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steviewashere · 7 months ago

Note

Hello, since you're taking prompts, I'm here humbly requesting anything with autistic Steve because I adore him and he's relatable af. Steddie, heavy on the comfort? Other than that, whatever you like, I'll love it :)

Wooo!! I wrote this in like three hours because I was on a roll, so I'm excited to share this!

Rating: Teen and UpCW: Meltdown, Overstimulation (Not That Kind), Some Negative Stimming, Mild Internalized AbleismTags: Post-Canon, Post-Season 4, Established Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Cuddling & Snuggling, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Soft Steve Harrington, Soft Eddie Munson

Also on AO3

💕—————💕 His t-shirt was too tight. Had it shrunk in the wash, he initially asked himself. Is this not even mine? But when he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, reflected back at him was the same burgundy colored t-shirt, softly worn and sweat stained, a big graphic stretched across the chest that read: ‘Go Bulls, Go!’. Where this thing came from, he doesn’t remember, but it’s kept him comforted and grounded throughout the years.

Steve had a particular wardrobe. Maybe a bit peculiar to the normal, wandering eye. But to him, his clothes made perfect sense. Every pair of jeans was just a size bigger than he needed them, to give him the extra give. All of his white boxer briefs were made of cotton, because the silky type were always too constricting. His socks had holes and patches on them—worn over and over and over again, folded inside out so that the seams didn’t catch under his toes, but they were the perfect level of softness that he couldn’t find anywhere else. Polos made of cotton. Henleys the same. And his t-shirts, well they were soft, too.

In fact, Steve loves soft things. Loves loose things. Loves expected things.

But now his t-shirt is too tight. The t-shirt he thought of all of the last three days. A t-shirt he thought would look good with his light washed Levi’s—always worn on Thursdays for his day of errands. And looking at the little desktop calendar in his room, it is indeed Thursday. He planned this, but he neither planned nor considered the possibility of a clothing malfunction. His hands go to stretch the hem of the shirt, pluck it away from his body and make the fabric accommodate him. However, at the first tug, the loosely bound hem gives an unmistakable Riiiippp sound.

And…

Great, he thinks, I’ve just ruined one of my favorite shirts.

The t-shirt’s too tight, now ripped, and about to be retired. If only he could find something that works the exact same. Every t-shirt he tries on has some sort of error: too big, too ugly, clashing colors, won’t match the Adidas he picked out last night, stretched on the collar, so on and so forth. It’s Thursday, he thinks, it’s a busy day. Errand day. And now I have nothing to wear. Well, he has something. Not exactly what he planned. But if he doesn’t just put on a damn shirt, he’ll never get through his day, and if he misses out on the free time to take charge of the few errant errands—Steve’ll never get them done or he’ll get them done on a different day, a day where it’s noticeably not Thursday.

He snatches a yellow polo from the back of his closet. Dijon mustard colored. Too scratchy over the downy hairs on his belly. But he doesn’t have the time. Doesn’t have the time to redo his hair—three puffs of hairspray and he’d have to do a fourth, but four doesn’t fit, it’s not right, it’s too different. So he just settles. He’s got a schedule today, and damn the world for already trying to stop him.

Next on his agenda is breakfast.

Which, now that his head is shoved dutifully in the fridge and he’s rummaging around like a dumpster diving raccoon, he remembers that he has to go grocery shopping. Down to three large eggs, a couple bacon strips that didn’t crunch right the last time he ate them, and some cream cheese for bagels he can’t reason eating anymore. But he makes do. Again, settling—always settling, it seems. Because today just can’t go right.

Half-way through the eggs, his brain reminds him that he’s eating eggs. The texture going from wonderfully scrambled, not too soft and not too dry—to awfully rubbery and terribly bland and disgustingly charred. His bacon didn’t crisp right, so he won’t even attempt the few nibbles that lay out on his plate. And the bagel is just…staring up at him like the thousand eyes on every spider of his nightmares. Just the mere thought of cream cheese on his tongue has him wanting to hurl. So he tosses the rest, sets his plate in the sink, and wonders if he’ll even have the time to do the dishes—they aren’t piling by any means, but he didn’t plan this. He wanted cereal this morning. Had thought about the near glass like shards of Cap’n Crunch against the roof of his mouth, drenched in whole fat milk. But, again—You’re an idiot, he’s starting to chastise—he forgot that he needed to do a grocery run today.

Now that his stomach isn’t full and is left completely unsettled. Now that his shirt is scratching him and rough in all the wrong places. Now that more wrongs have been done to him than rights, he can woefully cart himself to the supermarket.

Only to get there and not find a spot. Well, one in the back of the parking lot is barely a spot. The one he hates parking in because he always has to walk two minutes longer than he needs to and sometimes the gravel from the nearby bushes is kicked up and then he steps on it and there’ll be a rock in the sole of his shoe. Like there is today because of course, of all days, there are little jagged gravel rocks for him to step on and feel through the soft, giving out soles of his sneakers. Of course, he thinks—riding over mildly irritated to extremely annoyed within seconds.

The grocery store is hell on earth, if it exists. Lights fluorescent and produce aisle sprinklers going haywire and the coffee grounds too fresh and the chatter of people incessant. Annoying.

He brought a paper slip with him. His chicken scratch identifiable to him. Reading:

Grocery List

Milk White Bread (Wonder, not Kroger) Peanut Butter (Jiff, not Skippy) Laundry Detergent - unscented Cat food (salmon this time, maybe that’ll lure in that stray?) Pasta (Thin spaghetti, penne, and farfalle) Parmesan (Preferably not in the jar, but whatever is cheapest) Potatoes Pop-Tarts? (Eddie’s favorite is brown sugar) Chicken Chicken nuggets

The cart he grabs has a wheel that squeaks the entire time he pushes it. Wonder bread is sold out by the time he gets to the right aisle. They really should say something when they change the layout of the store, he notes bitterly, stuffing a couple loafs of Kroger white bread into his cart. Skippy was the chosen option of the creamy peanut butters, simply because the Jiff wasn’t on sale anymore. On the bright side, salmon wet cat food wasn’t too expensive, even if he could only grab three cans. The Pop-Tarts are forgotten by the time he makes it back to his car. And the first paper bag has a handle that rips off almost immediately. And he forgot to unload the quite substantial amount of baseball supplies he brought to the park the other day—which means the bags are loaded into the backseat and he can only hope and pray that the milk doesn’t topple over and squish the bread or god forbid the laundry detergent somehow gets jostled the wrong way and spills all over his car.

He should’ve made another list of things he needs to remember he’d done. Would’ve been nice, he supposes, if he told his future self that the baseball equipment is still in his trunk. But, alas, here he is playing the same Tears for Fears tape again, listening to the baseballs clink off of each other. Thank god for the Tears for Fears tape, though—it’s the same one he’s listened to nearly every day since he bought it in 1983. At least that’s something to expect. At least it’s something he can rely on after the absolute shitshow he’s had today.

Though, maybe he should’ve expected having to pull over to the shoulder. In a car that chokes and gives up when he’s two-thirds back, half-way through his errands list, and completely done with everything. His hands are tight on the steering wheel. And there’s nothing but silence flowing around him. It’s like drowning, sitting here like this. For once, after everything he’s ever experienced and having so many bad days like this, he doesn’t know what to do.

A part of him, the overwhelmingly obvious part, wants to scream and cry and kick his legs out in front of him. Wants to dig the heels of his feet into the pure asphalt underneath the rubber tires of his stupid, unreliable car. Maybe tear the shirt right off his body and squish himself back to normal. But in the open, bright pool of sunlight, he can do nothing but just sit there. Head against the steering wheel, wet breaths through his nose, and a tightness in his throat that won’t rid even after his fifth swallow. Part of him wants to cry and cry and cry and never stop crying. And it sounds good. Not here, though. Not yet.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there before something knocks on his window. So, he rolls his head over to peer—not at all that gently, with enough force to drive a hard line into his skin. But when he catches sight of the person watching him nearly fall apart, he wants to cry impossibly more.

It’s Eddie. With his big, soft, concerned eyes. Hair tied up into a bun. Coveralls over his body, splattered with oil and other unidentifiable muck. Probably coming back from an early morning shift at the auto shop in town. He can help, maybe. So, Steve cranks down his window. Enough that Eddie can dangle his arms inside and crouch down to get a better looks.

“Stevie,” he softly greets. “You doin’ okay?”

Steve just shrugs. Makes some sort of noncommittal grunt. He works his jaw tight and tense. Mumbles, “Car broke down.”

Eddie hums, acknowledging. He looks over his shoulder briefly, leans to peer into the backseat, and then looks onto Steve again. “I can take a look, if you want, sweetheart.”

“Don’t have enough money to get it fixed right now.”

“Baby,” Eddie sighs. His eyes go half-lidded with aching. He reaches out a tentative hand and gently traces his fingers over Steve’s left shoulder. Inching his way to his neck, where knots are surely forming. “It’s free of charge for you, you know that.”

“I just don’t care about it right now,” Steve lies. He cares a great deal. Cares that this has ruined his day. Has ruined the rest of his plans, but if he admits that, he’s sure he’ll cry. He’s not sure why that’s his first reaction: to cry and break things and flap his hands as if ridding the energy. Not sure why it hurts to look Eddie in the eyes right now. Why everything that’s happened has affected him so negatively. Why he’s so particular about his things to do and how he dresses and what he eats. But he knows he’ll cry if he explains.

“Okay,” Eddie mutters. His fingers are soothing over Steve’s shoulder. Light and airy and so soft, it makes Steve want to melt. “How about I drive you back? Help you unpack your groceries? We can leave this baby right here for now and figure out how to get it back to you later, alright?”

Wordlessly, Steve nods, hauls himself out of the driver’s seat, and helps Eddie unpack the bags into the back of his van. That part of him that wants to destroy flares alive inside of him. And he has to restrain himself from chucking the milk carton against the side of the van. But he gets into the passenger seat, silent and seething and mildly overwhelmed.

He gets angrier, though, as soon as Eddie’s radio blares to life. Heavy, obnoxiously loud drums and guitars and vocals fill the space. Instinctively, Steve’s hands shoot to his ears, covering them completely with his palms, digging his fingernails into the skin around them. Garbled, he makes a noise of great discomfort. Grits his teeth together. Squeezes his eyes shut until little speckles of black float in the corners. And hunches into himself, compact and an easy trick to consolidate himself. It doesn’t work, though. Nothing is working in his favor.

“Turn it off, Eddie,” he distantly hears himself snap, “turn it off!”

All at once, the music stops.

Steve sighs, not quite relieved, but easier. It’s still bright. And Eddie’s van smells a little bit like marijuana. And maybe Steve hasn’t smoked that in a little while because the scent is too intense and he never knows how to explain why the smell alone makes him want to scream, but it does and he knows part of that isn’t normal but he doesn’t know how to be normal and now he’s blown his cover all because of something petulant like music being too loud and now Eddie won’t want to date him because he’s being irritable and annoying and—

“Sweetheart?” Eddie’s distant, raspy, soft voice calls. “Is it a migraine? Do you need some water?”

“No,” Steve answers tersely. “Just take me home, Eddie.” He can’t loosen himself from the tight hold, from the squeeze of his eyelids, from the tension in his fingers. But he’s probably making an ass of himself. Probably pissing Eddie off. “Please,” he tacks on, “please take me home, Eddie.”

Nothing else is said as the van rattles and grumbles, pulling away from where Eddie had been parked. There’s no words. No music. Eddie doesn’t fidget. Steve doesn’t think either of them breathe, really. And not only has he pissed Eddie off, but he’s starting to make himself angry. Why couldn’t I just be normal, Steve internally bemoans. I’m being annoying. And he shouldn’t be helping me. And I should’ve just called a tow truck. And I’m making a big deal out of nothing, just like Mom and Dad used to say.

And if he were in a different mindset, he could probably think about why that statement used to feel so miserable. When his parents would dismiss him. Send him to his room. Where he’d sob into his pillows and toss his books across the room and hide inside his closet because it’s the only place that truly felt safe. The closet, where the world couldn’t reach him, and the lights were all dark and he could hum as much as he wanted. Because nobody could find him. And nobody cared. And then he was warm, safe, the version of himself he felt he needed to be.

Eddie parks gently. He helps bring the groceries inside. And then he just stays. As if Steve didn’t just ruin everything. But he looks at him with those concerned eyes again, fidgeting with his fingers because he wants to reach out, about two seconds away from crawling out of his skin. Meanwhile, Steve’s pacing back and forth, squeezing his hands shut, eyes closed, breathing heavy through his nose.

“Is something wrong, Steve?” Eddie finally breaks.

Steve shakes his head quickly. “Long day,” he gets out.

Humming, Eddie takes a step forward. He tilts his head and attempts to make eye contact, but Steve averts his gaze. “Why don’t we sit down for a bit and take a little breather?”

“This is the wrong shirt,” Steve blurts, scratching at his stomach again. The shirt keeps rubbing up and down whenever he bends, whenever he moves for that matter. It’s starchy and too new. Too much, not enough. “And my hair is a mess.”

“It’s not a mess,” Eddie murmurs, “looks fine to me.”

“No. I messed it up this morning. Because I tried on all my shirts.”

“All of them?”

Steve nods hastily. “None of them were right. And that doesn’t make sense, I know, but it’s true. And I put three puffs of hairspray in, needed a fourth, but that’s not right either.” He angles his head up at the ceiling, furls and unfurls his hands a few more times before placing them palm down and flat against his chest. Wants to press down. Hard enough to remember, but not enough to bruise. So he does. Gives in. Allows himself this one good thing, the pressure, the hurt, the sizzling ache. “My breakfast was gross.”

“Yeah? What’d you have, baby?” Eddie gently asks.

“Why—“ Steve gasps, struggling. “Why are you fine with this?”

Taken aback, Eddie makes a soft noise. His eyes widen and he furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m being weird. I—You saw me! I was having like a little mini freakout in my car and then I got all mad at you and I was covering my ears and keeping myself tight and now I’m—Fuck, I’m going insane.

“Everything’s wrong. Everything is so wrong. My whole day is fucking wrong. Schedule got ruined. The clothes I planned out days ago didn’t work. My breakfast was bullshit and the grocery store didn’t have the right bread and Skippy is my least favorite peanut butter, but I had to get it because it was on sale and I forgot to get those Pop-Tarts you like even though I wrote them down on my stupid list but I don’t make enough lists because I forgot about the baseball stuff in my car and it shouldn’t have been there and that’s why I had to put the groceries in the backseat and the only good thing was my Tears for Fears album was still in the radio—And…Fuck.” Steve takes a haltingly loud gasping breath. He slams his hands over his chest, finally giving in to that innate urge he’s carried since he was a kid. Squeezes his eyes shut again, not wanting to see whatever hurt or disappointment or realization washes over Eddie’s face.

He continues, “I left the album in my car. The light’s too bright. I can…I can like hear the wiring in the fixtures. Everything. I’m feeling…I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m feeling. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,” Steve babbles. His hands flex into his shirt, the fabric wrong on his skin. Fingernails scratching at it, trying to tear it off. Wants to crouch down onto his knees and hide between the corner cabinets, nestle himself in a dark place, cry until there’s nothing left to give.

The realization hits him all at once, he needs to get away. To the safe space he created. So he forces himself around Eddie, up the stairs, behind his slammed bedroom door. And he crawls the rest of the way into the deep, far side of his closet. On top of old blankets, underneath too small clothes. Rests his head against the wall. And just…sobs.

His elbows rest upon his knees as he shields his face with his forearms. The sounds of his cries muffled by his own skin. He kicks off his sneakers and digs his feet into the pile of blankets underneath him. Trying to get rid of the itchy, swooping, nauseous ache from inside him. He doesn’t like this part of his bad days. Doesn’t like being alone. To be left with his own mess. But he’s not sure how Eddie will respond, so he figures this is better.

Though, that’s quickly proven wrong when Eddie carefully comes in, announcing himself as the door opens. He stops in front of the closet and crouches down. “Hey, Stevie? Is it alright if I’m in here, baby?”

Steve sniffles. “I…You’re not going to be mean, are you?”

“No, Steve. I promise I’ll be nice. I just…You seem really overwhelmed and I thought maybe I could help you a little bit.” He shuffles forward slightly, opening the closet door from inside. Peeks through the gap. Asks, “How?”

“Could give you a hug? But…I was thinking we could trade shirts first? Mine is pretty soft, kind of loose. I know that’s how you like your t-shirts, baby.” For good measure, he plucks his t-shirt and gestures for Steve’s.

“You’ll look like a dork.”

“Yeah, but you’ll be comfortable. So hand me your shirt and I’ll give you mine.”

Once they’ve exchanged shirts, Steve leaves the closet and sits with Eddie against the side of his bed. Sure, the mattress may be soft and feel nice, but the firm ground under him keeps him anchored. He leans into Eddie’s side, lets him drape an arm over his shoulders, and sighs into the hold. Eddie’s other hand comes up and he traces fingers over Steve’s hairline, featherlight but caring all the same.

“Does this help?” Eddie whispers.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “Sorry about…Well, being weird and getting all intense earlier.”

Eddie shrugs. “It wasn’t like that at all, baby. You had a bad day, nothing worked in your favor. I’m not going to fault you for reacting.”

“I was crying in my closet, Eds. That’s hardly normal.”

