him. His cock is fully hard now, and it jerks against you at the sound, so he does it again, just to see if you’ll make the same noise twice. You do. 

Then you moan, sharp and keen, and he has to pull back, hand sliding over his slick length once before he leans in and replaces his thumb with the head of his cock. Taking his time, he slides it along the curve of your ass before nestling himself snugly between your cheeks. He makes an absolute mess as he goes, smearing the shiny slick left by Steven all over your bare skin until everything is a glistening sheen under the dim light as he begins to thrust forward, sliding his cock between the valley of your cheeks. 

Jake's dreamed of taking you here. He wants to take every fucking hole you have, fill you up and cover you with his come until it's dripping off of–out of every inch of your body.

Mierda. Even just the thought of it has heat climbing his spine, and his cock jerks in his fist and spitting even more precome into the mess already covering your spine and the rounded curves of your ass. 

He thrusts against you again, fucking himself between your cheeks, and you mewl quietly, pressing back against him. Maybe he won’t even fuck your pussy this time. Maybe he’ll just stay right here and rub his cock on your gorgeous ass until he comes all over it. Add to Steven’s mess with one of his own. He’ll do it. And reach around and rub your clit so you come too.

Maybe if he can get you used to the idea of his cock rubbing against your ass, maybe one day you’ll let him put it inside too. 

"You can, you know," you mumble out into the pillows, and Jake freezes, heat streaking down to his balls, and he has to grip himself hard at the base to avoid painting your ass with his come right then and there. 

Shit, did he say that out loud? He’s pretty sure he didn’t. He must have heard you wrong. Or he misunderstood. You can't possibly be offering what he thinks you are. 

"You can try putting it in. I might ask you to stop if I don't like it, but..." you your knees slightly, and the move has your ass practically wiggling at him in temptation, "It feels good right now."

Jake's brain stalls out. His body flashes hot all over. The back of his neck is tingling. He squeezes the base of his cock so hard he thinks he might be in danger of doing permanent damage, but he'll be damned if he comes on your ass right now when he’s just been told he might get to come in it. 

Gritting his teeth, Jake breathes through his body’s urge to come, pushing down the near-overwhelming need to shove his cock into your tight little asshole immediately. He knows he has to prep you if there's going to be any chance of you enjoying this, and he needs you to enjoy it because he wants to be able to do it again (and again and again and...) 

Shit. He needs to get on with it, or he's going to finish before he even makes it inside.

Jake makes himself let go of his aching cock, leaves it bobbing and dripping in midair, and turns his focus on you.

Leaning closer, he uses both hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, and just looks at you for a minute, watching your body clench around nothing.

"You want me to fuck you here, sweetheart?" he demands, sticky thumb sliding down through the mess of your slick and Steven’s come to circle your puckered hole, almost but not quite touching it, "Gonna let me put my cock inside this tight little hole and fill it up with my come?"

You whine, your whole body shivering under him, and he grins, satisfaction buzzing in his veins when your hips cant further up, trying to get him to touch you.

It’s fucking adorable is what it is. He is starting to understand why Marc likes to edge you now. How could he not? You’re always so reactive and needy when you’re denied. You make it so fun to tease. 

Sliding his thumb down, he slicks it around and around, just to watch you whine and shiver and shift, hips chasing his touch. His dick jerks with every noise you make and every time your body visibly clenches.

As fun as this is, a bright delight humming in his chest at your every little reaction, Jake doesn’t have the patience to tease you for long. 

He’s not like Marc. El Jefe seems to have infinite patience when it comes to this, but it’s only a minute or two before Jake can’t wait any longer. He feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin if he doesn’t get inside you one way or another. So he stops, holding his hand still to let you “catch” him.

When you do, he sucks in harsh breath, heat punching through him as he watches you rub yourself against his thumb, heart rate spiking as you lean back, the tip of his thumb pushing inside just a little.

It's barely anything, but the feeling of you parting to let his his thumb slips inside, then squeezing him back out is addictive. He presses harder, wanting more. His thumb slides a bare inch inside, and his groan barely covers the strangled sound you make, body tensing under him. 

Sweat breaks out on his forehead along with the realization that he cannot fuck this up. 

"Alright, mi alma?" he asks, trying to sound sweet and gentle, but his voice, low and eager, betrays him. A starving wolf in a sloppy sheep disguise. He’s not fooling anyone, not himself and certainly not you. 

Reigning himself in as best as he can, his fingers close into a fist with tight tension blaring in every nerve. Then he unfurls his palm to pet his hand over your back and down your side to give your ass a gentle squeeze. 

“Do you  need me to stop?" 

"N-no," comes the shaky answer, and Jake thanks any gods who might be listening, "It feels a bit odd, but..." you squeeze around his thumb, hot and unbelievably tight, and Jake swears under his breath, "It’s a good odd, I think. Just– just give me a moment."

You shift slightly, clenching again, and his cock jerks and throbs like the nerves of his thumb have somehow been reattached directly to his aching length. He really fucking doesn’t want to come before he even gets inside you, but right now he’s not sure if that’s in the cards for him.

Then you push back against him, and his thumb slides in another half inch, and both of you gasp. He pulls out slightly and risks a small thrust back inside. He's rewarded by another gasp and a small moan, so he does it again, a little further this time, and this time the moan is louder.