“I’d cry, too if I had the day you experienced.” He runs his hand between Steve’s shoulder blades, pressing firmly over the tense knots that formed. “Is there anything I can do? Anything on your list that you need help with?”

Steve nuzzles his face into Eddie’s shoulder, cheek squished against the joint. Muffled, he says, “For now, can you just hold me for a while? Nobody’s ever comforted me like this after…Well, you saw what happened. But later, can you help me vacuum and mop?”

“I’ll hold you forever,” Eddie promises. “And I’ll exterminate all the dust bunnies you could ever think to encounter, nothing could make me happier.”

Something in him finally chips away. He’s not quite loose, yet. Not ready to release all the pent up negative energy he’s seemed to catch throughout his day. But he can believe Eddie, for the moment. He rests his head deeper into Eddie’s shoulder, lets himself fall into whatever song Eddie is humming, reaches out and grips firmly to one of Eddie’s hands. Plays with his rings, the smooth metal like a balm on the fatty part of his thumb. He relishes in how Eddie just lets him. Lets him, despite everything.

He can’t quite look Eddie in the eyes, not yet. Can’t force himself off the ground. Can’t quite get rid of that intense, drowning sensation that burbles in his chest—makes him want to cry and breakdown even further. And maybe he can, realistically. But later, he surmises, later he’ll do that, so long as Eddie continues to not mind.

The warmth of their shared bodies is nice. The softness of Eddie’s t-shirt against his skin. The gentle musk left on the collar from whatever cologne Eddie uses. Something with bergamot, a little bit of citrus, something like bourbon. He closes his eyes softly. There’s not much light flooding into his bedroom, just a stripe of golden sunlight from between his curtains, but that’s fine.

For the first time today, something is fine.

“I like this,” Steve quietly admits. “You being here with me through this, I mean.”

Eddie makes an acknowledging hum. “Whenever you need me, I’m a phone call away, sweetheart. I’ll come dashing over, your knight in shining armor, armed with the softest of t-shirts and the most delicious of snacks just for you, baby.”

Steve chuckles. A sound he thought wouldn’t be possible on a day like this. Despite everything, he smiles softly. “I’d love that,” he whispers, “I love you, Eds. Thank you for making me feel a little bit normal.”

“I love you, too, Stevie,” he responds, easy as that. “And I mean it, baby. I love you, I want to hold you and cherish you. You need anything, any time of day, you call me. Bad days are no joke.”

“Mmm,” Steve gently hums. “Maybe I should add cuddle time to my daily routine?”

“Maybe you should,” Eddie agrees. “I think that would be excellent for both of us.”

“Good,” Steve states quietly. He wraps his own arm around Eddie’s waist, pulls him in tighter, and tucks in close. “This feels right.”

💕——–——💕 Taglist: @hotluncheddie

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #autistic steve harrinton #angst and hurt/comfort

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dcwildwestfest · 10 months ago

Text

Love is a Cowboy

By deancaskiss | @deancaskiss Art by thestarsmakemedream | @thestarsmakemedream-art

Coming to Ao3 on April 16th, 2024

Rated Teen | 8,200 words | No Archive Warnings Apply

Retirement. Something Dean never expected he’d get to have, especially with Cas by his side. But here they are, and Dean knows it’s finally time. After months of searching, when Cas finds them the perfect forever home to make their own, it feels too good to be true. But it’s real. And it’s all theirs to start something new together. What was once bags packed with weapons and salt becomes cowboy boots, baskets of homegrown herbs, and feed for the animals. But Cas knows there’s one part of the hunting business that Dean still needs. Saving things. And luckily Cas knows exactly how to make that happen to turn their ranch into a home to create their own found family.

[Keep reading for a sneak preview!]

“No,” Dean said, pushing the paper across the table with a frown. “We ruled that one out last week. You’re just getting desperate putting it back on the table.”

Cas dropped his head back, casting his eyes up towards the ceiling with a long sigh. “Dean. There isn’t anything else within a 50-mile radius that has enough rooms to fit everyone, and is the right distance between Sam and Eileen, and Jody, Donna, and the girls.”

Dean shoved his chair back, stalking across the kitchen and leaning against the sink with his back to his husband. “We discussed this, though. A million times, Cas. That house is too dark. It feels like this bunker all over again. And slap bang in the middle of a cookie-cutter neighborhood. That’s not us, man. We can’t do the whole ‘friendly with neighbors' crap. And if something ever does track us down, it just puts hundreds of people in danger.”

Taking a deep breath, Cas made his way over to Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and dropping his chin onto Dean’s shoulder. “Then maybe we broaden our horizons. Look at something different?” he murmured against the back of Dean’s neck.

Dean tensed up for a second, before the frustration ebbed away and he turned in Cas’ embrace. Cas was the one to tip their foreheads together, and Dean let him, letting his eyes flutter closed as Cas’ hands slipped under the hem of his shirt to trace patterns along Dean’s lower spine.

“Like what, Cas? What could possibly ever feel like home after all the shit we’ve been through? Nothing on Earth feels safe enough and normalcy isn’t something we can just mold into.”

Cas’ hand stilled on Dean’s back for a moment, before he inched closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to the corner of Dean’s lips. “Do you trust me?”

“C’mon that’s not fair, this doesn’t have anything to do with—”

But Cas shook his head, the movement separating their lips, leaving Dean with a sudden ache to feel Cas’ mouth against his own again.

“Answer the question, Dean. Do you trust me?”

And wasn’t that a loaded question? All the truth and lies over the years. The betrayals and the forgiveness. The loss and heartbreak, clashing with faith and love.

There was no one Dean trusted more.

“Of course I do.”

Cas smiled, rewarding Dean by bringing their lips together into a kiss. “I’ve got an idea.”

#dwwf #deancas wild west fest #supernatural #spn #destiel #deancas #fic promo #dwwf 2024

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ladyeyrewrites · 2 months ago

Text

Bun in the Oven

Rated M

Chapter 1/4

2160 words

chapter One of the trans!Tommy mpreg episode 8X07 rewrite I posted a snippet of on Wednesday.

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

There was a knock on the door.

Buck frowned. It was a bit early for it to be Maddie and Chimney but maybe they’d lucked out with the traffic situation. He wiped his hands on his apron, stepped away from the stand mixer, and answered the door.

It wasn’t Maddie and Chimney.

Instead, Tommy’s broad frame filled his doorway.

Buck’s breath caught in his throat. “Tommy, hi,” he said. “I was just thinking about you.” It was true. Buck hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Tommy since he’d overcorrected after the whole Abby reveal and asked Tommy to move in only for Tommy to break up with him because of some bullshit about Buck breaking Tommy’s heart in the future. So, Buck had done the only logical thing: purchased a stand mixer and filled his fridge with baked goods.

Honestly, Buck wasn’t sure if he was more angry or sad about the whole situation, but he did know that his stomach still swooped at the sight of Tommy standing in his door and it took every bit of self-control not to lean in to give Tommy a kiss hello. Not to wrap his arms around Tommy and pull him inside and never let him go.

“Sorry, I should’ve called before just showing up,” said Tommy. “But I think I left one of my chargers here and I can’t find my other one. So, dead phone.” Tommy sounded on the verge of tears which seemed strange when he could’ve just gone out and bought a new charger rather than checking to see if he’d left one at Buck’s. But maybe it wasn’t about the charger, maybe Tommy just wanted an excuse to see Buck.

Or was Buck letting himself get his hopes up for no reason?

“I uh, haven’t seen it. But are you okay? You look like you’re about to cry.” He wanted to reach out and touch Tommy, to offer some sort of comfort, but that wasn’t his place anymore. Tommy had taken that away.

Tommy shook his head. “Mood swings,” he says.

“Yeah, well break ups will do that I guess,” said Buck.

“That and I think I’m still adjusting to my new birth control,” said Tommy. About a month before the break-up Tommy’s primary care physician had suddenly retired and Buck had helped Tommy scramble to find another in-network provider who understood the healthcare needs of trans men. It had been such a headache and then once they’d found a doctor he’d wanted to adjust Tommy’s dosages and change Tommy’s birth control method from an oral contraceptive to an implant in the hopes that it would lessen the daily dose of dysphoria Tommy got when taking the pill.

“Listen, Buck—” Tommy started.

Buck flinched. God, it sounded so wrong hearing his nickname coming out of Tommy’s lips. It made him want to scream. But he was trying to be mature about this. Trying to be civil. Trying not to cling since that was clearly what Tommy wanted, and Buck could respect that even if he hated it. “I found some of your shirts in the laundry,” Buck said before Tommy could say anything else that was probably going to break Buck’s heart again. “I was going to text you.” Which was maybe a lie, because sure Buck had thought about texting Tommy, but never about the shirts.

He'd composed texts with everything he’d wished he’d said to Tommy instead of letting him walk out the door that night.

Texts that devolved into spiteful rants.

Miss you texts.

u up? texts.

All deleted and transmuted into baked goods: cakes, cookies, scones, loafs, Baked Alaska.

It seemed Tommy wanted to look anywhere but directly at Buck, which was just another thing Buck had lost. Buck blinked against threatening tears as Tommy glanced around Buck’s loft, eyes taking in the subtle changes that had taken place since they’d broken up, until his gaze settled on the mess that was Buck’s kitchen island. “You’ve been baking.”

Sure, Buck had baked with Chris before to help out with a school bake sale since Eddie was so culinarily clueless, but he hadn’t really done it in his own time until he’d found out about Tommy’s sweet tooth. He’d been practicing to make something for Tommy’s birthday but then Tommy had to go and dump him. Bitterness spiked through him. “Yeah. Anytime I get the urge to call you, I just I channel the impulse into something positive, like Baked Alaska.”

Tommy’s face twisted with regret, eyes growing glassy. Buck wasn’t sure if that had been his intention or not, but maybe it would be good for Tommy to really see how much Buck had been thinking about him. So, Buck walked over to the fridge and pulled out three loaves, making sure the fridge door was opened wide enough for Tommy to see the extent of Buck’s foray into baking and how often he’d been thinking about reaching out. “Here, you should take some.” He plopped three loaves into Tommy’s unprotesting arms. “Here’s a lemon loaf, and a walnut loaf, and a pumpkin loaf.”

“That’s a lotta loaf,” Tommy managed to say. “Buck, I—”

“Hang on, let me go grab those shirts,” said Buck because hearing Tommy call him by his nickname rather than his name made him want to scream and he didn’t want to do that, not when Tommy looked like anything could cue the waterworks at any moment. So, Buck might have fled his kitchen, jogging upstairs to grab the reusable tote bag of Tommy’s tee shirts and flannels he’d accumulated over their six months together. That bag had been haunting him every night as he lay in bed – alone – trying to fall asleep, wondering if Tommy was also alone or if he’d already managed to find a rebound.

Buck hefted the bag and his heart panged. Once he gave this stuff back, Tommy would well and truly be gone from his life. There’d be no excuse for Buck to reach out. No trace that Tommy had ever been in his life save for the indelible mark he’d left on Buck’s heart. So, Buck did something maybe a little impulsive and indulgent; he snagged one of Tommy’s flannels out of the bag and shoved it under his pillow.

He was absolutely not going to bury his face in it and cry himself to sleep later.

As he was engaging in some of the most pathetic breakup behaviour ever, his kitchen timer went off downstairs.

“Buck, do you need me to do something?” Tommy shouted up the stairs, voice carrying over the shrill timer beep.

“Yeah, could you just grab the baked brie out of the oven?” he asked. He snagged his favourite Tommy t-shirt out of the bag and stashed it with the stolen flannel too. If Tommy was allowed to unceremoniously dump Buck, then Buck was allowed to steal his clothes and not return them.

Buck gave a satisfied nod and started down the stairs to join Tommy. He was halfway down when he heard Tommy gag. Buck looked up from his feet in time to see Tommy turn literally green before unceremoniously dumping Buck’s baked brie on the counter, bee-lining for the sink and vomiting down the drain.

Buck raced down the stairs, rushing to Tommy’s side and rubbing smoothing circles on his back before he even realised what he was doing. “Are you okay?”

“Are you sure that cheese is okay?” Tommy asked catching his breath. “It reeks.”

Buck frowned as he got down a glass and filled it with tap water for Tommy to rinse out his mouth. “Uh yeah,” he said. “And brie’s not a stinky cheese.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Tommy sagged, leaning against Buck’s counter. “But my sense of smell’s been really weird the last few weeks.”

A sinking feeling filled Buck’s stomach. This all sounded very familiar.

They’d always been so good about using protection and between birth control and testosterone Tommy hadn’t had a period in well over a decade. But there’d been that little lapse before Tommy had found his new doctor and oh, God they’d definitely had unprotected sex that one time when they were both a little tipsy after getting back from babysitting Eddie. “You’re pregnant,” Buck blurted before his brain could send his tongue anything more tactful to say.

Tommy turned white as a sheet, eyes going wide. “I can’t be,” he said. “We were always so careful—” he trailed off and from the way his eyebrows shot up into his hairline Buck bet that Tommy had just connected the same dots he had. “Shit. You might be right.” His hand went to the back of his neck in a self-comforting gesture and Buck recognised all the signs of Tommy starting to spiral that he’d steamrolled over the night Tommy had ended things.

The last thing he wanted was for Tommy to leave right now. And that was probably the last thing Tommy needed right now. “Okay,” said Buck. He put his hands on Tommy’s upper arms and gently guided him to one of the bar stools. “Sit. Breathe. I need to make a phone call and then we’re going to talk. Okay?”

Tommy nodded, gulping down an unsteady breath.

Buck fished his phone out of his apron pocket and dialled Maddie. “Hey Mads, you and Chimney haven’t left yet, have you?”

“No, the sitter’s running late,” said Maddie. “Why?”

“I’m gonna need to take a rain check,” he said. “Tommy’s here.”

“Oh!” said Maddie. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I don’t know yet,” said Buck.

“Well, let me know when you do,” said Maddie. “And take care of yourself.”

“Thanks, Mads,” Buck hung up and turned back to Tommy.

As soon as Buck’s eyes landed on his ex-boyfriend Tommy bolted up off the stool. “I should go,” he said. “You had plans and I should go.”

Buck took advantage of the fact that his legs were longer than Tommy’s and intercepted him before he reached the door.

“Buck move,” said Tommy. “I need to leave.”

“Nope,” said Buck. “I’m not going to let you walk away from me again. Not until I’ve said what I need to say, and we make a plan to move forward.”

“There is no moving forward,” said Tommy. “There is no “we” anymore. We broke up.”

“No, you broke up with me and left,” said Buck. “You didn’t let me say anything. You just decided on your own that there was no way I’d want you around in the future and then you left. Also, if you’re pregnant, I want to be there for you no matter what you decide to do, even if it’s just as a friend.” Because even though Buck so desperately wanted more, now wasn’t the time to say as much.

“It’s probably just a stomach bug,” said Tommy.

“If you really believed that you wouldn’t be running away,” said Buck.

Tommy flinched and Buck hated himself a little, but he needed to say everything that had been circling through his head in the time since Tommy had broken things off. “I don’t know what happened that made you think you could never be my last,” said Buck, speaking carefully so he wouldn’t say something he’d regret. “I know nothing I say right now is gonna convince you of the truth because now there’s maybe a baby involved and that complicates things, but I really wanted you to be my last Tommy. I still do. And this isn’t me asking you to change your mind about breaking up, but maybe it’s me asking you to trust that I actually know what I want. And what I want is to be there for you no matter what’s going on, in whatever way you’ll let me. Please let me.”

Tommy sighed and he looked at Buck so tenderly, despite the dark circles under his eyes that Buck had to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep himself from reaching out and cupping Tommy’s face in his hands to try to rub some of that fear and exhaustion away. “Okay,” said Tommy. He backed away from the door, returning to the bar stool at Buck’s kitchen island.

“I guess we should probably see if you really are pregnant,” said Buck, relief flooding through him.

“Probably,” said Tommy.

“I can run to the drug store and grab a few tests,” said Buck. “But you have to promise not to go anywhere.” He fixed Tommy with a meaningful look until Tommy met his gaze and nodded. Buck took his apron off and grabbed his wallet and keys.

“You promise?” Buck asked.

“Yeah, Evan, I promise,” Tommy snapped.

Buck grinned.

“What?” Tommy asked.

“You called me Evan,” said Buck and Tommy probably hadn’t meant anything by it. It was clearly a slip up, but it soothed something within Buck to hear Tommy call him that.

Tagging those who asked and those who seemed interested:

@silversky9 @unhingedangstaddict @ironspiderdad12 @beanarie @sporadicmakerwerewolf @azaharinflames @aisatsana441 @bugboybuck

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan #tommy kinard #evan buck buckely #mpreg #trans tommy kinard #pregnant tommy kinard #8x07 rewrite

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dcdreamblog · 10 days ago

Note

So, um... what's the deal with Starman? A friend and I went to this art show the other day and apparently the artist, this Knight guy, used to be Starman? Except I can't conceive of this soul patched, bowling shirt-wearing dad (his kids were at the exhibition, very well behaved at that), being the same guy who flew around with the JSA in that cool starfield pattern costume. And then my friend starts trying to gaslight me about "no, this guy was Starman in 1951" which sounds like some nonsense conspiracy theory. Help?

I'm afraid that what you find unbelievable is simply true.

(A mural of Knight that stands in Opal City to this day)

Jack Knight is the youngest son of Theodore "Ted" Knight and Adele Drew and he is not exactly the kind of man you would imagine when considering the Knight legacy, especially considered how worshiped his father was in Opal City and still is to this day. But life comes out you fast I suppose.

He never WANTED to be Starman, by his own admission he only took the job when his older brother David was killed in a conspiracy put in place by his father's old nemesis The Mist in an attempt to destroy Knight's legacy and Opal City along with it. Jack freely admitted his original motivations were a mix of guilt and vengeful anger.

He fit VERY awkwardly into the role, having never fully seen eye to eye with his father and having deeply unsettled feelings about his late brother and mother. When the chips were down though he served Opal City when she needed a hero more than once.

He didn't stay in the role for very LONG, especially after he became a father. When his own father gave his life to save Opal City one final time, Jack left his Cosmic Staff to his JSA teammate Stargirl and moved to San Francisco where he now lives with his wife, Sadie Payton-Knight and their children, Kyle and Marie Jr. Currently he works as...something between an antiques dealer and a modern artist which is probably where you ended up seeing him.

(A piece of Knight and his some Kyle, done by Knight himself) As you can see above, he is known as being kind of a walking anachronism. Like you said he's always sporting a goatee, product in his hair and is wearing some bowling shirt or other, usually with an obscure mid century reference on the back. He's the last guy you would think of as a superhero, and yet, I imagine that we'd find most superheroes are like that. Secret identities and all.

Really, I say more power to him. Opal City is currently the stomping grounds for Black Condor and the Dibnys, on and off, so its not like they're hurting for defense. Especially since Opal City has the lowest crime rate per capita of the entire country. He's given AN interview, just to get all his cards on the table immediately post retirement and even donated a few of his father's things to this museum and the JSA Brownstone museum, and of course the Starman museum in Opal City proper. Though a lot of artifacts he's keeping "in the family" for what are, I think, very understandable reasons.

As far as my field is concerned, he's affable in person but more or less we try not to bother him. The Starman legacy and the Superhero life took his mother, his brother and his father from him before he turned 30. God knows what else. Let the man raise his kids and wear his Flintstones socks in peace.

And the "Starman of 51" is a story ALL on it lonesome.

#dc #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #superhero #comics #tw unreality #unreality #unreality blog #ask game #ask blog #asks open #please interact #worldbuilding #starman #jack knight

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echoingbirdsofprey · 2 months ago

Text

Delicate (Jake's Version)

4 - Rough On The Surface

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!)

Warnings: flirting and exactly one kiss on the lips between Jake and Sam, alcohol consumption, mention of Jake's dad's death

WC: 2.3k

A/N: Jake mentions his brother, surprise!

Playlist

This asshole, she thought as she stood on the front step, leaning against the side railing that they'd installed a few years ago for her father. Rocco was at the end of his leash, sniffing the chilled salt brimmed morning air. Sam was waiting for Jake at six in the fucking morning, which was normally fine because she got up at six to take a walk anyway, but it was six oh five and he was just pulling up now. So much for those impeccable time management skills they taught him in the Navy. He stepped out, sunglasses on, in his khaki pants, and a black t-shirt that hugged his upper body in all the right ways, and were those cowboy boots? Why was he wearing cowboy boots underneath nice khaki pants? An interesting choice , she thought.

Rocco greeted him first, jumping at his legs and Jake bent down to pet the little traitor. There was obviously something about Jake she wasn't seeing because Rocco was super territorial of new people around Sam, but he wasn't with Jake. Not even a little bit. His eyes locked on hers as he pulled his aviators off, and he smirked as he stood back up.

“Trying to win me over by saying hi to my dog first. That's one I haven't seen.” she said and he looked away with a smile as he clipped his sunglasses to the front of his shirt. His dog tags were hanging over the fabric and she took a quick peek. Seresin, Jacob A. She wondered what the A stood for. It also had his Naval Identification number, his blood type, and his religious preference. In the event of a crash or an emergency situation, he could be identified and his family could be notified. He noticed her looking though, and tucked them into his shirt. Odd, as if he didn’t want me to see?

“Lead the way.” He said and she glanced down at Rocco, who took that as his signal to rocket off the steps and pull her along until they got to the end of the walkway. Once they got onto the normal sidewalk he chilled out. He did this every morning so she never let it bother her. She knew he was excited to go for his walk.

“Someone’s excited.” Jake said as he walked beside Sam. “He always like this?”

“Unless he’s asleep, yeah. He’s gotta keep his slim figure.” she joked, making Jake smirk and let out a small laugh. He was walking close enough that his arms brushed hers a time or two and it made her blush. Sam decided questioning him was the best course of action, to distract from her obvious zeal. “So...where are you from?”

“Really? That’s the best you can come up with? And here you are sayin’ I’m the boring one.” He mused and she shot him a glare. He smirked and shook his head as he blew raspberries from his pursed lips. His very pretty pursed lips. “Believe it or not, I’m from Arkansas.”

“Hmm...I can see it. You’re wild enough.” She said and he took it as a complement. “Is your family there?

“Dardanelle, Arkansas is home to Kenneth Seresin and Jeanie Owens-Seresin.” He said and her brows furrowed.

“Your mom’s got two last names?” She asked and he nodded.

“Yes ma’am. My actual Dad died driving a tractor trailer cross country when we were little kids. Like four or five. He was comin’ home on I-30 through Little Rock and someone popped in front of him in a truck with farm equipment on it, slammed on their brakes cause of a car in front of them and he hit ‘em goin’ eighty, got crushed in the cab and died before they could get a Helo to the nearest hospital. Momma met Kenny years later when we were in middle school and remarried. My brother kept dad’s last name and I took Kenny’s because it has a little weight in the Navy and on me. He’s a retired fighter pilot and the only father figure I’ve ever had.” Jake explained and she kept one eye on his face while he explained and one on the sidewalk. His brows furrowed and knitted as he talked about his dad, and then his expression became softer when he mentioned his step-dad.

“You have a brother?” She asked and he nodded as they got closer to the little cafe that she went to for breakfast sometimes.

“Yup. Tyler. Older by a few hours...technically older by a day I guess cause he was born at eleven somethin’ pm and I was...” He stopped speaking for a moment as his gaze locked on hers. “Sorry...I don’t ever talk this much...about...”

“No it’s okay. It’s nice to see you have some humanity and you’re not just a giant asshole.” she said with a laugh and he smirked and laughed too.

They headed into the little cafe, and the barista gave Rocco a treat. Sam ordered what she normally ordered, and then Jake ordered and he paid for everything. As they left, Jake’s arm brushed against Sam's, his skin warm against hers.

“Y'know, I’m not always an asshole. There’s a whole other side of me that I don’t show people. I think I’d wanna show you though...” He said as they walked and she sucked in a sharp breath. Hearing him basically say he wanted to be vulnerable with her? Hot as fuck, she thought. And, it didn’t sound fake coming from him. There was a way that his expression softened and his eyes filled with a warmth that made it believable, and so different from any other guy she’d ever been with. Most of them put on a facade anyway like he did, but all of them never let their guard down. Jake seemed like he wanted to. But with his friends, the pilots he flew with, he wouldn't. With her he'd be willing to.

She stepped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. He cleared his throat and tipped his sunglasses down so that she could see the pretty sage green of his eyes.

“So show me who you really are, Jake Seresin.” She said and he tentatively reached up. He pushed his sunglasses back into place and his fingers ghosted over her cheek bone, and then hooked around the base of her skull, still gentle, much more than she ever expected with all the hard and tight muscle he was comprised of. He tilted her head up and leaned in, his other hand holding his coffee and the bag with both of their breakfast sandwiches in it going around to her lower back. His dexterity was apparent as she felt a single finger at her back, the other four holding onto everything else. This close, she could see his eyes studying her from underneath his aviators and as if by magic or some otherworldly force he lured her into closing the distance between them. His lips were soft and warm against hers, his tongue begging for a taste of her. She obliged and closed her eyes, letting him control the duration and intensity of their first kiss. What felt like minutes gone by was really only seconds, as they parted and he licked his lips and smiled down at her.

“That tell you anything?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, with a rasp to die for. Sam felt a shiver run down her spine, and she had to look away, her composure failing. There was an electricity, a spark that now set fire to an inferno in Sam's chest. Her heart beat rapidly as she stared up into a sea of green.

“Not what I was expecting...” She said, glancing down, almost nervously he noticed. Jake's fingers were still at her neck and he pushed some of her pretty dark mahogany brown hair from in front of her eyes and behind her ear. His thumb pressed lightly to her cheek and she noticed his eyes soften even more underneath the sunglasses. There was a gentle and kind man behind the rough and tumble fighter pilot that Sam wanted nothing more than to see more of. He let his hand drop down to her waist and pressed slightly to move her along. They walked as slow as they could back to her house, stealing glances back and forth in the morning sunlight.

🛩🛩🛩

Sam opted for a pretty cocktail dress that stopped just above her knees, a light blue color with thin straps. It was very simple and very plain and she wore silver heels with it. She always thought less is more and when she saw Nat in a similar style of dress but black in color, she knew she’d been right. She hugged her friend and they headed into a club. Nat wanted to dance and Sam wanted to get a little drunk. The girls headed to the bar first, grabbing shots of top shelf whiskey and chasing it with cocktails that they took to the dance floor with them. Sam put her phone in her bra and with a hand on her drink and the other on Nat's waist, they moved in unison to the bass heavy beats that the dj spun. This was their play every time they went out together, because normally guys left them alone. They danced for what felt like hours and nursed their drinks before they walked to a table in the back and sat down. Catching their breath they both checked their phones.

Jake: hey

Jake: was just wondering what you were up to?

Jake: didn't know if you wanted to come to the hard deck tonight?

Jake: nevermind Bob said you and Phoenix were out together

Jake: have fun 😏

She typed a response back.

Sam: hi cowboy

He was quick to respond.

Jake: lol that's my brother not me

Sam: i can't call you cowboy?

Jake: rather you call me Jake...or Hangman

Jake: or maybe something else

Sam: something else Hmm?

Jake: ya 😏

Sam: well like what?

Jake: boyfriend?????

Sam: let's not get too excited

Jake: but we kissed

Sam: oh Jakey you're gonna have to do more than that to get me to call you my boyfriend

Jake: fuck i thought I could stop trying so hard

Jake: jk

Sam: tomorrow

Jake: ???

Sam: what are you doing

Jake: work...then nothing

Sam: okay...

Jake: may I take you to dinner?

Sam: so polite when he wants something

Jake: youre killing me

Sam: yes we can go to dinner...nothing fancy though. Show me small town Arkansas Jake

Jake: yes ma'am

Sam felt eyes on her.

“Who are you furiously texting?” Nat asked, her eyes widened and a huge grin across her lips.

“Jake...” Sam said sheepishly. Nat shook her head

“Yeah. How'd that go? You never texted me that night.” Nat said and Sam smiled.

“Surprisingly well. He's actually nice.” Sam said and Nat held a look of astonishment.

“I didn't think it was possible.” She said and Sam nodded.

“It is. What's the issue everyone has with him?” She asked.

“He's just super cocky. He actually is a really fucking good pilot, but he's bad at being a team player. He wants to be a leader with none of the responsibility for his team. That's a problem when you're up there with a wingman. You have to watch out for each other and he's always out for himself.” Nat explained and Sam pursed her lips.

“Maybe he just needs someone to show him how.” She said and Nat laughed.

“Great. Glad you've applied for the job and accepted it. Fix him, Sammy. If you can fix Hangman's bullshit attitude, I'll kiss you on the mouth.” Nat chuckled and Sam did too.

“You would kiss me on the mouth anyway.” She said and Nat smirked.

“If you fix Hangman, I'll kiss Bradley on the mouth.” She said and they both laughed out loud.

“Okay now that I wanna see! Deal!” Sam yelled and the two ladies decided on another round of drinks before they would head out for the night. Nat was responsible and brought Sam home and Nat knew she'd have to be up super early to head back to base for training, but she elected to stay the night at Sam's anyway. Sam wasn't about to let her drive even though Nat could drink anyone and everyone under the table and she'd barely been phased. Nat took a shower and then Sam did also and they cuddled up in Sam's bed like they used to do when they were little girls.

“Platonically yours.” Nat said, kissing Sam on the temple. Sam began to drift off to dreams of a certain blond and cocky lieutenant.

🛩🛩🛩

In the morning, Rocco had found his way onto the bed like he always did. Anytime Sam was home from college, Rocco gravitated toward her because he knew she was going to take him for a walk early in the morning. His extra small doggie bladder couldn't hold much and he was a good water drinker. Ice usually woke up in the middle of the night and let him out into the backyard for a bathroom break. Now that Sam was home for good, Rocco was very happy to march his cute little hot dog booty to her room and climb onto the bed, patiently waiting for Sam to be ready for a walk and a piss. Sam had awoken first to a single text.

Jake: mornin’ pretty girl

Sam smiled a tired smile and glanced over at Nat, who wasn’t quite up yet. She kissed her friend on the forehead and pushed the sheets down. Normally, Sam slept naked. When she was at college, she did as well, unless Shelby had a guy over. Last night though, she'd decided to put some panties and a tank top on. She hopped out of the bed and headed to the bathroom. Nat rolled over onto her back and checked her phone, noticing a message on Sam's phone.

Jake: breakfast?

Nat pursed her lips as she climbed off the bed. She took Sam's phone and opened her messages and read through Sam's with Jake and her eyes widened. Nat wanted to say she was jealous and she almost felt betrayed a little, but at the same time, she was kind of curious to see where this went. Could Sam actually change Hangman's attitude?

#jake seresin x oc #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #top gun hangman #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #glen powell

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bruce-wayne-simp · 1 year ago

Text

Ok so I conjured up this little ficlet over the course of like an hour while eating lunch

Inspired by a pic of Tom I saw earlier today 👀

Glimpses of Humanity

Rating: M

Word count: 428

Tags: Dream/Hob, Fluff, Retired!Dream, vague body image stuff, romance, no beta we die like mne

Thanks to @chaosheadspace for the title ❤️

-------------------------

Hob leans against the doorframe, watching with a fondness as Dream studies himself in the bedroom mirror. He's dressed in a grey shirt, and those absolutely criminal skinny jeans he found at the shops last week.

He has the hem of his shirt pulled up to his chest, staring at the line of dark hair on his belly. Fingers lightly grazing it occasionally.

Dream has been retired for a few months now and is always discovering new parts of his body that he'd never noticed before, much to Hob's delight. And sometimes embarrassment, though most of that had been quickly squashed soon after Dream had shown up to Hob's flat.

"Hello handsome."

Dream's head snaps up, startled, from where he had been focused. He makes no move to pull his shirt down, Hob notices.

He walks up behind Dream to wrap his arms around him, resting his head on his lover's bony shoulder. Dream relaxes into his hold.

"What were you doing?" Hob turns and kisses his neck.

Dream runs a finger over his own abdomen. "I noticed it earlier this morning. While I was changing my clothes. I'm not certain how I feel about it."

"That's okay." Hob tightens his arms around him. "I can show you how to shave it, if you'd like. Or we can look into something else to get rid of it."

Dream nuzzles into his hair. "What about you?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you like it?"

Hob moves a hand down to run his fingers along Dream's fuzzy abdomen. He shivers in his arms.

He noses behind Dream's ear, "I love it, duck."

Dream turns in his arms to capture his lips in a searing kiss, one hand coming up to bury itself in Hob's hair, the other resting on his chest.

Hob walks them over to the bed, gently pushing Dream down onto it, breaking their kiss slightly before he climbs onto the bed as well, hovering over his lover.

"Truly?"

Hob runs his thumb across a cheekbone. "Truly, dove. I love every part of you."

Dream smirks, "How much?"

"Cheeky thing. I'll show you how much."

Hob kisses at Dream's cheeks and neck as he makes his way down his body. Dream's body lurches as he reaches up to snatch a pillow for his head. Once a king, always a king. Hob snorts and Dream lightly smacks at his head in response.

Hob acquiesces to his lover's will, pulling Dream's shirt up to kiss and lick at the newly discovered hair there, following it down to where it disappears under his jeans.

Fin.

#dreamling #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream/hob gadling #fic

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breyito · 5 months ago

Text

When you are not, actually, the first

@painlandweek Day 4: Domestic AU

Second entry, little fic explaining this little drawing of mine.

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen, M/M Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Relationship: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne Charles Rowland (DCU) Crystal Palace (DCU) Additional Tags: Celebrity Crush, Silly, Jealous Charles Rowland

Here on AO3

Summary:

It's the 14 of July of 2024, and both the EURO Championship and the Copa América are about to determine their winner. Amongst teasing and some shit talk about their chosen teams, Charles discovers the reason Edwin got into football in the first place. He's not pleased. He's also not pleased about Edwin and Crystal's discussion about which current player is the most handsome. (When he mentioned them being similar, he did not expect their tastes being this similar.) That may just be the reason he accepts that bet. (Crystal is so done with both of these idiots. Well, at least they are endlessly entertaining.)

"Hey, guys-" Crystal started as she entered the office without warning. Interrupting herself, she stopped and stared at the picture the boys presented her. "What is going on?"