Fuck, you look so good like this, ass all slick and slippery. Before he even knows what he’s doing, Jake leans forward, spitting onto the curve of your ass right above where his thumb is inside you. 

You jerk when it lands on your skin, and he likes that. Likes that even though he’s done it before it always seems to take you by surprise. Likes how his spit  looks on your skin too, shiny and slick as it slides down the crack of your ass to join the rest of the mess he’s smeared there. Likes that when he pushes it into your tight little asshole, it’s one more way that he can be inside you, make you a little bit more his in a way that will linger after he’s no longer with you.

You whine as he pulls his thumb all the way out, he spits again, hitting his target, directly on your pretty little asshole, then he presses in again, shoving more of his spit into you.

Like most things when it comes to how he feels about you, Jake doesn’t entirely understand why he likes this so much. It’s primal, somehow, a deep-seated need to mark you with himself–his spit, his scent, his come.

His cock is aching, throbbing in time with the way you clench every time he pushes his thumb into you. Jake can't stand it, has to wrap his free hand around himself, gripping as hard as he dares, and stroking slowly. He grits his teeth against how good it feels, red hot pleasure searing up his spine as he leans in to slide the head of his overwrought, leaking cock along your ass, right next to where his thumb is shoved inside. 

"You feel how hard you make me?" he demands, pressing himself against you, relishing the way you shift and moan again, body still squeezing around his thumb, but loosening with every passing moment as you relax. It also has the added benefit of his precome dripping down to lubricate things even more as he thrusts into you a little deeper each time. "Fuck, I can't wait to get inside this tight little hole. You gonna let me in, mi alma?"

"Yes, yes, Jake! Please!" you cry out, only partially muffled where your face is pressed into the pillows, and he damn near loses it again. Has to press his cock against you hard, almost to the point of pain as fire licks out along his nerves, threatening to send him over the edge.

"You want this cock in your ass right now?" he grits out, vaguely aware that he should probably spend more time prepping you, stretching you so you can take him easier, but he can't wait another fucking second.

He pulls back, pulls his thumb out, and you whine out his name Jake, Jake, Jake as you push your ass up and back, chasing his touch.

He looks down to see a blur of movement between your legs, and realizes that at some point you shoved a hand underneath yourself to rub at your clit.

It’s pure impulse. He doesn’t think. Before he even realizes what he's about to do, Jake’s hand flashes out, coming down on your ass with a sharp crack that sends your flesh jiggling in an all-too-appealing way. 

You cry out, sharp and high-pitched, but Jake knows from experience that it's a cry of shock, not of pain, and he quickly follows up on his advantage.

"Naughty naughty, sweetheart,” he scolds, “Who said you could touch yourself?" 

You freeze, obviously caught, and several seconds tick by where he watches approvingly as the mark left on your supple skin from the impact of his hand shades into a darker hue before you whine again, "Please, Jake. I need– I need–"

That's more like it. 

"Pobrecita," he croons to you, enjoying the way you relax at his gentle tone, "Do you need more?"

You nod into the pillow.

He leans in and smacks his cock against the same place his hand struck. You jolt, letting out the hottest fucking sound, so he does it again, and has to grit his teeth against the noise that wants to escape him at the sensation.

"You want this cock, mi alma?" he demands, voice harsh,  "You want me fuck your ass with it right now?"

"Yes. Yes, Jake. Fuck, please. YES!" you pant out, sounding as desperate as he feels. You’re pressing back against him, hips shifting so you can press that pretty little hole right against the tip of him, acting for all the world like you're going to fuck yourself back onto his cock if he doesn't give it to you fast enough.

It's a heady feeling, to hear you beg for him, and part of him wants to hear you do it again, and again and again. To leave you there, begging for him as you struggle to fuck yourself on him. Lucky for you, he is nothing like Marc. 

"All you had to do was ask, mi alma," he grates out as he begins a slow press forward, "All you ever have to do is ask, and I'll give you the world."

Your body yields to him, the head of his cock slipping inside, and he has no more words. Only a strangled groan to match your whine as you clamp down hot and impossibly tight around him.

A sparkling clarity descends, time dilating, stretching out the way it does when he's in the middle of a fight, and he can only be grateful because he's barely clinging to his composure by the tips of his fingers here.

One truth stands out above everything else: he can't hurt you. 

He has to go slow, keep control, make it good for you. 

Jake wraps an arm around you, fingers tangling with yours to rub desperate circles around your clit, and he breathes a sigh of relief when you relax slightly under and around him. Still he doesn't move, not sure if he can without losing it and pumping you full of his come right then and there.

It's only when your hips start to move, hitching forward against his fingers, and then back to fuck yourself a little farther onto his aching cock that he dares draw in another breath, dares to meet your movements with small thrusts of his own, fucking in a little further each time.

And you take him just like that, little by little. One slow press, one torturous inch at a time, until he's buried as deep in you as he can go. 

"Fuck. Jake," you gasp out, clenching hard around him, and he groans. 

He makes the mistake of looking down at where you’re stretched tight around the base of his cock, taking every fucking inch he has to give, and the sight hits him like a punch to the gut. His hips stutter forward involuntarily, and somehow you take him even deeper.