Both of them were sitting on their little couch, but at the edge of the seats. Charles' right leg was practically vibrating. Edwin was just in his shirt (which is a state of undress that she had never personally seen him in unless the usage of excessive amounts of energy and magic had been done), and didn't even have his 'braces' on. Charles was in his maroon polo, and didn't have his braces either.

She turned to see what the hell they were watching and discovered a...TV? A very old one, the square boxy type that she had only seen in old movies. The TV seemed to be floating, somehow. Which was cool, but, you know, didn't explain anything. They looked like they were engrossed in some sport match, which is something she never thought Edwin would be interested in. He always seemed so much....refined than that.

"Oh, hi Crystal." Barely looking at her, Charles waved. "Today it's the finale for both Football Championships!"

"Yeah, and England already lost ours." Edwin stated, eyes not leaving the screen once.

"Give it a rest, mate." Charles complained. "You can't still seriously think-"

"Since David Beckham retired, the England team has been in shambles ."

"It's not like we won anything with him either!" The punk boy complained, making the other one gasp, offended.

"Beckham? The really hot blonde footballer that owns the Miami team Lionel Messi plays in?" she asked, sitting down on the desk. She was not getting in range of those over-excited boys cheering for a sport.

"Yeah, the very same." Edwin answered, still not looking away.

"Wait, hot one ?" exclaimed Charles, at the same time, turning his head and looking at the other boy, gaping.

Crystal pressed her lips together not to laugh. She really should have brought popcorn (she needed to learn to have some snack on hand whenever she visited the boys, they were just so entertaining.)

There was an awkward pause where the only sound came from the TV narrators (were they speaking Spanish?), until Edwin finally looked back at Charles.

"What?" he said, defensive, blushing. "He has always been exceptionally fit."

Despite Charles' offended face, Crystal couldn't stop poking.

"Edwin...."she started, smirking, jokingly aghast. "Do you have a crush on David Beckham?"

"...perhaps." he cleared his throat and smoothed down his shirt. He looked like he regretted not having more layers to fuss over in order to avoid looking at them.

"Wait a minute." Charles started. "Is that why you kept taking my magazines, back in the 90's? I thought you were just throwing them away!"

"Charles, you kept cluttering the office." He defended himself. "And they were only red tops. Drivel and sensationalised photographs, little else."

"Well, you still took them, didn't you? And you kept lecturing me about wanting to keep up with the living!"

"Please, I was not about to encourage your crush on this...'Posh Spice Girl'."

"Are you kidding, mate? You also-" Charles started, agitated.

"Are you both kidding me?" Crystal interrupted, standing up. Both boys shut up and looked at her. "You" she pointed at Edwin "had a crush on a playboy athlete and you" she now pointed at Charles "had a crush on his brunette ' posh' girlfriend" she continued "and that didn't give either of you a clue?" she finished, incredulous.

Both boys just blinked at her, not understanding.

"About what?"Charles asked, gesturing, lost.

" I literally can't with you two sometimes. " she mumbled to herself as she slid her hands across her face. "Nevermind." he told them louder, sighing.

There was an odd silence as the TV announced that the last additional time was about to start.

"So, Edwin." Charles started, tone leading.

"Charles..." the other boy tried to stop him with a look, to no avail.

"I just want to know if you still find him 'exceptionally fit'!" He finished with a winning smile, leaning closer. After a few moments, Edwin caved and finally answered.

"Not as much now, of course. He's aged gracefully, but."

"He has more daddy energy than you're comfortable with?" Crystal finished for him, grinning wide. Charles made a hilarious noise, like a deflating balloon.

"...I suppose that is not incorrect." Edwin finally said, with a pained expression.

"So who do you like now? Messi?" The Edwardian made a little moue. Charles seemed to relax slightly at this negative.

"He appears to be a kindhearted individual and is not unattractive. But I find myself drawn in by the more...rakish players." Edwin cleared his throat again, looking at everything but the two of them.

"Oh, like De Paul, if we keep it to Argentina?" she inquired, more than curious. (Also, Charles' face was a lesson in microexpressions and it urged her to keep prodding).

"Not that rakish" he said, affronted. "Rodrigo De Paul is handsome, but no." A pause, before he reluctantly added. "Agüero, perhaps, although he is retired now. Paredes, from this line-up, then." Crystal hummed, as she looked up pictures of them.

"Ooff, yeah. Those eyes ." she said, dreamily, showing her screen to Edwin.

"Exactly." The older boy smiled.

"He's just so...pretty." she sighed, sitting on the arm of the couch to keep sharing the photos she found.

"In that we agree." Edwin said, eyes locked on the screen. "He also-"

"No matter how fit they are, they are gonna lose." Charles spat, interrupting, with his arms crossed. Were he a cartoon, Crystal would bet Charles would have had a dark aura surrounding him. Edwin looked baffled at his words.

"They are the World Champions, Charles. You were rooting for them earlier."

"Well, they don't have Messi anymore, do they? They are going down ."

"You really think so?" she asked, amused.

" Yes ." Charles doubled down. "I'll bet you anything: they lose."

"Anything?" questioned Edwin, now interested.

" Anything. "

"I'll take you up on that bet, then." The Edwardian ghost said, extending his hand. Charles swallowed and hesitated, before Edwin's raised eyebrow made the decision for him.

They shook hands and turned back to watch the rest of the match.

Charles had nobody else to blame when he lost.

(And Beckham. He also blamed Beckham.)

#painland week #dead boy detectives #dbda #payneland

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just-french-me-up · 1 year ago

Text

(In)somnia Veritas

Fandom : The Sandman (AO3 link) Pairing : Dreamling (Dream x Hob) Rating : G | 1.8k Tags : Angst & Comfort, Retired Dream, Post Wake Fix-it, Established Relationship Summary : No longer Dream of the Endless, Morpheus spends his first night as a human at Hob's, struggling with his new condition. He can not sleep. He will not sleep. How could he, when wakefulness is all he has ever known?

Hob had expected the craziness of it all to keep him awake. The Kindly Ones. The Fates. Daniel Hall. Dream of the Endless, now, for all intents and purposes. It all whirled in his head as he settled in bed, Dream―Morpheus' form next to him, already still from sleep.

Hob's gaze lingered for a moment. He didn't look changed. Even like this, very much asleep and vulnerable, his lips slightly parted in a shallow, slumbering breath, Morpheus still looked like the powerful being he'd been, mere hours ago. Human. It hardly seemed thinkable. Hob had been around for a while, and never had a human ever looked like that. Yet another rule broken tonight, it seemed.

As his head hit the pillow, Hob could feel the heaviness of the day weighing on him, a crown of lead encasing his head, a migraine he resigned himself to fight all night. Instead, sleep took him the second he closed his eyes, his body melting away, as though engulfed by a wave.

The rest was for Dani―Dream of the Endless to know.

It was still dark when sleep loosened its grip around him. Disoriented, Hob rolled drowsily on the mattress, expecting to meet the cold yet substantial shape of Drea―Morpheus' body, yet only found more sheets.

Confused, he cracked an eye open, his hand instinctively patting the empty space, as though he would find Morpheus hidden between the folds somewhere. Nothing. Hob's heart jolted wildly in his chest, pumping bitter bile in his throat. The Fates changed their minds, panic whispered in his ear instantly. They've taken him back. They could not let him be.

Slapped awake, Hob sprung out of bed, blood thrashing in his ears. I've got to get him back, he kept thinking. I must get him back. He did not know where to start, how to work out any kind of summons or strike any sort of supernatural bargain (those had a tendency to find him, not the other way around), but he would figure it out, he had to, he would even call―

His hand still tense on the doorknob, Hob froze in his tracks.

In complete darkness, Morpheus was sitting on his couch, his thighs pressed against his chest, still wearing the old t-shirt Hob had given him as improvised sleepwear. He barely seemed to notice the interruption. He barely seemed to breathe, for that matter. He simply sat there, statuesque, his eyes burning a hole into the opposite wall.

Relief flooded through Hob at the sight, no matter how eerie it felt. He was there. He hadn't gone anywhere. His hand relaxed around the doorknob, though his heartbeat had trouble adjusting.

"You alright?" he asked quietly, his voice slightly hoarse.

There was no acknowledgment of his presence, or answer. Still as a rock, Morpheus kept staring at the wall, his face blank.

Hob dared a few steps closer.

"Can't sleep?" he tried again, cautious not to startle him as he neared the couch. He considered switching on the lights, but quickly decided against it. It felt like one of those matters that were best discussed under the cover of darkness. The constant London light pollution would have to do.

"It's all so... silent."

Hob stilled, caught off guard by the sound of Morpheus' voice. It was still his, undeniably, every note, every inflection, but it missed... something. An edge. A preternatural depth that rose from the dawn of times, when the first being laid down and dreamt on its first night. A human did not need such speech. Like the rest, it now belonged to Daniel.

Hob approached him, electing to sit at the edge of the couch rather than directly next to Morpheus.

"You think this is silent?"

He had grown used to the constant whir of London life, every new century bringing new sounds to the mix, but there was no ignoring the myriad of dogs barking outside, the drunk students talking much louder than social norms would allow during the day, and the ballet of bin lorries and automated street cleaners. Could Morpheus not hear that?

"How can you bear it?"

Slowly, Morpheus' eyes left the wall to settle on Hob, turning to face him. Even with the lack of proper lighting, Hob could see his eyes clearly. Blue, as the day they first met. And full of apprehension about this world he'd never had to navigate this way, even though his pride would not allow him to put it in such words. This, at least, had been his to keep.

Hob stared at Dream, at a loss for words. If this was silence for him, what hellish racket must have been filling his mind until then? How could he bear it?

"It's all I've ever known," he said, settling for something that felt true, in his core. "I'm sorry. I imagine it must be... jarring."

"It is... unnerving," Morpheus nodded slowly, looking down, as though he would not bear to admit it while looking at Hob in the eyes. "Isolating. Empty. And at the same time..."

"Deafening," Hob supplied helpfully. "I understand."

Of course it felt empty, he thought. When one had spent their entire existence with the collective unconscious at their fingertips, dreams and nightmares echoing into their ears every second of every day, being severed from it must feel like having your head dunked into a bucket of water.

"It is no wonder humans devised all matters of utensils to fill the silence," Morpheus mused faintly. "It kept them from going mad."

Them. Humans. Hob wondered how long it would take Morpheus to see himself as one. Never, perhaps. He struggled to see himself as other than what he was, originally. The only difference between them was that Hob had considerably benefited from the change. For Morpheus, this was hardly a step-up. It was free falling.

There was an urge there, lodged deep into Hob's chest, to reach for Morpheus' hand, to hold him close, to offer him all the reassurance he could provide and then more. But Morpheus was not there yet. This human body ached, Hob knew it. It was new, unused, unacclimated to the world it had been thrown into. It looked every way the body he knew, the one he'd touched, loved, held, once. Not quite, though.

"We could buy you a white noise machine," Hob suggested lightly, pushing down the emotion down his throat. He was here, safe, it was all that mattered, in the end. Hob just needed to be patient.

Morpheus frowned, confused.

"It's a box that makes noise. Some people use it to fall asleep."

There was a huff, and the first hint of a smile on Morpheus' lips since their encounter with the Fates.

"Of course you people fashioned a noise machine."

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," Hob smiled, purposefully stirring the conversation towards a lighter territory. "Whale songs might be just what you need."

"I doubt it will suffice."

In spite of Hob's best efforts, Morpheus' playfulness was short-lived. His face closed again, returning to its persisting melancholy. Hob leant towards him, inching closer, assessing his lover's reaction, any sign of recoiling.

"What's wrong?"

"I fear I may not be... welcome to the Dreaming."

The admission rolled out of him like a wound, bloody and raw, almost shameful. Hob furrowed his brows.

"You're afraid Daniel may not grant you entry?"

"No, I..."

Morpheus gave out a faint frustrated sigh.

"It is no longer mine to rule. Dream of the Endless endures, outside of me. Perhaps I do not... belong there. My presence could be ill-received."

"Love, I―" Hob bit the inside of his cheek, trying to find the words that would hurt the least. "You will have to sleep at some point. That's... I'm sorry, but that's part of... this."

"I know."

In the darkness, Hob could have sworn he saw a tear trail down Morpheus' cheek, glistening in the light of a nearby street lamp.

"I'm sure Daniel will go easy on you. He's a good kid."

Was a good kid, Hob reminded himself. Daniel was an empty name now. There was no more Daniel Hall. Not really. Dream was what remained.

"It is a terrible fate I have delivered onto him," Morpheus countered weakly. "It would be fair on his part to torment me for it."

"Morpheus."

Unable to help himself, Hob rested his hand atop Morpheus'. His skin was warmer than usual, he noticed. Human. Instead of pulling away, Morpheus leant towards him, almost nuzzling against his shoulder.

"I have never fallen asleep," he confided softly. "Never dreamt. Not once."

It had always felt odd to Hob that Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares, did not sleep. How scary it must be, for someone who had never done it, to surrender yourself to the hand of another, in your most vulnerable state. Scary enough to leave the bed and avoid sleep altogether.

"I could hold you," Hob suggested gently. "Whatever happens in the Dreaming, it can't harm you here, can it?"

"No. Not really."

Not the most reassuring answer. Nor the clearest. Vagueness was a Morpheus trait, then, not a Dream trait. Good to know.

"I would like that. You, holding me."

"Come here, love."

It happened slowly, inch by inch, but Morpheus nestled into Hob's arms, resting his head in the crook of Hob's neck. Hob could feel his breath blowing against his skin, warm, regular, vital. It was odd, but far from unwelcome. More new than anything else.

"How does it happen? Do I merely close my eyes and wait?"

"Essentially. There is a relaxation aspect to it, though."

Clearly something Morpheus had no experience with either, considering how tense he felt against him.

"You could... breathe with me."

"Breathe with you?"

The suggestion sounded ridiculous in Morpheus' mouth, but Hob was not so easily deterred.

"Yeah, just... just humour me."

It was difficult, at first, for Morpheus to follow the rhythm of Hob's breathing. He was going either too fast or too slow, as though breathing did not come naturally to him, which, in fairness, it did not. It was a conscious effort, every time. After a few minutes of off-beat inhales and exhales, they came to a harmony, their chests rising and falling in tandem. Morpheus had only been pretending to sleep earlier, Hob understood. He could see it now, from the way his face truly relaxed, how his body became more pliant in his arms. If he was not fully asleep, he was getting there, at last.

Hob smiled at the sight, pressing his cheek against his lover's forehead. He could feel Morpheus' pulse where he held him, strong, regular, and undeniably human. Yet no less the man he loved, in spite of the changes.

"Sweet dreams, dear heart."

He raised his eyes to the ceiling, knowing full well there was no one to hear, and no one listening, but he could not help but add:

"Let him rest, will you? I don't think he's ever done that in his life. Might as well start this one with something new."

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starfirewildheart · 10 months ago

Text

Chapter 18

Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.

Pairing: Sy / OFC

Word count: 2,353

Rating: mentions of war; being a POW, death and animal abuse. Nothing graphic I promise but if the fic continues (if y'all like it) I'll add warnings for each chapter.

Chapter 18

Deb yawned and stretched, smiling as the soft blanket slid down over her naked body. She took stock in herself noticing the knee brace had been reattached and her body ached in all the right places but she was alone. “Sy?” She called out.

August heard Debbie's soft voice call out and rushed to check on her. “Hey.” He bit back the smirk that was itching to spread across his face as she blushed and covered her pert breasts with the blanket. “Sy and Geralt went on a couple errands. Do you need anything?”

She bit her lip. “Did he say how long he'd be gone?”

“I figure about an hour, hour and a half.” He noticed her squirming. “I can help you if you need something. “

“I..I need to use the bathroom please.” Her face flamed all the way to the tips of her ears.

“Ah, no problem.” He walked to her side of the bed and started to reach for her and she squeaked.

“No, wait! I need some clothes. In the dresser, on the left side are some sleep pants and on the right are some of Sy's t-shirts.”

August gathered the requested clothes and took them to her. He smirked when she looked at the sleep shorts he handed her. They were very short. “Easier to get over your cast darlin. Want me to help?”

“No! Just wait outside the door please?”

Just before he pulled the door closed he looked back over his shoulder. “No standing on that leg, young lady or you're in trouble.” He chuckled when her jaw dropped.

After cleaning up in the bathroom, August carried her to the kitchen and sat her on the island countertop and handed her a glass of juice and some pills.

“What are these?”

“Anti-inflammatory, muscle relaxer, and antibiotic.” He pointed to each one as he listed them. She tossed them back with a sip of the juice. “Good girl,”

Deb blushed and grinned shyly at the praise. August picked her up again and instead of carrying her with her legs, well good leg around his waist and his arms under her bottom like Sy, he carried her on his hip like a toddler.

He settled them on the sofa with her bad leg across his lap and flipped the t.v on finding a show for them to watch.

“So is there a girl somewhere waiting on you?” She arched her brow at him.

“Personal much?”

“Very, but you dressed me in booty shorts so it's fair,” She smirked.

He sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. “I'm sure there is one, somewhere but I'm never in one place long enough to form attachments.“ She was shocked at his honest answer instead of his usual smart-assed avoidance when the conversation turned to him. It was a common theme with all the guys in the unit. They all traveled so much that they didn't have anywhere to call home after leaving the military. “Don't give me that look, princess,” he shook his head at her.

“There's no look,” She held up her hands in a universal surrender pose.