You make a strangled sound, clamping down so tight it borders on the painful, and he freezes, shuddering behind you.

"¡Mierda! ¿Estás bien?" he demands, has to stop and mentally scramble for the words before he can ask again in English, "You okay, mi alma? Shit, did I hurt you?" 

"N-no. I'm okay," you pants out in response, "You can– You can move, Jake. Please. Need you to mo–"

Before you even finish the sentence, he’s already pulling out and easing back in. It’s a tight fit, your body hugging him so snugly that nothing else would fit. 

Lento, he reminds himself, gently. Not too fast. Gritting his teeth against the demands of his body, he presses himself in and out of you as slowly and carefully as he can manage, and he tries to keep his fingers moving on your clit. His free hand grips your hip, fingers digging in until he’s sure it must be painful, but he can't make himself let go.

You whine, writhing under him as he inches back into you.

"Jake," you pant out, nearly sobbing his name, "Jake, Jake," and he slows further, worried that it's too much.

"No!" you cry out suddenly, and Jake freezes on instinct, holding still as you prop yourself up on one elbow, turning your upper body sharply to one side so you can glare at him over your shoulder, "Don't bloody stop. I want you to fuck me."

The words hit him like a blow, knocking the air out of him, and the determined look on your face stabs him right in the heart, his whole chest pulling tight. 

"You've been so patient, Jake,” you cajole him, “and it's good. Better than I thought it would be. I want you to stop holding back. Fuck my ass for real. Let go, Jake."

Fuck, he loves you so fucking much. The feeling is so big, he doesn't know how his body can contain it. He wants to move mountains, conquer the fucking world just so he can lay it at your feet. He'd give you anything. 

But the only thing you're asking for right now is his cock, and that he’s just as desperate to give you as you are to take it.

He pulls out slowly, one… last… controlled… withdrawal, then he slams into you so hard it drives you forward across the bed away from him. Digging both hands into your hips, he yanks you back to him, back onto his cock.

"Like this?" he asks as he pulls out and slams into you again,  "You want it hard? Like this, mi alma?"

"Yes– Fuck– Yes–" you gasp out between harsh thrusts, "Ja-Jake!"

His name breaking on your lips is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard in his entire life, and it severs the last threads of Jake's control. He lurches forward with a roar, driving himself into your tight little ass over and over again, as hard and fast as he can go. 

The force of it knocks you off your elbows, flattening you into the bed, but Jake just yanks you back, repositioning his knees as your hands scrabble uselessly at the sheets.

Every thrust is deep and relentless, burying himself inside you as deep as your body will let him, giving you as much of him as you can take. Until his hip bones are pressed flush against your ass, until his cock is buried inside you to the root, until every inch of him is enveloped by you. 

He's so lost in the feel of you, he doesn't realize he’s fucked you all the way across the bed until you're precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress.

Your knee goes first, slipping sideways off the bed mid-thrust, and it's enough to pull him off balance and send you both tumbling to the floor. 

Instinct takes over, and before Jake even has a chance to consciously register what’s happening, he’s already twisting, shielding your body so that he takes the brunt of the fall. He winds up hitting the hardwood ass-first before coming to rest with his head against the nightstand and you in his lap. 

Miraculously, you’re still connected, the force of the fall shoving you down on his cock farther than ever before, the feeling of being lodged so far inside your tight ass more than enough to overwhelm the slight pain in his tailbone from the fall.

There's a moment of stunned silence, then you start shaking, trembling in his arms, shoulders vibrating against him. He has half a second to worry that he’s fucked up badly enough to make you cry before a loud, bright sound rings out in the room. 

You’re laughing. Oh thank fuck.

"Oh my god, Jake! You just fucked me off the bed, quite literally. That's definitely a first!" you exclaim, twisting around to giggle down at him, eyes crinkled with amusement, mouth curved in an open, full-toothed smile. Jake has a handful of seconds to marvel at how beautiful you are before you shift in his lap, your body clamping down around him, and any last lingering shreds of control he might have been clinging to are gone.

Jake lifts his hips, fucking up into you, and watches your eyes go wide, a gasp falling from your lips.

It's not enough.

He grabs your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh and rolls to his knees, and your gorgeous laughter dissolves into a broken cry of surprise as he drags you with him. The sound melts into a long drawn out moan that has the tip of his ears tingling. He can’t think, all he can do is keep going as he fucks forward into you again, his chest tight against your back as he forces you down onto all fours so he can keep fucking you. 

Fuck. The wood floor is hard and uncomfortable under his knees, digging into his kneecaps. He knows it must be worse for you with his weight bearing down on you, but he can't make himself stop. 

He's been dreaming about taking you this way for so long, and now he finally gets to. He knows, he knows he should stop and check on you, should move the two of you back up onto the bed where you'll be more comfortable, but that pretty little ass is stretched around him so perfectly, tight and hot around him, and his need is riding him hard.

Heat prickles from the tip of his fingers, spreading along the nerve endings along every patch of skin, fuck. It’s everywhere, expanding across the span of his chest, pooling in his abdomen, gripping into his lungs. He can’t breathe. Can’t stop. Can’t–

"Lo siento," he stutters out. "I'm sorry, mi alma. I can't– I have to–" Words leave him, and all he can do is pant against your neck as his hips jerk into you with increasingly sloppy thrusts. 