“Attachments are weaknesses and weaknesses get people killed.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Yes,” his voice was adamant.

“And you think people who have them are weak,” She added.

“Yes.”

She nodded and chewed at her bottom lip. “That's why you didn't like me. You see me as a weakness for Sy. You think I make him vulnerable.” They were all statements, not questions. When he didn't respond she knew she was right. “All of you look up to and respect Geralt like he's the father or big brother you never had. He doesn't see love as a weakness.”

“It's different with Sy. Geralt really does act like a father to him and he wants Sy to be happy.”

“He wants you all to be happy,” She countered. “Why do I make Sy weak?”

He moved her leg and stood. “We aren't having this conversation.”

“I'm being serious. I need to know,” She pressed. “I love him and I don't want him to make a mistake.”

August turned to her, eyebrow arched. “Even if you're the mistake?”

“Yes,” She answered without hesitation. “I want to protect him as much as you do.”

“So you can do something stupid like run away? I get the blame and suddenly you're back together? I'm smarter than that girl.”

“I wouldn't run. Sy made me promise him after our very first disagreement that I wouldn't run until we talked out our problem.”

“Not a person to stick around when things get tough?” He leaned his shoulder against the bookshelf with his arms crossed over his chest looking down at her.

She squirmed under his judgmental glare but decided it was only fair to get asked tough questions if you were going to ask them of someone else. “No, I mean, not the way you think anyway. I've never thought I'm good enough for Austin. Always felt like he deserved so much better than me. He disagreed then and still does. When we first got serious I promised myself that I would tell him everything, every dark, dirty little secret and he would see for himself and leave me but h… he didn't. He told me that I blamed myself for…” She stopped. “The story isn't important but he made me promise to never try to push him away again and not to run because he would chase me to the end of the world if he had to and I believe he would.”

“Sy's on a ranch now. He's out of the game so it's different.” He tried to brush it off. They both looked at the front door when they heard Aika barking.

The door opened and the furry missile darted through the room and leapt onto the couch covering Deb in kisses. Soon enough there were squeals and giggles of laughter. “Mercy! Mercy,” Deb gasped between licks from the wet tongue of Aika.

“Akia, heel,” Sy gruffed in a commanding tone. Akia instantly went to him standing against his leg. “Good girl, yea such a good girl,” he praised giving her love and scratches. He moves over to the sofa and sits down next Deb giving her a kiss of her own. “You feeling ok?”

She nodded, “August helped me in here cause I was tired of being alone in there.”

“You were resting so well I didn't want to wake you but it's payday for the hands,” he explained.

“Did you bring me the books?” She asked, preparing to work on the payroll.

“Amy stopped by earlier and brought all the paychecks. She's been keeping the books since you were in the hospital,” Sy explained. “She jumped in so we could keep the horses fed and cared for and I could focus on you.”

“Oh, that was really nice of her. I'm sorry she had to do that but I'm all better now. I can go back to work.” All three men turned and looked at her like she'd grown a second head. “What? I am. Well I can,” She pouted and crossed her arms.

Sy kissed the top of her head and snuggled her close. “Uh-huh, that's adorable. You're getting better but no, you aren't well yet and if you even think about trying to work you won't be able to sit or stand,” he grinned, squeezing her ass for emphasis. His blood rushed south when she looked up at him with big eyes through her lashes. He cleared his throat trying to distract himself from how bad he wanted to take her right there. “Bet Auggie picked out these little shorts, huh?”

Geralt's bark of laughter echoed from the kitchen and August’s ears turned red as he sat several cans of soda on the coffee table. “I , she told me to get them!”

“Sleep pants!” She corrected. “And Sy's shirt.”

Geralt came back from the kitchen with paper plates, pizza and breadsticks putting them all on the coffee table. “It's OK little one we all know August is an ass man. He's been trying to get a look at you in tight pants since he got here,” he winked at her before grabbing some pizza and sitting down in a chair on the right side of the sofa.

They all laughed and Deb secretly winked at Sy. “I need,” She leaned over Sy's lap stretching to reach the end table lifting her bum up a little bit. She collapsed in a fit of giggles when Sy lifted the t-shirt up showing off her butt.

August growled as he flopped down in a chair at the opposite end of the couch with his food. “Fuckin teases, all of ya “ he huffed but couldn't hide his smirk.

They all ate their pizza while they joked and laughed, even watched a couple of movies before August left to go to Walt’s. Napoleon had a job to do for a few days so August was going to take his shifts with Mike until he returned. They cleaned up their messes and all turned in for the night.

~~~~~~♡~~~~~~

Will went through the house checking the doors and making sure everything is secure one final time for the night before he is off shift since August was there to take over. As he was walking toward the guest room he noticed Mike's light on and Door ajar. “Everything alright?”

Mike shrugged then grimmaced; fuckin shoulder. “Yea.”

Will stepped into the room and sat on the end of the bed facing Mike. “You know it's OK to say no, right?”

“So people keep saying,” he had to fight not to roll his eyes. He knew they all meant well but they didn't know what he was going through. They didn't understand. “I just need all this to be over so I can figure out what's gonna happen to me.”

Will's brow furrowed. “You're gonna be ok Mike. You've got people who are willing to fight for you, to take care of you.”

“I..,” he shook his head, “I can take care of myself. I just have to get out of here to do it. Do you think they really need me to testify? I mean they have Debbie and as far as my old man goes, his dealing with the gang should be enough to convict him, right?”

“If you don't want to testify, you don't have to. I know that no one has talked to either one of you about any of that yet. I think the hope is that there is enough evidence that it will speak for itself,” Will explained.

“Do you think they would let me visit my dad?” Mike focused on picking some invisible lint off his jeans.

“Walt can..”

“He said he didn't think it was a good idea,” he cut in.

“Did he say why?”

He shrugged again and growled out “fuck” grabbing his shoulder. “He doesn't think it's good for me. I guess he thinks I can't handle it.”

Will thought about his response for a moment. “I've only known Walt since the rescue so I won't say he's out of line. I'm sure he means well but I think you need to talk to Sy and Debbie.”

“No, I don't want to bother them. They have enough to deal with.”

“Kid, you know they just got home today right?”

Mike nodded. “I'm glad she's finally healed enough to go home.”

“They called as soon as they found out she was being released. You know that right?” Mike shook his head. “They told us to get you packed up so we can bring you home to them tomorrow.”

“I..I don't think that's a good idea. I should stay here.”

“Why wouldn't..”

“I'm pretty tired. Think I'm gonna try to sleep now,” he cut him off.

Will sighed and nodded. “Good night.” He headed out to talk to August.

~~~~~~♡~~~~~~

Sy jumped when Geralt stepped up beside him. “Slipping wolf?” the white haired man chuckled.

“Apparently so,” he finished fixing the coffee pot for the next morning.

“Security company will be here tomorrow at ten to start the security camera install. They've been checked out and approved of course.”

“I can't thank you enough, all of you…”

“Stop. You don't thank family, Syverson.” Sy smiled and nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the counter. Geralt mirrored him, leaning against the island. “You ok pup? Do not lie to me,” he warned.

“It's better since we've been home. It helps when everything is familiar and having Aika.” She hadn't left Sy's side at all. “I'm sorry you've had to deal with my bullshit. I just didn't want to dump it on Deb with everything else.”

“PTSD isn't bullshit,” he scolded. “Besides, they haven't been full episodes, just the oncoming panic. You..”

They both jolted and ran to the master bedroom aa Debbie's screams echo through the house, Akia even running and growling. All three burst into the bedroom. Sy turned the light on and went straight to Debbie while Geralt and Aika searched for foul play. “Hey, hey, shhhhhhh,” Sy soothed as he woke her from what was obviously a nightmare. She flailed her arms, fighting an invisible attacker until her panicked eyes slowly opened and locked onto Sy. “Hey, there's my girl,” he kissed her head and hugged her and could feel her body trembling as she clung to him. He repositioned them so they were laying on their sides facing each other, Deb curled against him. “I've got you baby.”

“T..they were t..t..touching me again.” Her voice was nearly a whisper. “try hurt you again,” he promised. “I know that doesn't change what they've already done but it's over now.”

Gearlt and Aika came back from doing a perimeter check. He walked up to the bed. “Everything's secure. Need anything?” He asked Sy.

“Try something?” He asked and Geralt inclined his head. “Lay down behind her?”

“I don't know if..” Geralt started but Debbie turned over and grabbed his hand before he could retreat. Those sweet blue eyes locked with his and it was like she could see into his soul and he couldn’t deny her anything. Kicking off his boots he climbed in behind her.

She snuggled between the two huge bodies and slowly started to calm down when they were all pounced and she was covered in wet doggie kisses. “Aika!” She chuckled as she scratched her ears. Once Aika was sure her human was OK she laid dowcryn on all their legs. Deb's shaking eased up and she turned so that she could see them both as her eyes got heavy . “Safe,” She said, yawning as her eyes slid closed.

Tag List

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@enchantedbytomandhenry

@mrsevans90

@summersong69

@mollymal

@warriormirkwood

@bloodyinspiredme

@kneelforloki

@liecastillo

@mollymal

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #syverson fluff #syverson x you #henry cavill characters #captain syverson fanfiction #henry cavill smut #syverson

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adder24 · 1 year ago

Text

Vigilante

Pairing: Female Reader X John Nolan

Rating: R cause my god I did things i didn't think I could write, holy shit. Authors note: Okay I think I am getting the hang of writing utter filth, it's been a while so bit rusty but hey...enjoy. Summary: You're the new vigilante in town, taking the law into your own hands and doing the work of the local law enforcement. You always manage to avoid getting caught, until one night you cross paths with John Nolan.

Tagging: @untilthe12ofnever @captkatecastle @nuggsmum @alwayscaskett810 @hellostickerdoodle @nikki-rook @izhunny @imwithyoualways @superlc529 @happiness-in-the-dark @my-happy-corner @idiotdotdotdot @moviesaremylife @dilfbatch

Please do tag on, reblog, do what you must!!! Story below the cut and can be found here

Being a Vigilante was your choice, you were a victim to a crime that went unpunished, Law enforcement couldn’t find enough evidence to put the criminal in handcuffs and allowed them to walk free. You felt betrayed by the law that was designed to protect you, the victim, which led you down the path of being what you are now.

You made sure that Karma was paid back to the criminal who made you a victim but you got the taste for it, the satisfaction from making sure a crime committed was dealt with swiftly and fairly. You never killed anyone, you only knocked them out or disabled them temporarily, long enough to hand deliver them to the police with a note that said “Another job done for you”

You dress up, wearing a skull mask to protect your identity, black beanie, Black cargo pants, T-shirt and a tactical vest filled with all the tricks of the trade.

You had your supporters and you had those who stood against you, determined to bring you in and make you pay for the crimes you committed in your pursuit to deliver justice fairly. Sure, you had a few close shaves but you always found a way to wriggle out of it but not tonight, tonight you slipped up, cornered as you chased down a petty criminal who snatched bags to fuel a habit. Of all the criminals to slip up on, it had to be one that did a basic crime. You followed them down a dead end alley, knocked them out, took the bag back from them and got caught red handed by a cop.

“Put your hands above your head and face me. Slowly!” You hear him bark

You roll your eyes and slowly turn to face him, half expecting it to be some old crotechy officer close to retirement but what you got was a middle aged man over six foot in height, well built and easy on the eyes. He had an authoritative stance and a stern look on his face, clearly not in the mood for any shenanigans.

“When will you wannabe heroes learn not to take the law into your own hands?” He growled as he slowly approached you “Get on your knees”

“You say that to all the ladies you meet?” You ask sarcastically.

“Only the ones breaking the law” He replied as he approached, slowly releasing the handcuffs from their holder, gun still trained on you.

You were compliant, allowing him to grab your hands and put them behind your back before he helped you to your feet. You got a good look at him, mousy brown hair, blue eyes, strong jaw, firm grip and a little authority about him. It was a bit of a turn on, a man that was able to take charge and manhandle you in the right ways and you could sense this one could take charge in bed, just by the way he guided you to the car and the hold he had on you.

He got the door and eased you into the back of his Patrol car, an SUV of some description, one that had plenty of room in the back and was quite comfortable considering.

“The Illusive Skull Face, finally in the back of my truck” You hear him say as he starts the engine. “Wasn’t expecting you to be a woman though”

“Women can’t be badasses?” You ask him as you quietly work on undoing the cuffs, retrieving the small pin you had hidden in your gloves

“Of course they can, you’ve seen the women I have to work with right? They’d kick my ass” He says, keeping his eyes on the road.

You smile as you wiggle the pin in the lock, getting a quiet little click to signify their release, you keep them on your wrists for the time being while you work on an escape and your only viable solution was to feign travel sickness, knowing he would need to pull over to the side of the road or endure the stench of vomit in the back of the truck for the duration of the journey.

"Hey…you think you could pull over, I'm not feeling so good" You groan, feigning the sickness as best you can.

"Skull face is a little travel sick? That's a new one for me" He says.

"What's your name?" You ask him.

"Officer Nolan. What's yours skull face?" Nolan replied

"Skull Face. You want your car to reek of Vomit?" You ask him as you slump a little.

"Not really no," Nolan replied calmly.

"Then pull over and let me throw up" You demand as you begin to fake heave.

The action caused Nolan to drastically pull over his patrol car, near an abandoned warehouse. This was your chance to make a run for it, escape the clutches of the law and continue to do the job they can't. You waited for him to open the door, for him to help you out before you made your move.

You dropped the cuffs and made a run for it, sprinting towards the warehouse, aware he would follow. You manage to climb the wire fence and jump down on the opposite side, landing a little awkwardly but managing to get back on your feet again. Nolan in hot pursuit as he made light work of the fence.

You keep running, trying to make decisions on the fly but not paying attention to your surroundings cost you, you don’t notice the discarded pole on the floor and consequently you trip over it, landing face first on the hard floor. Thankfully the mask takes the brunt but before you know it, Nolan took his chance, pouncing on you to stop you getting away.

You end up wrestling with him,rolling onto your back to help you flip him, rolling him to the ground putting you on top and a chance to run, but he was quick, as soon as you got him down he had grabbed you and switched positions, wrestling with you to get you back in the cuffs but you was having none of it, you fought with him, wrestled for some time, you even managed to somehow turn off his body camera before he eventually had you pinned. He managed to remove your mask during the tussle and this was the first time he got to see you unmasked

He paused as he studied you, taking a mental photo of you. You should have used that moment to slip away, avoid getting caught but that wasn't what you wanted. The struggle had got you worked up, his firm hold stoking the fire in your stomach, causing you to bite your bottom lip as you studied him, liking the fact he was in a commanding position and you sensed there was a little heat in that gaze he held with you.

"Your move officer" you say invitingly

A smirk spread across his lips before he leaned down and kissed you tenderly, his lips gently brushing against your own. You reciprocate the kiss, your hands snaking along his arms and up his shoulders while your lips fight for dominance. The kiss becomes more heated and it’s not long before you submit and part your lips, allowing his tongue to enter, tasting you and dancing with your tongue, causing small little moans to fall from your lips. You feel calloused fingers gently caress your cheek before he breaks off the kiss and puts his forehead to yours.

“I shouldn’t really be doing this” He whispered as he ran his thumb along your jaw

“I won’t tell and no one is going to know…managed to turn off your body cam” You purr as you start to unbutton a few buttons on his shirt “It can be our thing”

You feel him claim your lips once more, slipping in some tongue as his kiss becomes more heated, driven by a want and a need to punish you by other means. He breaks off the kiss and gets to his feet, pulling you up from the ground and leading you back to the car, looking around to see if anyone was watching but thankfully the location was quiet, no one walking around and there were hardly any cars driving by. It was a perfect spot.

He puts on a bit of a show just in case, making it look like he had arrested you and was putting you in the back before he then walked round to the other side and joined you in the back, closing the door behind him. You slide across the seats towards him and straddle his lap, your hands getting back to work on his shirt, making light work at unfastening the remaining buttons. You feel his hands slip under your top, his fingers tip toeing, slowly along your sides, reaching for your bra strap, grumbling when he realises you have one of them fiddly sports bras on, his reaction causing you to giggle a little.

“Need me to undo it?” You ask him playfully

“No…just tell me what it is, is it a zip at the front or Zip and hooks?” He asks huskily as he pushes your top up,studying the black sports bra that you have on underneath.

“It’s a zip and hooks” You reply as you remove your top and throw it on the seats next to you.

You feel him get to work, his fingers making light work of unfastening your bra, freeing your breasts from their material cage, He gently kisses down your cleavage, before his fingers start to gently tease and caress your hardened nipples. Your breath hitches in your throat, you can feel your nerves spark and spring into life, making you more responsive to his touch as you start to feel the bulge in his pants grow and become more hardened. You bite your lip and smirk a little.

“Officer Nolan, is that your Baton in your pants?” You ask playfully

“You wanna find out?” He asks in a seductive manner, guiding your hands down to his gun belt You grin and slowly unfasten his belt, carefully moving it to one side before you then unfasten his work pants, slowly pulling them down along with his boxers, giving you a good look at his impressive package in all its glory. You lick your lips in anticipation as you run your hands slowly along his inner thighs, pushing yourself between his legs, placing his hardened manhood in between your breasts. You then bend down and gently suck and lick the tip, giving you a taste of him while one of your hands works his shaft. It’s like music to your ears as you hear the little grunts and moans tumble from his mouth, his fingers running through your hair, tugging it a little, urging you to keep going.