His end is approaching fast, whether he wants it to or not, and he barely has the presence of mind to shove a hand underneath you, rubbing desperate circles over your clit with fingers gone clumsy with need.

He has to make it good for you. He has to. He has to– 

Por fortuna, it only takes a minute for you to tense underneath him, sobbing out his name and tightening around him so forcefully that he can't keep thrusting, his cock locked in place by the tight clench of your body.

The lack of movement is enough to stave off his own orgasm, but just barely, the pleasure is overwhelming, teasing at the tip of his tongue as you shudder underneath him and you flutter rhythmically around his cock. It's so similar to being inside your pussy when you come, but it's different too. The pulse of your pleasure there squeezing him so tight it's nearly painful, but its so, so fucking good.

He breathes through it, pressing open-mouthed, panting kisses against the skin of your back. Does his best to keep his fingers moving on your clit, trying to prolong the moment for you, to draw you pleasure out as long as he can. He wishes he could see your face. 

Next time, he promises himself. Face-to-face next time, so he can watch every expression you make as he fucks you full of himself and see the pleasure break across your face when you come with his cock lodged deep inside.

All too soon, you're collapsing forward onto one elbow, your other hand shoving at his where it's buried between your legs, and he lets you push his hand away, planting his palm on the ground next to your head. 

You turn weakly to look up at him, pulling partially off of his dick as your body sags like you can’t keep yourself up. 

"Are you ready, mi alma?" he grits out, dimly aware that he's shaking as he braces himself above you, "Ready for me to fuck this tight little ass full of my come?"

"Mmm," you hum, sweet and contented under him, "yes, please."

That's all Jake needs to hear.

He slams his hips forward into yours, and the force of the first thrust knocks you forward off your elbow, your chest meeting the ground as you half-collapse under him. 

Jake follows you down without stopping, fucking into you hard. You sink a little further towards the floor with each thrust until you're flat on your stomach, but Jake still doesn't stop. He can’t, though he's sure he must be flattening you. Doesn't think he could stop if his life depended on it

He's grinding into you now with increasingly sloppy thrusts, burning heat burrowing into the base of his spine as he holds back his orgasm by sheer will, slurring out endearments against the back of your shoulder.

“Mi alma. Mi vida. Reina de mi corazón.”

And you are. His soul. His life. The queen of his heart. You are all of that and more. His gorgeous, perfect love, taking him, all of him, exactly as he is.

"Do it," you say from underneath him, and reality seems to recede, his vision tunneling in on your lips as they shape the words that just might kill him.

"Fill my ass up with your come. Fuck it into me as deep as you can. I'm yours, Jake."

Jake's orgasm crashes into him like an unexpected switch. Like a bomb going off. Like a knife sliding between his ribs, sharp and sudden. Pleasure sears though every inch of the body that has never felt more like his than it does at this moment, his forehead pressing against the warm skin of your back as he empties himself inside you in pulse after pulse of aching release. 

By the time the last shuddering spasm subsides, Jake feels wrung out like a bloody rag. He barely manages to avoid collapsing on top of you, mustering just enough strength to roll the two of you to the side so that he’s no longer squishing you. Pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he carefully pulls out, then pulls you back against his chest, curving his body around yours, and the two of you lay cuddled together like that for a long moment.

Eventually, his strength returns, along with the awareness that the floor he’s holding you on is both hard and probably not all that clean given Steven’s penchant for pouring sand all over. You deserve better. He gets up first, and carefully helps you rise to standing, waiting a moment to be sure you’re steady on your feet, before guiding you gently into the bathroom. 

When he flips on the bathroom light, the shadow of his reflection in the small round mirror transforms into a flushed, wide-eyed Steven who mumbles, “That was… God, that was… ” 

He doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. Jake’s not sure he could either, but Mr Sunshine doesn’t need to know that, so he just shoots the mirror a smug smile and tips an imaginary cap in that direction before he moves to turn on the shower.

You shiver a little when he steps away from you, so once the water is running, he wraps both arms around you, encouraging you to lean against him while you wait for it to get warm. You do, wrapping one arm around his waist in return and curling into his chest like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Jake just watches you. Tilting his head back and slightly to the side to get a better angle, he lets his eyes roam over your face, taking in the soft curve of your cheek, the eyelashes feathered against the soft skin there nod that your eyes have fluttered closed, the hand you’ve settled against his chest, right over his heart, the way your lips curve up into a slight content smile. 

You’re beautiful.

You always are, but right now, something about this moment makes Jake’s chest tight. It steals his breath as surely as if there were hands wrapped tight around his neck, choking the life out of him.  But instead of stealing his life, it’s as if you’re giving him more of it, pumping him full of its essence, filling his chest until he doesn’t know how his body can contain the feelings you inspire in him. 

The bathroom is getting warmer, steam starting to form on the mirror, but Jake is loath to relinquish his hold on you. You seem equally uninterested in leaving him. You’re snuggled contentedly into his chest, but the way you slump lower and looser with each passing second tells him that he needs to get you moving fast, before you fall asleep standing up. “Water’s warm,” he tells you, and you hum sleepily against his chest. It’s so, so tempting just to carry you back to bed, but he knows you’ll be happier if you’re clean.