You get him riled up, bringing the teasing to a halt, causing him to crave more from you. You run your hands over his toned body, feeling his skin erupt with goosebumps as he hums deep in his throat. You then start undoing your trousers, fumbling a little as you pull them off, somehow managing to remove them without taking off your boots, a skill that seemingly impressed Nolan before you straddle him once more, positioning yourself carefully as you kiss him deeply, letting your tongues dance before you lower yourself down, allowing him to enter, your silkened walls stretching to his size.

You let out a tiny gasp as you feel every inch of him inside of you. You feel his hands grip your hips, thumbs doing small circular movements while his long fingers grip your ass cheeks , urging you on. You bite your lip and begin to slowly rock your hips, a euphoric sense of pleasure slowly building as you move up and down his length. You can feel yourself start to clamp around him, drawing him deeper within you. You can feel your sweet nectar slowly begin to trickle from your core as he buries his head between your breasts. You can hear small little grunts fall from his lips as you place your hands on his shoulders using them to help build momentum.

You up your rhythm, pleasure consuming you as you feel him start to move in rhythm with you, the sensation causing you to moan in pleasure as you feel him begin to suck and lick one of your nipples. Your toes curl in ecstasy as you throw your head back, feeling one of his hands move up your spine, supporting you as the other hand gently spanks your ass. You yelp a little, the mix of pain and pleasure sending you into a frenzy.

“More” You pant

This time he spanks you harder, you cry out and then moan in pleasure as your body trembles under his touch. Your body feels electric as you feel yourself beginning to reach your climax, you can feel your juices oozing down his shaft, making it easier to ride his length, your tempo getting faster and faster as you become undone, your orgasm becoming similar to that of an inner, pleasurable explosion, causing you to cry out his name, your sweet nectar soaking him, listening to his loud guttural moans and groans as you become lost in a blissful haze while he rides out his own sexual high,

You have two, maybe three more orgasms after, each one more intense than the last. You’re spent and so is he as you both rest in each others arms, catching your breaths, skin glistening with sweat as you both enjoy the blissful state you are in, basking in the afterglow.

After a while, you find yourself claiming his lips momentarily before you gaze upon him in a seductive manner.

“So officer… Am I still under arrest?” You ask with a purr

“I think you’ve served your punishment.” He pants as he steals a kiss “You’re free to go Skull face”

“What you going to tell your boss?” you ask

“You overpowered me and got away” He says calmly, gently stroking your cheek.

You smile, stealing one more kiss as your carefully dismount him, grabbing your discarded clothes and hastily getting dressed, watching him do the same as you both steal a few more glances. You then open the door and slide out of the car, turning round to look at him, a cheeky grin on your lips

“Hope to bump into you again Officer Nolan, maybe next time you’ll overpower me” You say before giving him a playful wink.

You walk away from the car, confident and slightly cocky before you then disappear into the shadows once more.

#Smut #Fanfic #x reader #John Nolan #The Rookie #Nathan Fillion #Skull Face #Officer Nolan #Nolan #Filthy #Creative #story #story writing

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pascalslvt · 1 year ago

Text

Tangled Alliances

Summary: When faced with sickness in your community in an already post-apocalyptic world, it is up to the strained professional partnership of you and Joel Miller to embark in a perilous and difficult journey in order to retrieve life-saving medicine. With your destinies intertwined, shrouded in tension, you confront the unforgiving challenges of your environment together, gradually forming an unexpected bond. Will that be enough?

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader, f/m

rating: 18+, minors dni

series warnings:, pre!ellie, during outbreak, set in TLOU 2022, age gap (28 & 52), swearing, mentions of violence, also actual violence, mentions of sickness, heavy angst...., fluff, trial & tribulations, severe weather, a lot of fucking animosity and hostility, enemies to lovers ???, infected people, tension...TENSION!!!, bickering, copious amounts of alcohol, inebriation, y'all don't get along...but y'all also have to, smut!!!!...a semi-slow burn, anxiety, exhaustion, NO USE OF Y/N.

chapter warnings: Mentions of backstory (involving the death of readers parents), bickering, bad langauge, tess is mother, mentions of sickness and death, aclohol, sharing a tent (wink wink), cheeky morning wood, just a sprinkle of smut if you squint its not really smutty but not completley clean, bad luck ??, tension. lots of it, intrusive improper thoughts.

word count ≈ 8,3k Estimated reading time: 37 minutes, 4 seconds (225 wpm)

a/n: This is the first part of a series i am writing!! I haven't actually written fanfiction since i was like...15, so be very very kind and gentle and patient with me because i am literally just a girl.....i have dusted off the cobwebs & busted my writing out of its retirement to create a story to quench my current joel miller obession. This storyline is actually inspired by a dream i recently had and i am very excited to reeeeally get into the series as i have a lot of plans that i cannot share with you right now.... also sorry if the tags are wierd i gennuinely have no idea what the fuck to write. Part two will come pretty shortly (don't get used to it) because after i awoke from the dream i literally wrote almost 20k words in one sitting so im splitting it up and giving this one some time to see if people are even interested in reading more...please enjoy!!!!!!

Part One: Hostile Beginnings

You were nearly seven years old when the outbreak started. To you, the world crumbled before your feet in what seemed like an instant - shattering the very ground on which you stood. One day after school, you saw your own mother's jugular be ripped straight out of her neck from the mouth of your neighbor, an old and fragile woman who used to babysit you from time to time. Before running away in fear, you saw your mother bleed out, right there on the lawn you used to play in. You never saw your father that day, and neither did you ever again. You always accepted that your father's fate was that he most likely died in that little cubicle he worked in. Or that he now spends the rest of his life infected. Whichever the case, it doesn’t really matter to you, you don’t think about him anymore.

You got away with your life by the skin of your teeth that day. That little girl ran until her tiny legs could carry her no more. Your English teacher, Theresa, had found you in a ditch, sobbing. You had been wearing the same outfit you did that day in class, a purple shirt with a flower on it, along with some blue pants. Theresa didn't have the heart to leave the little girl behind, so she took you under her wing.

Throughout the years, Therese - or ‘Tess’ as you liked to call her - taught you how to survive this very unfortunate world disaster. While you were still young, she taught you to crawl into small holes to retrieve food or water, and to hide whenever you felt something was wrong. She taught you to trust your instincts. She taught you to be resilient. Resourceful. In later years, you were taught to use a gun, to mend knifes, to defend yourself - how to navigate this apocalypse safely.

When you got older, Tess made use of you in her line of work. Smuggling. And you were good

This is how you got to know the man named Joel Miller. A cynical, gruff man of very few words. But, he always got the job done. You and Joel didn’t interact much. Now that you think about it, you hadn’t met him more than.. what? 5 times before today? even less so had you spoken with him. Tess didn’t want you to work alongside Joel as she believed his methods could sometimes be…taking unnecessary risks. He could sometimes be reckless. And you were not a risk she was willing to take. Not yet.

Ever since finding that shattered little girl all those years ago, Tess always felt an unwavering, deep sense of responsibility to keep you safe. She owed it to you, and she owed it to your parents. You were now a full-grown woman, 28 years old - and Tess knew you had a strong head on her shoulders. With the years, the fierce overprotective nature gradually softened. She gradually unfolded her wings of trust, and sent you out on more and more jobs. But, it wasn’t until recently that she felt comfortable enough to let you work with Joel. Nothing big, none spanning more than a day or three. To her dismay (but yet also relief), the two of you ended up ultimately proving to be an incredibly efficient team. However, the two of you could not get along even if your very life depended on it.

It was a silent alliance. It had to be. Otherwise, you’d end up getting on each other's nerves and damn near kill one another. Joel always made it incredibly clear that you weren’t friends - he wasn’t there for pleasantries, he was there to finish a job. Not that you objected. The less condescending shit you had to hear him say, the better. You didn’t care much, either way. You were a professional - after all, you had done this since you were a child. This was your reality. You never had much choice.

Lately, a lot of people in your community have fallen very, very sick. It is some sort of pulmonary bacterial infection that starts off with a fever, and will leave you coughing up blood a couple of months later. A slow killer, but a killer nonetheless. Some of the older folk have already started dying.

“No, absolutely not, Valerie” you heard Tess’s voice come from downstairs. You just happened to walk past to hear it. “It’s way too risky”. These words piqued your interest. “She is our best option, and you damn well know that” Valerie, a woman you live and work with says, a stern undertone in her voice. You slowly walks towards them, walking down the stairs without making a creak, eavesdropping.

“This would take months to complete..” Tess sighs, adding in, “We don’t even know if we have that kind of time, folk’ are already dyin’. We don't even have no idea how heavily surveilled it is”

“Do we have a choice? We’ll run out of our own supply within a month if we’re lucky. They will all die”

Tess is quiet, you could almost hear her thinking if you listened hard enough. You enter the room, “What’s going on?” you ask

Tess stands still and shares a look with Valerie before looking at you, sighing and crossing her arms. “We have received intel that there is a massive supply of vital medical equipment as well as medication, medication that we need. It’s In a settlement controlled by some sort of… faction. They call themselves the ‘reclaimers’. Nasty bunch. We need the medication, and well.. If our sources are correct, which they haven't failed us before, it’d be enough to not only cure the folk round here; but we could also sell for an enormous profit. We could make a lot of money. Maybe buy a new truck. Supplies. Guns….”

“I’m in.” you say, without hesitation, cutting her off. Tess shakes her head, she opens her mouth to speak, but you interrupt her before she can “I can manage myself, you made sure of that.”

Valerie looks at Tess with a ‘I told you so’ look. “You’d have to walk for, probably, months on end just to get there and back. They’re west, somewhere in Montana, located deep into the forest. You have never been on a mission that lengthy, and it's fucking cold as shit - and it's only going to get worse”

“What’s our other option here? Let people die?” you ask, and pause. They stay silent. “I wouldn’t accept if I didn’t know I was capable of handling something like this, Tess….”

You look at each other for a long time. She knits her eyebrows together, somberly, and shakes her head. She doesn't know if she can let you do anything like this. Not because she doubts your ability - rather, she cannot get herself to put you in that type of danger.

“You heard the woman…” Valerie says smugly.

“Fine”. Tess says, slightly annoyed and probably feeling very protective. “I need to stay here and take care of some things, keep track of the radio and such.. Valerie needs to tend to the people here. It…It would be you and Joel.”

This takes you slightly aback. On one hand, even though Tess might think his methods are unconventional - she trusts him, and you trust her. Besides, you have worked professionally very well before and always get the job done. But on the other hand…it’s Joel fucking Miller.

“Months on a job with Joel Miller? Fuck me…” You scoff. Tess’s lips curl into a slight smile evidently trying to hold back her laughter. She knows the kind of disdain you feel for him.

“There’s no one else I’d trust to send you away with on a mission like this. Except for me, of course” Tess says, leaning against a wall. “Are you still in, even if it’s him?” “Well.. i don’t really have a choice now, do i?” you say, and they chuckle. “When would we leave?”

Tess pauses. “You’d have to leave tomorrow” she studies your demeanor, waiting for you to opt out. Hoping in a sick, twisted way that you would - since that would mean that you’d be safe. You don’t hesitate. “He doesn’t know…yet. But, I know him. He would not turn this job down. Besides, he owes us too much, he can’t”

You nod. “Well…he’ll probably be as pleased with working with me as I am with him” you say, rolling your eyes.

“It’s about time the two of you get over that little feud of yours” Valerie interjects, you send her a warning look

“Ain’t my fault he’s fucking unbearable” You point at her, gesticulating your annoyance already brewing by the mere thought of him. She shrugs.

“I’ll call him on the radio - let him know.” Tess says.

“With her?!” You hear Joel’s voice boom down from the hallway, annoyance evident on his voice. ‘yup. i was right’ You think to yourself, chuckling as you’re eavesdropping from the other room. They start start walking towards the kitchen, where you are stood. When he sees you, he nearly rolls his eyes, stopping in his tracks. “Well. Looks like we’ll be partners.”

You smile tight-lipped, nodding and holding back an eye roll of your own - trying your best to be civil. “Seems that way”

“We leave at 8. ‘Expect you to be ready by 7 forty-five” He commands. You nod at his instructions. ‘One minute of a partnership, and he has already taken the leading role. Fucking jackass.’ you think to yourself. “Better get some rest”

“Yeah, no kidding…” You mumble to yourself, sneering. He gives you a warning look. One that says ‘don’t start’.

Knowing there’s no point in furthering this conversation as tensions are already high, and you have months to argue with him, you turn to walk “I’ll go pack then” You announce, turning around.

“And try not to piss me off” Joel says loudly as you walk away. You just hold up your middle finger and leave the room. “Real mature!” He scoffs as he looks at Tess with a look that says ‘can you believe her?’, she just shrugs.

That night you packed all that you would need - supplies, food, weapons, a tent…the everyday outing must haves in the midst of an active apocalypse, also…for the cold. Of course, you are not a total stranger to it, living here in Boston, but you also know that the cold here won't compare to the temperatures you are about to face - as you know walking through the north of the US in late autumn, early winter will not be an easy feat - and in a little tent, at that. It was estimated you would be gone for about a couple of months, at least - which is by far the longest job you’d ever been on. But, it was essential.

That morning you wake up particularly early, to make it a point not to be late. Wouldn’t want to give Joel the satisfaction of berating you. You can already feel yourself wanting to spite him. Tess helped you carry your things down, not that you needed help, rather she felt bad for sending you to do something like this. Capable or not, she had a …. Somewhat motherly instinct for you. She also gave you the map with the places you’re headed, where you’re meeting the informants, where the safehouses are located and so on - and gave you the same rundown as she did for Joel, keeping the both of you informed. You are now stood in the kitchen, with your things in your arms. She paused and looked at you, having trouble finding the words, feeling herself getting choked up by the reality of the situation. Before you can diffuse the fears you see swirling in her head, she holds you tight. “You be real careful of yourself, got it?”

“Yes m’am.” You say, voice slightly strained by the suffocating tight hold she has around you. She lets go of you, and cups one side of your face with her hand, and smiles with glassy eyes. She shakes her head as she takes a step back, as if to snap out of the sentimentality.

“Now go and get that medicine.” she nods, trying to sound emotionless and strong. You nod and turn to walk out the building. “Oh, and… give him a tough time. Joel, I mean” She laughs

“You know I will” You wink, as you finally leave the house. Tess stands there with an awful feeling inside the deepest parts of her. She was meant to be the one to protect you, and here she is; sending you off to a mission where she doesn’t even know the magnitude of the threat it poses to your life. But, it’s too late now. Way too many people are depending on you.

You continue walking out, as you lean against the truck parked outside. You’re not going to drive far with it, only 10-12 hours or so. They wanted to transport it somewhere else to sell (since the ongoing surge of illness has eaten away at your community fund), and since it was on the way Tess figured it would not hurt to cut down the length of the trip just a little bit. You stand there for a while, until you check your clock: ‘7:46am’. You snigger by yourself. Without noticing, Joel was walking towards you, gear in hand

“Right in time, for once” He mumbles.

“You’re the one who is late, Joel” You correctly point out.

“It’s one minute, stop yappin’” He says, walking over to the truck, throwing his stuff into it and getting into the driver's seat, slamming the door. What a cheerful man.

You throw your bag into the car “I don’t understand why you’re the one driving” you mutter, getting into the passenger seat

“You know exactly why. Now shut it before I rip off ‘ya jaw and shove it up ‘ya ass.” He says, matter-of-factly, putting the keys in the ignition, turning it and starting the engine, looking forward.

“Ooh, very kinky, Joel” You say sarcastically, taunting him.

He puts his foot on the clutch, as he shifts the gear. “Keep talkin', and I'll leave ya here.” he says and starts driving.

“If only I’d be so lucky…” You mutter silently, watching out of the window as he pulls out on the narrow road through the tall buildings, keeping away from the major roads as they are heavily used by FEDRA.

“I heard that” He said, pointing at his ear, eyes on the road.

“I’m glad your hearing is working, old man. Gives us a bigger chance of survival” you chuckle

“Old man?” He asks, insulted by what you said. “I'll show ya old man if you don't shut the hell up.”

You roll your eyes, and decide to sit this one out. You know it’s not worth bickering, as you have a long, long road ahead of the two of you. “That’s better” He said after a little while of silence. You roll your eyes once again, deciding with all your will and might not to respond with a snippy comment, as you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of giving him the reaction he so obviously is searching for.

You two drive for hours and hours without saying a word, sitting in the thick tension that is between the two of you. It wasn’t necessarily a comfortable silence, rather a silence that comfortably didn’t mean you had to talk to him. After 7 hours, you can start seeing the shift in the sky, the colors indicating the impending sunset that's occurring.

“Maybe we should find somewhere to find shelter? Suns going down. “ You point out.

“I could work that out myself, thanks” He mutters. “We've still got a few hours left of daylight. Push on.”

“So I’m guessing your plan is that we sleep in the car?” You question, looking at him. He doesn’t leave his eyes from the road.

“Yup.” he says. Well, you couldn’t think of any better plan, to be fair. A truck is not a bad place to sleep given the alternative.