“C’mon, mi alma. Into the shower. Vamos.”  He herds you gently backwards until you’re standing under the spray.

You hum sleepily up at him without opening your eyes, and he’s worried for a moment that he’s lost you to sleep already, but you stay standing when he cautiously releases you.

Reaching for your soap, he quickly lathers up a washcloth. The smell of the soap—the smell of you—quickly permeates the small space, and he breathes deep, letting the familiar scent wash over him.  He runs the cloth gently over your shoulders,  taking extra care with the still-visible bite mark one of them left there, then down over your chest. The skin of your breasts is soft and warm under his fingertips, and he’s half tempted to try for another round, but he feels strangely protective of your soft sleepiness.

Instead he dutifully rinses you off, letting the water cascade over your body. 

You blink your eyes open long enough to shoot him another warm, sleepy smile, and the contentment in his chest seems to expand, taking root and spreading with every breath until it feels almost too large for the small space of the shower. 

He steps out, reaching for a towel, and drys you off gently, before doing the same to himself with much less care.

Then he carries you back to bed and tucks you in, doing his best to straighten out the wrinkly covers before pulling them up over both of you. Curling his body around yours, he holds you tightly to him. There are a lot of things in this world Jake can do without, has done without. But this– you are no longer on that list.

In the cozy warmth of the bed with your body pressed against his, his eyes feel heavy. Jake never used to fight to stay in the driver’s seat, not once the excitement was over. But he clings to consciousness now. He wants to prolong this moment when his vision is filled, not with yet another threat to body, life or limb, but with something altogether perfect: the sight of you drifting off to sleep, your head nuzzling into the pillow, a slight smile on your face… safe. 

It’s the last thing he sees as he falls into a deep, restful sleep. .

Thanks for reading!

—

Want more to read?

from @astroboots: ’boots’ Masterlist ...or follow astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when something new is posted .

from @thirstworldproblemss: twp's Masterlist | Author, Fic & Fanwork Recs ...or follow @thirstworldproblemss-writes to be notified of new fic

[rynne]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Characters: Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Lan Jingyi, Lan Jingyi's Mother, Lan OCs, Little Apple (Modao Zushi), Donkey OC Additional Tags: Married Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Non-Graphic Depictions of Donkey Childbirth, Children, Wangxian's Baby Fever, Family, Animals as Family Series: Part 6 of The Different Paths We Tread Summary:

As winter and the birth of Lychee's foal approaches, Wei Wuxian finds himself surrounded by a supportive clan, from new friends to children to his amazing incredible husband. Hopefully this new family will cope just as well with the new foal's immense fondness for apples.

[sylwritesstuff]

Such a lovely book!!!

If anyone's curious, here's the ao3 link if you like dragons and magic and mating cycles 🤣💖

Now that it’s landed safely to its new home with @theladydrgn and @sylwritesstuff I can post pictures of my latest bind 🥰

My first paperbacks! I have another one but these are the author copies, and my personal one was my first attempt so doesn’t look nearly as nice 😮‍💨

I’m so in love with the process, and I have four more I’m working on already.

Killian, by @theladydrgn and @sylwritesstuff is a sweet little aziracrow fic, full of fluff and romance (and dragons) 🐉

I really wanted the cover to look like a classic feel good romance, and I think it fits with the book so nicely. The back is super cute, though hard to read, so I’ll remember that for next time 😅

Typeset by yours truly, not pictured is the cute little dragon breaks.

Killian is available to read for FREE on ao3– keep fanfiction free, peeps. This was bound for personal use and with author(s) permission.

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

by the way i do write fic also

i don’t generally make posts here when i post fic since that’s not what this blog is for, but! i do post on ao3 as origamidragons, and i’ve posted a good few fics since catching up on one piece, most of them cowritten with my friend @grainjew, so i figured i might as well mention them here!

becalmed: canon-compliant headcanon of ‘how did rocinante get his devil fruit?’, mostly comedy with some character study (1.2k)

act 3: scene exploration of chapter 1044 examining the fourth-wall-breaking interplay between luffy and hiyori’s climactic scenes (1.6k)

benn’s confusing, bewildering, no good, very odd early morning: comedy gear five time travel pov outsider oneshot set during shanks’s stay on dawn (4.4k)

against the kitchen floor: post-wano missing scene, luffy and sanji and the Suicidal Tendencies (1.3k)

when the blade hits the bone: zoro character story that is sort of about wano and sort of about demons and sort of about mortality (2.1k)

three-body problem: momo post-wano character study. it’s about dysphoria. also yamato is there (1.6k)

kings and queens: set between impel down and enies lobby; luffy and iva discuss gender (1.3k)

we pray to a new dawn: slightly divergent au of canon, what if coby was a nika worshipper (6.2k)

we speak with the sky: a gear 5 time travel marineford fix it that breaks several new things and is barely about ace at all (3.8k)

also, i have a drabble collection, sing me awake with a song about pirates, where i have posted, uh, nearly two hundred bite-sized character pieces!

[morganaspendragonss]

Life will find you the love you seek (3/4)

it's the tk whump chapter! this entire fic was born out of me messaging @tarlos-spain late at night like 'you know what would be fun' and her doing nothing but encouraging me. this one is written by both of us - thank you so much vicky for stepping in when i lost any kind of writing motivation i had 💚 muchísimas gracias querida!

ao3 | 1.6k | 4.04 speculation (kind of lol), mentioned drug abuse and addiction, 'light' stabbing

“Well, this is it.”