After about an hour or so, the car starts suddenly sputtering. “What the fuck?” Joel mumbles, as he quickly checks around the dashboard to see if there’s any indication as to what’s going on. You look over at him, quizzically. “Fuck!!” He shouts, hitting the steering wheel so hard that it honks, as the car comes to a halt. “That’s just…that’s just fucking great” He says, trying to restart the engine - to no avail.

“So much for your plan on ‘pushing on’” you said, looking out at the quickly darkening sky, mocking him. He looks annoyed at you, as he gets out of the car, to check the hood. When he does, a light amount of smoke seeps out.

Well, that sucks. But, you try to remind yourself that this truck was always going to be a temporary luxury, and you got 8 hours into the 12-hour trip. Oh well, more time with… Joel.. Sigh..

“Engines out” He grumbles, waving the smoke away from his face as he closes the hood again, standing and watching hopelessly at the car with one hand on his hip. “We’re not too far from the trucks drop off spot, guess we’ll have to walk the rest of the way.”

“So we just leave it here?” You ask

“Got a better idea? We’re in the middle of nowhere, nobody gonna steal it.” He answers.

“It’s your head, miller…” You mutter. He chooses not to answer to your snark.

“I say we still sleep in the car. It’s better than a tent.”

You nod in agreement “In the middle of the road?” You ask, looking at an already annoyed Joel. He grimaces, whilst he mocks what you just said

“No, you idiot, we’ll have to push it” he stated, looking around the road to see a good spot, and ended up pointing at a spot by some trees a couple meters from the road. “And it ain't an easy feat. Let’s see if you got the strength to push a two tonne vehicle, little miss”

You shrug. How bad can it be? Joel gets in the car and makes sure its gear is in neutral, as the both of you stand at the back of the car, starting to push. It takes some time, and Joel was right that it was, indeed, not an easy task. By the time you got the car by the trees you’re both catching your breath, Joel sweating profusely

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You say between breaths, holding your hands on your hips. He’s bent over in exhaustion.

“Oh bite me” He hisses. You try not to laugh. “We’ll have to leave it here, try to radio Tess somewhere along the way, so they can pick it up - at least before someone steals it”

You nod. It’s gotten dark, it’s time to sleep. So, you climb into the truck and start leaning back your seat to get as comfortable as you can. Joel does the same.

“So…” You say, breaking out the map. “We’ll have to recalibrate… it’ll be…what I'm guessing… 2 to 3 weeks to walk to our first meetup spot with the informants.” I sigh, already tired.

Joel nods. “I'll carry ya if ya get tired” He teases, looking over at you as he lays back in his seat.

“Right back at you princess” You answer without a beat, changing the pins in the map, folding it back and lying on your side, away from Joel. He smirks at your answer.

“Y’sure got a mouth on you” He says.

You roll your eyes as you close your eyes “night”, you mumble, ready to sleep.

“G'night” he lies back on the seat and put his hat over his face before falling asleep.

The morning after, you wake up in a stir. The car was very cold, and the sun was just rising. You look around, and find that Joel is not in the car. You blink the sleep out of your eyes, and realize he’s popped the hood to check if there's any way to salvage this car. He sees you move around your head and peaks on the side of the hood

“g’morning, darlin’” he smirks. Is he more annoying than usual or is it because you just woke up? You can't decide. You furrow your eyebrows. He chuckles to himself at how displeased you seem to be awake. You were, after all, never a morning person. “We gotta get movin’”

“Yeah, yeah..” You mumble, getting out of the car to stretch and go to the backseat to collect all your things. Sleep still in your system, the two of you start walking along the road. After a while, you opt to walking through some hills, as Joel got more and more paranoid of meeting someone on the road. You walked for what must have been…14 hours, only taking a small break to eat something small that Tess had packed, sitting on two different places and not exchanging any words. The sun started setting, the sky turning an orange tinge.

“We better find shelter..come on” He said, looking around and seemingly found a spot not too far away - yet secluded enough to sleep for tonight. He increased his walking pace in a determined manner. You follow along not too far behind. Suddenly he stops dead in his steps.

“Jesus fucking Christ” He whispered to himself, anger and frustration very, very evident in his voice

“What?” You ask, eyeing him a bit worried about his reaction.

“God fucking damn it” He whispers to himself “Dammit - I forgot my tent. We'll have ta sleep in the open. Hope you ain't afraid of the dark…”

“Speak for yourself. I brought mine. I ain’t sharing.” You say, resuming your steps.

“You're a real treat to travel with you know that.” He says, looking at you stood still, frozen by his own frustration as he is kicking himself for forgetting that damn bag.

“I bet I am!” you yell, as you have managed to walk a bit further along than he has. He sulks as he continues walking.

You both decide on a safe spot to make a shelter. Joel and you start instinctively preparing to make a fire and collecting anything that will burn. To his dismay, a light downpour of snowflakes suddenly fall from the sky. You look up and laugh at the sheer irony of the situation, the frustration of the day just piling onto Joel. And it’s only the first day at that. “Ain’t that a bitch, huh, Miller?”

“Gotta be fucking kidding me” He groans. “That’s just great”

The two of you start a fire, and put two cans of soup on it for dinner. He is sitting against a rock, drinking whiskey, looking as happy as you could in his situation (spoiler alert, he is sulking). You are putting up your tent, which you dutifully brought (unlike Joel) and you pause as you catch a glimpse of the sad man who seems to be very stressed with the current predicament he has found himself in. He is visibly freezing his ass off. You feel strangely bad. He can't sleep in this cold…

“Look, miller” you pause, he looks at you. “You’re going to die in this cold. Let’s just share tents. Ain’t nun weird.”

He scoffs, and looks back at the fire, taking a sip of the whiskey “I'm good”

You sigh. “Stop being such a fucking Stoic and get over yourself. If you share your whiskey, I’ll share my tent” you say. Maybe by making a deal out of it, it’ll be easier for him to accept your help, you thought.

He thinks for a while. He weighs out his options, as if there is not only one he can realistically go with - which is to accept your help. “Fine. Half-and-half?”

You nod, somewhat happy that he accepted, yet less happy of the reality - which was that you have to share a tent tonight. “Half and half” You repeat, nodding. You walk towards him and sit next to him.

He gets another cup from his bag and fills it with his cheap, illegally brewed scotch, and passes it to you. “That’ll warm us up nicely” He said. It tastes like piss and firewood.

“Aye” You say. “How did you manage to remember bringing your whiskey, and not your tent?” You ask, with a slight hint of laughter to your voice.

He huffed. “Priorities” He smirked, turning to you.

“Well. I hope you have brought enough to maintain your end of the deal” you say, taking a sip. He silently lifts his bag, emitting a number of clinking noises, entailing he has probably got enough to last him weeks. Maybe a week now that you are involved.

“Seems like an unnecessarily heavy weight to carry” you remark, taking a sip of the strong liquid.

He stays silent for a while. “You’ll understand it soon enough” is all he says. Not knowing what he meant, neither caring all too much, you shrug and kept drinking aside each other in the dark silence. You eat the soup when it’s done, too. You pulled your legs to your chest to maintain more warmth, as it feels as though its getting colder by the minute, a few stray snowflakes falling onto the ground and quickly melting away.

“Didn’t think you were so damn sensitive to the cold” he suddenly said.

“M’not, it’s fucking freezing” you say, breathing out.

“Don't think I don’t see you shivering, princess” he says, with a sly smirk on his mouth

“Right back at you, princess” You say, mocking the way he said it to you. “Don’t fucking call me that ever fucking again, by the way”

“Someone’s a tad touchy, ain’t they?” He laughs, taking a swig from his whiskey

“Shut up, Miller”

“Why? M’igetting on your nerves?” he asks, sarcasm swelling in his voice.

“Always have been” You quickly retort.

“I’d say it’s mutual”

You nod, as you kept drinking. The whiskey has become a lubrication for the regular anguish you’ve felt in the presence of Joel. Now you felt no more than subtly irritated. The drunker you got, the happier you were of the deal you did with him. You kept drinking in silence, until you’ve drained about a quarter of the bottle - which might seem like a little, unless you calculate the amount of food you’ve ingested compared to the whiskey you’ve drank. Your cup is, once again, empty - and you guide the cup towards Joel, who dutifully fills it with more.

“Here ya go, princess” he says sheepishly, and you turn to give him a warning look

“I’m serious Joel, I’ll knock the teeth right out of your mouth if you keep calling me that.” You say, rather aggressively.

“I’d like to see you try” He snorts out.

You decide not to answer, as he is clearly getting a rise out of antagonizing you. You roll your eyes and chug the rest of your cup. So did, Joel.

He, again, filled your cup. “You seem happy I brought the whiskey. Like you could use some of it” He comments

“No shit. I’ve got two to three months on a mission with you. And it’s only the second night” you shrug. “Not to mention that we have to share tents…”

“I ain't that bad” He chuckles.

“You’re drunk” you add.

“So are you” he quickly responds.

You nod, and sit in silence for a while - both, quite drunk. “I’m fucking tired. You tired?”

You feel a bit loopy from all the alcohol, but stand up and agree, walking over to your tent. The closer you get to the tent, the more you realize just how small it really is. I mean, it’s small for just one person, imagine how cramped it is for two? Surely, the both of you cannot fit in there - what the hell have you gotten yourself into? You think to yourself.

Joel walks slowly towards the tent as he watches you look into the tent, worriedly. He looks himself, and the same thought passing your mind right now has suddenly dawned upon his, “Oh, boy….” he mumbled

“Yeah, I know.”. You are both stood there, looking, for a while - until you initiate and climb into the tent, and lie down on the right side - making as much space for Joel’s body as you can.

“This ain't gonna be comfortable, not one bit...” he says, as he lies down next to you in the tent, in a clumsy and stale motion.

Your bodies are uncomfortably pressing together, without there being enough room to move away, nor was there to shuffle to a more spacious yet also non compromising position. You tried lying back to back, as it seemed the natural and least intimate way to lie next to one another, thus facing away from one another. Still then, there wasn’t enough space to spare personal space - not in this tent.

“God this sucks.” you mutter from one side.

“You got that right.” He answers from the other.

You groan, as you try to get comfortable, nudging your elbow into his back in the process. He huffs out of pain. “You're making it worse.”

“Shut up. I’m just trying to get comfortable” You say, feeling an unrest in your body - one that the whiskey was not strong enough to numb.

“So am I” He gets more irritated as you keep nudging into him.

Finally, you settled to lie on your side, facing away from Joel. He takes the newly found empty space and lies with his arms against your back. You groan. “Your arms are hurting my back” he does not seem to care, and stays silent. You finally give into defeat, as the mixture of the sleepiness and alcohol slowly seems to overtake your body and you both fall asleep.

Somewhere at night, you had rolled over. Joel was very warm, so naturally, subconsciously, you drifted closer to the source. With your face against his chest, he was softly awoken by the warm breaths coming out of your mouth, in small snores. He looked down, and saw you sleeping peacefully, right against him. He lied completely still, not sure if he should wake you up. The snores were not loud enough to keep him up, so he presumed that is the price he’ll have to pay to sleep somewhere warm tonight, so he tried closing his eyes and fall back asleep, repeating in his head not to look anymore at you - and just go to sleep.

Suddenly you wake up, the morning after, head plastered against Joel’s chest, with his arm slung around your body, and your arm slung over his shoulder. It felt comfortable and warm….strangely.. Good lying like that, but you didn’t know how to react. It was utterly intimate and had crossed the border to cuddling very long ago. And oh god…is that your saliva on his shirt? Did you drool on his chest?! You were so close to him that you could smell the stench of whiskey on his breath, no less your own bouncing from his chest and back to your nostrils. You were basically on second base with the man, without ever remembering if you fell asleep that way or if you had done it in your sleep. I mean hell, you barely remember getting into the damned tent…’we must’ve gotten very drunk’ you thought to yourself. You must’ve rolled over and not thought about it.

You lie frozen, unsure what to do in this situation. If you jerk too much, you’ll wake him - but if you don’t move… he’ll see what you are seeing as of right now - which is you two in an extremely compromising situation. Maybe you could turn around? But then it would border spooning…curse this god-damn tent!

As if awoken by your thoughts, Joel’s body moves as if he’s waking up - and in a hasty and rushed move, he jerks his arm away from you - as if he just went through the same train of thoughts you did when you woke up. “What the fuck” He groaned, looking at you in an.. Almost disturbed manner.

“Fuck.. Uh, mornin’..” You peep out, embarrassed. Kicking yourself for not acting faster before he woke.

“Morning” he says in a rushed voice as he looks around, slightly panicked. None of you know what to say, an awkward silence hanging over you. He is quick to peel away from you to climb out of the tent. “We gotta get going” he announced.

“Y-yeah” You say, sitting still in the tent, processing the situation. When you have mustered enough strength, you crawl out of the tent too - stretching as you stand up. You pack up and walk alongside each other in silence, might as well have been miles apart. The weight of your unspoken closeness from the previous night's ‘cuddling’ lingers in the air, you were both a bit thrown off, sharing the occasional glances at each other, unsure of how to address what had happened, or whether it was better left unspoken. There wasn’t much to say, to be honest. I mean, what was there to say?

You got quite accustomed to the silence, to hearing nothing but the sound of your footsteps, wet against the humid grass. You’d think that walking for hours on end without the distraction of conversation would be something that would bother you, it proved to do the opposite. Without it, It was as if the world around you had muted its colors and sounds, leaving only the barest minimum of sensory input - which made time somewhat fly by. The aching in your feet and legs slipped to the back of your mind. You wondered if Joel was quiet because he was doing the same.

You also wondered what his thoughts were regarding this morning, and how you woke up. You didn’t talk about it, that’s obvious enough…but, what was he thinking about? Maybe he didn’t think about it at all - it was, after all, innocent, you rationalized. Was he also trying to decipher the mixed emotions you were feeling without giving them too much weight - since that might make them real, after all? You can’t deny just how safe and comfortable you felt, regardless of who it was.

Joel spotted you glancing at him here and there, he was equally aware of the tension. He, too, couldn't shake off the memory; He couldn’t help but to replay the events of last night in his mind, wondering if it was merely a product of shared body heat or something deeper. I mean, he could have just pushed you away…yet the unexpected warmth of your body against his, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you slept, your breath hot against his chest.. It had been an intimate moment, and he couldn’t help but…enjoy it. However, he was as stubborn as ever, unwilling to broach the topic nor delve into the act itself. Instead, he focused on the mission at hand, pushing the awkwardness aside, shaking his head, not wanting to think too much of it either.

As you continued on the journey, the trees began to thin out, and you found yourself standing at the edge of a clearing, the sun going down behind a mountain up ahead. You looked at Joel, who seemingly had the same thought you did - it was time to find shelter. He took the map out of his bag and looked around. “We aren’t too far away from a safe house” he grumbled.

You nodded, taking out a map of your own, trying to help him in the search of said safe house. As you slowly approach the road leading to the building the weather began to change. Dark clouds gather in the sky, and the first few raindrops fall, pelting against your clothes. The urgency of getting under a roof became more apparent, so you quickened your pace.

Your breaths are visible in the cold, damp air, and the water has seemingly seeped into your clothes - leaving you feel colder and heavier. The cold made your thoughts kept circling back to the tent. The unexpected warmth of Joel's body against yours.. ‘God damn it. Get a grip. it's not even day four, and you're losing your mind.’ You thought to yourself.

Finally, you reached the safe house, which wasn’t what either of you had hoped for. It was an abandoned decrepit building, a relic of the world before the outbreak, with a roof that had seen better days. It was a stone building, partially hidden away by the tall unkept grass surrounding it, as well as tall trees huddling around it, vines growing on the walls. It was probably old 20 years ago, let alone now… The building was leaking from the roof and had gaping holes in the walls - making the shelter far from ideal. It offered some protection from the rain, but not much else. It was, however, better than getting drenched in the pouring rain and being exposed to the elements. You closed the door behind you and took a moment to catch your breath, looking around.

“Well.. This is the best we've got for now” He finally muttered as the wind howled through the gaping holes in the walls.

You look around and find it was pretty empty. There wasn’t any furniture, just a chair. Floor filled with scattered garbage and miscellaneous, dusty items from people who have been here before. The water is dripping from your clothes onto the stone floor beneath you, creating a puddle. "We need to get out of these wet clothes," he finally stated, his voice practical and no-nonsense.

You knew he was right, but the timing of it made it slightly uncomfortable. He knew he was straining on the already strange atmosphere that has been looming over the two of you since you found each other in the brace of one other. However, you also knew the reality of the situation. Your pride was warring with the necessity of the situation. The chill in the air and the knowledge of the dangers of hypothermia prevailed, and rational thought found its way back to you. You have months left to travel with Joel - and undressing in front of him to ward off sickness should not be an embarrassing thing, it ensures your survival and should be nothing more - is nothing more.

He could see the hesitation in your eyes, as you shivered, teeth chattering. He looked around for any dry fabric he could find within the safehouse—tattered old blankets and worn-out jackets. It wasn't the most comfortable solution, but it would have to do for now. He picked up a jacket. “Here.”