TK heard Gabriel twist towards him, but he didn’t look up from where he was scrolling through pictures on his phone. He paused on one taken years ago now, before they were even dating, though even back then, TK had known he was falling helplessly in love. Carlos had snapped the photo the morning after the night out with Paul; they’d gone out for breakfast at a twenty-four hour diner after continuing the party alone in the townhouse, and the dawn light was playing stunningly across Carlos’s skin.

So much had changed since then, most of it for the better, but a part of TK wished he could go back. Not a big part, but a loud one; the part that was telling him Carlos was already dead, that they were going to walk into that house and find his cold body, lips blue and half-lidded eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. 

A shudder ran through his body and he looked up at Gabriel, flipping his phone over when he caught him, too, staring at it.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted. “What if…?”

“What is your gut telling you?” Gabriel looked at him intensely and TK searched for an answer, but all his gut was telling him was that he was going to throw up. He wanted to say that he would know if Carlos was gone, but he just…didn’t.

“I don’t know, Gabriel,” he said. “I need him to be alive, but–”

“Then believe it. Because I’ll tell you what my gut is telling me, it’s telling me that my son is a fighter and he will be doing everything he can to get right back to where he belongs. Back to you. So don’t you dare give up on him, you hear me?”

TK nodded mutely and Gabriel returned the gesture. “Good. Now, remember what I said. Stay close, stay back, and under no circumstances do you do anything that puts anyone at risk? Clear?”

Again, a nod, and again, one in return. TK steeled his nerves as they climbed out of the Jeep but he couldn’t stop himself from clenching his hands and picking at the sleeves of his jacket. The last time he was here had been the last time he’d seen Carlos, and he wasn’t sure how he’d handle it if he saw Carlos here again, but dead.

Worse than losing his mom, probably. 

Probably, he’d be the next dead junkie the cops found.

He banished those thoughts from his mind as they walked in, the door creaking ominously behind them. He stayed back, just like Gabriel said and, for once, TK was more than happy to be cautious. Places like these always seem worse when you’re sober.

They moved slowly but the house was small, so it didn’t take long to reach the bedroom where they’d found Iris. There was still a smear of blood on the wall from where she’d been thrown against it and TK’s heart both sank and lifted when he realised there were no newer stains. It meant Carlos hadn’t been hurt, not here, anyway.

But it also meant they had no trail to follow.

For every step closer they seemed to take, it was like they were being pushed about five back, and TK can feel Carlos getting further and further away with each second that went by.

They were just about to turn and leave when a noise broke the otherwise complete silence of the house. They both turned, trying to locate it, and just when TK had almost convinced himself it was just the wind, it came again, for longer this time, and TK’s head snapped towards where a closet had once been, the door now broken down.

He approached, sensing Gabriel close behind, and there was the noise again – definitely louder now, and it was starting to sound scarily like a scream.

And when TK heard it again, he knew for a fact that it was Carlos.

He didn’t think after that, though if he had, he wasn’t sure he’d have done any different. He leapt towards the closet, pounding and scrabbling at the back of it until something dislodged and a panel fell forwards onto his knees. There was a hole behind it concealing a passage; it was half caved in, but he could fit through the gap, he was sure of it.

Behind him, TK could hear Gabriel calling it in and discussing how to work out where the passage led. But that would take too long and so, when the next scream came, weaker this time despite them being much closer, TK pitched himself forward, forcing his way through the dirt until he dropped into the tunnel.

A cough ripped out of his throat, the stale air and the earth he’d inhaled threatening to choke him, but TK forced himself forward, wriggling until he managed to get his phone out of his pocket and click the flashlight on. The tunnel stretched way beyond the reach of the light and TK was almost tempted to back up, but he couldn’t.

Carlos needed him.

Carlos' voice was nowhere to be heard anymore. TK could not be sure if that was because they had not arrived in time or if on the contrary more had happened; maybe the kidnapper was doing something else and had given Carlos one more moment to survive and hang on until TK got to him.

Either way, he moved through that darkened house as he imagined Carlos had done a day before, flashlight in hand, with the gun TK didn't have now, unaware that there was a terrible serial killer about to harm him.

It wasn't a particularly modern place and whoever lived there hadn't cared too much about decorating and apparently, not too much about cleanliness either.

He heard noises outside the house, the police were approaching and perhaps the killer had already left. He didn't want to confront him, he didn't even care if he escaped. He was sure that Gabriel and all the FBI agents who were going after him would catch him before he tried to hurt anyone else.

Carlos was his priority.

Carlos was his only priority.

He kept walking until he came to a kitchen, though he only noticed the room for the first two seconds. Then he found Carlos's body on the floor. He recognized him despite the darkness that surrounded everything.

"Carlos," he gasped, kneeling on the floor next to his fiancé. "Carlos, no, please, Carlos."

He placed two fingers on his neck and he realised he wasn't breathing. Carlos wasn't breathing, but his body was still warm. He could undo whatever it was that...whatever it was that had been done to him. Carlos wasn't breathing but he was a paramedic, he could solve this. The rest would be taken care of later.

He closed his eyes for a second, took a deep breath and then placed his hands on Carlos's chest as he did with every patient he had to perform CPR on.

"Come on, babe, I can do the hard work, but you have to breathe. 1...2...3..." He pressed down on his fiancé's chest, afraid of hurting him, of breaking a rib even though he was an expert at doing this. "1...2...3... Babe... Carlos... I screwed up, I was wrong to talk to Iris, I should have given her time. I know.... But now it's time to forgive me and come back to me. 1...2...3..."

A noise behind him made him turn around without taking his hands off Carlos, still doing CPR because he wasn't going to stop until his heart was beating on its own again.

He saw the shadow, someone rushed at them and his only possible option was to cover and protect the body of his fiancé. An older, female voice cried out and he suddenly felt the pain. He screamed, he knew the pain of being shot and all the other things that had happened to him, but this was the first time someone had stabbed him.

The pain was even worse when the huge kitchen knife came out of his body. He was out of breath for a moment, but somehow he was still going with the CPR and suddenly, as if by the greatest miracle of mankind, Carlos let out a rattle, his body shook and after gasping a couple of times, he began to breathe.

The woman screamed, but TK didn't hear it. He couldn't care less if she stuck the knife back in him again because Carlos was breathing; his breathing was bad and shaky, he was trembling and moaning, he was not conscious, but he was alive.

Another scream and a shot, then another and a third.

"Carlitos!" Gabriel knelt down, placed Carlos' head on his knees and stroked his hair. "Mijo..."

Carlos groaned and weakly opened his eyes. 

"TK... Dad." He closed them again, he was exhausted and noticed too many things going wrong. 

TK put his hand behind his back for a second and when he looked at it, he saw it covered in his blood.

“Is he gonna be okay?” he asked weakly, arms folded in a way that hid the growing bloodstain on his shirt. 

“Seems like it,” Gabriel said. All the professional tension seemed to have left his body and his head was hanging low, though there was still a clearly worried set to his shoulders. He turned and looked at TK, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, TK. You saved his life.”

TK sighed and nodded. “Good,” he breathed, the strength going out of him all at once.

Gabriel frowned and opened his mouth, but he didn’t have time to say anything before the darkness closed in and TK collapsed.

[14carrotghoul]

and you can tell everybody (unplugged)

Hi friends! Do not proceed if you don't want spoilers for my fic, and you can tell everybody! Album notes and extras are below the cut :)

ACD's early career is releasing covers and original songs with June on YouTube and later TikTok. Career takes off his first year of university and the rest of the band joins, agreeing to play for a few years to see what happens.

[unnamed] (2020) [very little info on this besides being very pointedly Mexican-American, but the genre is rock influenced by Mexican music, like Cafe Tacvba? Molotov? but more modern]

tex mex - Lyrical inspiration: "Somos Mas Americanos" by Los Tigres Del Norte

decisions (November 2023) [highly influenced by Omar Apollo, I promise the other albums are very different! I'm shoving him down your throats here and I know it lol]

1 new message - mellow r&b. Have suspected something is wrong, ignored it, and now the impact is hitting full force. Wrongly interpreted as Alex leaving a voicemail for an ex but it is a song written for his past self about missing his ADHD and bisexuality. Sound: "3AM" by Haim

reckless abandon - daddy issues song cowritten with Liam. Bilingual. Sound & lyrically: "Voice Inside My Head" by The Chicks

am I? - 'You raised me to disappoint you bc I could never live up to your expectations'/'It took me too long to find myself bc I've been trying to be who you imagined'. Sound: "Go Away" by Omar Apollo

new year new me - fuck expectations, I'm going to do what I want Sound: "Invincible" by Omar Apollo

very bad things - upbeat hookup song. breaking all his own rules and it feels good. "Mercury" by Steve Lacy

split household - child of divorce anthem. Sound: "Kamikaze" by Omar Apollo

seria una mentira - don't make me choose a side. I love you both and it tears me apart. Pointedly about parents. Sound: "Two of Us" by Omar Apollo

too much - Cumbia version of "Too Much" by Carly Rae Jepsen

never enough - never enough to convince people to stay. Sound: "Pram" by Omar Apollo. Also feel this song's outro is very fitting for this!

a light left on - Platonic June appreciation song about how safe Alex has always felt with her. Sound & lyrically: "Caminar Bonito" by Natalia Lafourcade

Good - First time he is told and BELIEVES he is good. "While U Can" by Omar Apollo

yrs - Dramatic love song. First time Alex uses rain motif. Sound: "Petrified" by Omar Apollo

seria una mentira pt. 2 - it would be a lie to choose something simple over choosing you. Sound: "Two of Us" by Omar Apollo but slowed down and more hopeful

spine/die climbing - vulnerable pillow talk. Sound: "Plane Trees" by Omar Apollo, Mustafa

miel - sacrilege bj song. Catches on with queer Latine audience and is memed similarly to Call me by your name by Lil Nas X. Grows the band's audience. Sound: "Te Mata" by Kali Uchis.

on purpose - I choose to be all the things that I am and am not picking a side. End album on a positive note. Sound:"Done With You" by Omar Apollo

vows (June 2024) [very American sound, dreamier, more optimistic]

no booty calls - voicemail w instrumental. Sound: "All Around Me Now" by Perfume Genius

apricot tarts - honeymoon period of a new relationship. Sound: "Someone to Spend Time With" by Los Retros

in dreams - extended version of Henry's in dreams email set to music. In this universe, they met and kissed on New Years at Pez's party and still did long distance and exchanged emails :) Sound: "In A River (Acoustic)" by Rostam

supersonic - secret, fun ode to karaoke night and letting loose on a night out. Sound: "Runaways" by The Killers

tapestry - thank god I'm bi anthem. Sound: "The Steps" by Haim

lipstick on her neck - sung by June. Essentially the lyrics of lipstick lover by janelle monae but in "ALLIIGATOR TEARS" by Beyonce Americana style.

then have me - tender I'm putting it all out there, all you have to do is take it. Sound: "Solar Pilgrim" by Twain

pride (and prejudice) - purposefully anthemic chorus. about being proud despite prejudice in a red state. Sound: "Delta Dawn" by Tanya Tucker

he is my choice - eloping in the rain. comedic/romantic song about how everything went wrong at a wedding. Sound: "Howling at Nothing" by Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats

roasting Alex - jam session - the band lovingly roasts Alex. Sound: "Ballad of Hank Williams" by Hank Williams Jr., Don Helms

Not Just Friends - Liam to Spencer. Song about how they're frequently mistaken for just best friends and how happy it makes him to correct that they're more than that. Song chosen so piano and drums play the beats together. Sound: "A Little Honey" by Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats

Be Cool - Spencer to Liam. Quirky/self-deprecating song about his butterflies about being with someone he's in awe of. Sound: "Heart's Content" by Brandi Carlile

a romantic - June to Nora. Confirms that Nora is aromantic to public. June saying she would never need more from Nora bc she gets to wake up next to her best friend every day. Sound: "Tu" by maye.

bluebonnet - This place (Texas) was never a home to me until you showed me how it was a part of you and now I see you everywhere. Sound & lyrically: "I Think of You" by Rodriguez.

red-blooded (August 2029)

cover: Navy suit w white shirt and American Flag pin on lapel, cropped so only torso is showing

Americana sound again - about 50/50 rock and Americana. Features from Dolly Parton, Orville Peck, and Brandon Flowers

blue blood (August 2029)

cover: red British army dress, cropped so only torso is showing

British glam rock sounds. Features from Elton John, Brian May, and samples David Bowie.

co-written with Henry

-

AND as for where they go from the end of the fic:

Alex becomes a civil rights lawyer in Austin.

Henry's writing career grows but he remains relatively private.

June becomes a music journalist. Eventually ventures into exposes on the industry's shady practices and successfully pivots into investigative journalism

Nora does her own thing.

Liam stays in music industry as a band manager under Zahra's tutelage.

Spencer majored in music production/mixing(?) and gets taken under Pez's wing. Has a smaller solo career and produces for a few indie bands before he settles down and works as a sound mixer in the film industry.

Bea continues to play guitar and flit between collaboration projects.

Zahra is the band's manager and Shaan is Henry's publicist/mentor and they meet while officially strategizing Alex's coming out.

[ohyoufool]

My Check Please Fic Masterpost! 🏒✍🏻

👉🏻 Find me on ao3 at nostalgicplant!

Season of the Witch

Zimbits | 2k | Magical Realism AU | Complete

Bitty has three major problems: First, he is in love with his best friend. Second, he is magic. Third, he has no idea how to address either of those. A not-too-serious magic AU.

Sloshed With Gold

Zimbits | 14k | NHL!Bitty and Photographer!Jack | Complete

Lardo calls in a favor. It involves Boston Pride, photography, and a certain blonde-haired NHL player that Jack can’t get out of his head.

ᴇxᴛʀᴀꜱ

Podfic read and mixed by @chaoskiro

"boston pride hq playlist" by @ohyoufool

Creation Myth

Cowritten with @montrealmadison

Zimbits | 24k | Canon Divergence | Complete

Jack Zimmermann overdoses the night before the draft and becomes the face of the Aces anyway. It goes about as well as you would expect.

ᴇxᴛʀᴀꜱ

"what happens in Vegas" Official Playlist by @ohyoufool and @montrealmadison

Fic Binding Video by @ohyoufool

Call of the Champions

Lardo/Camilla, Zimbits | 13k | 2002 Winter Olympics AU | Complete

“Couldn’t find a mini American flag. Ran into an angel in the hallway. Don’t worry about it.” She shrugs her jacket tighter around her neck. Shitty blinks. “That’s a lot. I was doing shots with the bobsled team in the bathroom.” In the middle of a medal hunt during the 2002 Winter Olympics, Lardo manages to find something else she wants just as bad as the gold.

ᴇxᴛʀᴀꜱ

"Call of the Champions: A Lamilla Winter Olympics AU" Playlist by @jubileesbian

Official art by @virgoscringe

Austin

Zimbits | 18k | Canon Divergence | Complete

Bitty: a lesson in bitterness. “Say please,” Bitty breathes, something swelling inside his chest. Jack looks dazed, drunk at the sight of Bitty above him. “I’ll do anything you ask." He fills the space between them with his offer. “If you beg.”

ᴇxᴛʀᴀꜱ

"austin" Official Playlist by @ohyoufool