You nodded in agreement and began peeling off your drenched attire. Joel did the same, his back turned to maintain some semblance of privacy. Finally free from the soaked garments, you are quick to put on the jacket, zipping it, covering your body enough to feel more comfortable. You start wringing out the excess water from the clothes you wore, leaving a puddle of water there. You avoided even looking in the direction of Joel, who you know is (most likely) currently butt naked. Instead, you find a moth-eaten blanket in a corner of the room that the rain hadn’t reached. Shivering uncontrollably, you wrap it around your waist, covering your exposed legs. You could see a not so naked Joel who had found some pieces of clothing to cover himself, thankfully. He was now hanging his wet clothes against the singular chair that he moved to one of the few dry spots in the house, so you opt to do the same. The room was still far from warm, and the leaky roof didn't help matters, but, at least you were in dry clothes, if you can call them that.

You spot the ever so tiny wood burning stove in the corner of an empty adjoining room. You check if there’s any wood in there, and to your surprise there is - however, not much of it. Enough for tonight, and that’s all that mattered. You started a small fire and quickly huddled up against it for warmth. Joel walked into the room, as he’d seen the light from the fire from the corner of his eye. He nodded in approval as he silently walked towards you, sitting down next to you to also keep warm. You both sit there in silence, waiting for the clothes to dry.

Joel broke the silence, his voice softer this time "We'll have to wait out the storm here, and then we can continue our journey." You nod, agreeing.

As the night wore on, the humidity in the room strangled the feeble fire you had managed to kindle earlier, ultimately snuffing it out. The temperature inside the safehouse plummeted, and it became apparent that you couldn't rely on the fire for warmth any longer “Damn it” You mutter, shivering once again, trying to revive the fire - to no avail.

What was also apparent was that the two of you were so obviously treading around the one thing you knew would help warm you up, very much proven by last night. Unsure, feeling awkward, you didn’t know if you should bring it up. Proudly, you both sat there in silence. The memory of the previous night and the warmth that entailed lingered in the back of both of your minds. It had been an unspoken but undeniable source of comfort in the midst of the harsh world you inhabited, and now, with the cold seeping into your bones, and the urgency to get warm overtaking the awkward tension looming over you, the thought of that shared warmth became impossible to ignore.

Without saying a word, you shifted closer to Joel, seeking his body heat. Joel, initially surprised, looking over at you, understood the unspoken request and shifted to accommodate you. It was an unspoken agreement, a silent acknowledgment that you needed each other's warmth to survive the harsh, cold night.

With a shared understanding of practicality and mutual vulnerability, you created a makeshift sleeping area consisting of zipped up sleeping bags, dry blankets and whatever else fabric you could spare that would dampen the solidity of the cold, damp floor. This was where you settled as you finally lay side by side. You tried to find a comfortable position, mirroring the way you had slept in the tent the night before, with him against your back. Your bodies pressed together, and your breaths synchronized in the cold darkness, neither of you speaking about it, rather you let your bodies instinctively gravitate closer, seeking the heat that the other provided.

In the quiet of the night, as you shared body heat to stave off the biting cold, the tension that had lingered between the two of you began to seemingly fade. Despite the uncomfortable surroundings and your strained relationship, you both found a strange comfort in your shared warmth and the familiarity of each other's presence. There was no need for snark, nor sly remarks; pissing each other off. Neither did you have to discuss the somewhat uncomfortable, albeit innocent yet necessary, situation you’ve found yourself in. The cold was unforgiving, and your priority was to avoid hypothermia. You were, after all, nothing but two survivors making the best of the harsh and unforgiving circumstances given to you, finding solace and comfort in each other's company, even if it was unconventional.

He hesitantly kept his arms to his side. Joel broke the silence, clearing his throat, his voice barely a whisper, "I never thought I'd miss that damn tent." trying to diffuse more of the tension.

You slightly laugh, feeling a slight cramp in your body from the duress of the situation. The laugh eased up some internal tension you didn’t even know you were holding onto. “It was for sure warmer than this” You chuckle.

He smiled. And that was that. You were both admittedly exhausted, and drifted off into a very well-earned sleep, lulled by the heat radiating between the two of you. Secretly, you couldn’t help but to wish for the extra warmth that came from his arms around you, as it did yesterday, holding you impossibly close, keeping you safe in his big strong arms. Little did you know that he was thinking the same, but it was simply a line that Joel couldn't bring himself to cross. You had already navigated enough awkwardness and unspoken emotions that night. That didn’t stop him, however, from subconsciously doing so in his sleep - just as he did the night before.

Morning came, and you were awakened by the sun shining through the window, and onto your face. To your surprise, you felt your body be wrapped in the warmth of Joel's embrace. He must have instinctively put his arm around you whilst he slept. At first, you felt a sense of contentment. It was strange, but also undeniable. It was a reassuring feeling, knowing that he was there, holding you tightly - just as you had secretly hoped. But, as your senses fully woke up, you became acutely aware of something else - a firm pressure against your back that couldn't be ignored. You froze, your eyes widening in shock, and your heart raced as you registered the presence of Joel's erection pressed against your back. Joel was still asleep, as far as you were concerned. His breath heavy and warm on your shoulder, light snores leaving his mouth. Your mind raced as you tried to process the situation. You two had already crossed so many boundaries during the night to stay warm, but this felt like an entirely different kind of boundary altogether. Was this intentional? Or just a physiological response to their proximity?

Was there a sick, twisted part of you that engulfed your mind with fantasies of alleviating the pressure burning in the pit of your stomach with the (from what your back could feel was a very appropriately sized) dick prodding at your back? Yes. You were only human, after all. Were you going to do anything about it? No. You knew this was not intentional, not realistically. You’re a grown woman and know that he couldn’t control it just as much as you couldn’t control your deep guttural reaction to such an… event.

You debated over your next moves, unsure of how to navigate this uncharted territory. If you move away, he will wake up, realize he has a boner and think it scared you off. But if you lie there, hoping it goes away, and he wakes up with a raging boner still in full swing rubbing against you - he’d be mortified. Him, being a proud man would never live that down, and would probably not talk to you again, or at least not know what to say, in the midst of his own embarrassment. After yesterday, and the progress you made in your ‘partnership’, you couldn’t help but to dread the deafening silence that came with the impending awkwardness. You’ve been through so much already, and have yet to even get close to finishing this mission. So much left yet to go through. You have crossed so many bridges, this is just one of them. This was just a fleeting moment and not as significant as it might feel in the heat of the moment. It’s not a big deal, not really, just bodies doing body stuff. Or at least that is what you are telling yourself.

Carefully, you adjusted your position ever so slightly, shifting your body away from his rock solid member to relieve the pressure between your bodies, all the while ensuring that you didn't wake him from his peaceful slumber. It was a delicate maneuver to maintain the pretense of sleep, but you hoped it would be enough for you to potentially feign ignorance, just in case he was awake. You, flustered by the situation and the thoughts lingering in your (albeit perverse) mind, could not fall back asleep. Rather, you lied there letting your thoughts run wild. Couldn't hurt to indulge into harmless fantasy?

A couple of moments later, you could feel shifting next to you. Joel slowly woke up, feeling the oh so familiar throbbing that welcomes him in the mornings from time to time. Joel comes to his senses as he gently wakes up, quickly remembering the way he fell asleep against you and how much of a compromising position that would be for him right now. He quickly snapped his eyes open to see, to his relief, that you had moved away in your sleep, or at least so he thought. ‘Phew’ he thought to himself. He quickly sprung to his feet, leaving the room - hoping it goes away before you wake. He was not entertaining the idea of taking care of it, it could be too risky.

Him waking up reminded you of his existence, which filled your lust driven mind with an enormous guilt and shame regarding your thoughts. He didn’t have control over that, and your insatiable mind went and ran with it. You quickly shook the thoughts off and tried to think of something else as you laid there, unsure how to proceed..

You laid still until you heard Joel packing his bag. You took it as an indication that you were out of the woods, and had dodged a bullet - even though the both of you are flustered by it, without the knowing that the other one knew. You get up, and start folding the cloth and blankets that made up your ‘bed’, and walked out to the room with the bags and packed. Joel didn’t say anything.

“G’mornin’” You announce your presence. He, already hyper aware of it, hums as a response. You don't look much into it, relieved he isn’t treating you differently considering last night's sleeping arrangements. When you packed up, you put your backpack around your shoulders, your rifle around your neck and the rest of your gear clinging to the bag. You look at Joel, who is watching you as you pull the straps of the bag. You look up and nod. “Let’s go?”

He nods. You’re off.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #joel tlou #tlou serie #tlou series #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #light angst #light smut #joel miller x you #here goes nothing

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sushiburritonoms · 8 months ago

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New ETN/GT Fic

I wrote this for Matpat's retirement in March and look at me, right on time as always.

Matthew Patrick's Home for Imaginary Friends and Biblical Abominations

Rating: Gen, no ships, comedy, could be considered crack I guess

Summary: Stephanie Patrick has made a lot of adjustments and sacrifices ever since her husband came back from Everlock and has come out of the other side a stronger person. But six years later, Matthew and Nikita finally achieve the impossible and bring Joey Graceffa back from Pandora’s Box...along with something else. What do you do when your husband accidentally releases the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?

You hire them for Youtube of course.

Basically a fusion of Game Theory lore and ETN, featuring Stephanie, Jason, Tom, Lee, Santi, Amy, Mirror Matt, Ash, and a ton of other Theorist cameos and easter eggs. Its the new channel hosts as the Four Horsemen; this will NOT make sense if you don't follow the Theorist channels.

Fic Snippet is below the cut.

Hey Death, whatcha doing?”

“Go away, Fam, I’m busy!”

“You’re busy in MY space! Aren’t you supposed to be off reaping innocent babies or kittens or something?!”

“For the last time, we are GUESTS; you don’t own the space, you glutinous half-wit! Leave me alone!”

“Matt! Matt, Death is messing with your kitchen!!”

“GUYS! I’M ON THE PHONE!”

Stepping into her own kitchen wasn’t supposed to feel like a SAE mission. But Steph kept a flask of holy water and a crucifix in her Lululemon hip bag as she made her way over from the stairwell. The moment she made her presence known, she saw sickly green flames brighten to life in the blank sockets of Death’s skull face.

“Ah! Stephanie! So good of you to join us.” Death nodded his head politely and lifted a skeletal hand to tug at his black hood as though it were some sort of dapper hat. His upper-class London accent made the act feel less ridiculous and more like proper gentleman behavior.

“…Hi.” Steph was never going to get used to how terrifying it was to see green fire instead of eyeballs, especially since Death towered several feet over her and Matthew. Speaking of which… “I thought I heard Matthew’s voice.”

“He went downstairs,” a smooth voice chimed in from behind Death’s black robe. “With the other dude and the chick.”

Death snorted. “Eloquent and informative as ever.”

“She knows who I’m talking about! Now move your nonexistent ass; some of us are trying to work here!”

Steph saw a thick human arm swat at Death’s cloak, and the living personification of Famine stepped into Steph’s view.

Famine grinned at her with a very normal and healthy-looking human male face. Thank God. She would take his human form any day over the emaciated, decayed corpse that was his true form. Today, he was favoring a physique that had very broad shoulders and thick muscular biceps that strained against a baby blue shirt with some anime character imprinted on it. Matthew would surely know the show, but she did not. He had a round tan face with a salt and pepper beard and very mischievous eyes that were partially hidden behind thick black glasses. He eagerly held out one of her mixing bowls, which was filled near to the brim with something that smelled utterly delicious.

“I’m making snacks!”

“Thank you, Famine. That’s very sweet of you.” Steph couldn’t help but break into a smile. “Is this the same body you wore yesterday?”

Famine nodded vigorously. “Matt said we need to pick a body and stick with it. I like this one. Check out my GUNS!” He set the bowl down on the countertop beside him and flexed one of his thick arms at Steph.

Death scoffed. “Flesh is weak. Entropy is inevitable.”

“You’re just jealous because you can’t create anything other than the same lameo body you’ve had for centuries.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the way my human form looks. Not all of us are vain like you and Pestilence.”

“Excuse you?”

Steph jumped. A small, slender woman with incredibly pale skin and long black hair suddenly sat cross-legged at one of Steph’s kitchen bar chairs. She wore a shoulderless black halter dress that went down to the floor, to where Steph could see the tips of shiny Doc Martens peeking out. On her face, she wore black eyeliner to outline her light blue eyes, which were intensely focused on Famine. She looked completely human except for one small detail. She had long, razor-sharp silver claws instead of nails resting elegantly in her lap, like ten slim stiletto daggers just waiting to be thrown.

Death shook his bony head. “How many times have I told you not to scare our hosts like that? Don’t make me put a bell around your tiny neck!”

“Hmm, I’d like to see you try,” Pestilence yawned into the palm of her hand, her claws flexing across her face. They were filed into sharp points and caught the light in a terrifying way. “Sorry to bother you, Steph, but Matt was looking for you and said you needed to be on his call. He’s with the Vessel and Nikita.”

“The dude and the chick!” Famine shrugged. “I said that already.”

“You are useless,” Death groaned.

Oh. Right. Matthew had said he was going to call Jason today. She’d completely forgotten that was happening.

You can continue the fic here

#escape the night #game theory #film theory #food theory #style theory #gt live #matpat #joey graceffa #santi massa #dapper mr tom #amy roberts #forrest lee #mirror matt #ash gt live #etn season 3 #etn #etn movie #sb fics

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skele-bunny · 4 months ago

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No one asked for it but I'm gonna share it anyways bc I want to. Queued post don't kill me.

World Building!

(Specifically during Era 3 bc I can do what I want.)

CW - Privacy Violations, inhumane punishment

Despite Terzo trying so, so hard for his ghouls — to make changes to the regulations, to give them a chance to simply live, Terzo wasn't able to do much. He was so restricted. Again for example, have you seen those uniforms?? Terrible :(

Ghouls were monitored heavily, and still only really acknowledged as weapons/servants. They had duties and they had to perform, and if they were unable, they were retired or simply sent back. A cruel thing to many, but no one able to protest.

To even simply want to buy personal items, a form had to be filled out and could STILL be rejected despite it coming out of the ghoul's wallet. They made so little as is, but the rejection was truly a punch in the face sometimes. It was little stuff, too!! A band shirt, or one of those cheap necklaces, toys, anything ranging to even personal shoes! It could be denied. All those days of waiting and saving for nothing.

When Dew wanted to merge his and Aether's room, they had a GIANT packet to fill out. They had to list all of their items, why they wanted to merge rooms, why it would be beneficial, why it should be approved, and signed. The waiting process took longer than anything else, so much so that it was only after Dew's transition that their form got approved.

Very fuckin strict curfews, too!! Every morning and night, a Sibling would come in the den and do a roll call. If a ghoul wasn't in the den and claimed to be at work, it had to be double checked. If the ghoul was labeled as missing, they'd get SERIOUSLY reprimands like weeks of detention, or stuck with the weeds in the garden back to back, or lose a privilege like their cellphone. If it was super bad, then solitude. Stuck in a cell-like room with only a toilet, sink, and a bed.

If a ghoul was caught sneaking out? Immediate confinement for MONTHS until they learned, practically weeping at whoever's feet, that they'd never do it again.

Speaking of cellphones, they were confiscated a lot. Some of them figured out how to jailbreak their system and be able to consume media or go on websites not allowed at the time. A looot of privacy violations happened as pictures and texts would be gone through as well. When Pebble first experienced it, he literally cried in a Cardinal's office as his nudes were gone through.

Masks were strictly enforced if not inside the den, but even still had to be on for roll call or visits from humans. Even on tour, they weren't allowed to show their face to any of the stagehands/techs; glamoured or not.

Era 3 had the highest turnover rate simply because of sickness and torment inflicted by the clergy. Zephyr, Alpha, and Ivy all having their own severe illnesses that forced them to retire but still able to work; so somewhat useful... Delta who was literally mangled in the mind from being the first surviving elemental transition, left as only half of who they were — retired. Omega who's essence just simply burned out and he couldn't continue, try as he might (and he did try!) — Retired. Aether who eventually succumbed to his own fate like Omega in later years; but could still work. Aër who was stuck in solitude for years and years until he passed simply because he no longer wished to be a pawn.

There was a LOT of violence during the first 3 eras, mainly 2&3 from how exhausted and cooped up the ghouls were. Barely given days off, but always could rely on the holiday festivals (unless you were one of the unlucky ones still forced to work.) They needed enrichment and they simply couldn't get that properly until Copia became Papa, just as limited while Cardinal.

Needless to say, the Ghouls weren't always happy go-lucky and prosperous. There was a lot of favoritism and neglect going on, and it took multiple times and working protests for certain things to be done; such as accessibility and better living standards.

#the band ghost #ghost band #rabrev writing #nameless ghoul headcanons #ghost bc headcanons #cw privacy violations #cw inhumane punishment

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writingshushf1 · 2 years ago

Text

Lover - chapter 1

Summary: the next 4 minutes have decided your whole life.

Rating: +16

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, grief, mention of death, drinking during (unknown) pregnancy, mention of abortion.

Word count: 3.7k

Note: some fluffy mick x you baby fic! but it’s not what it seems- so, jdssjdjssjd i hope you guys enjoy! this one is already completed so i’ll post every 2-3 days, also available on AO3.

masterlist

APRIL, 2024.

“The smell here is very strong, not liking it.”

"You'll get used to it."

You were walking around the paddock with Sebastian Vettel; he was your godfather and the fatherly figure you had after your father died, his wife also played an important part of your life, you even spent some holidays with them. Now, he was guiding you to meet one of his “paddock kids”. First, it was Charles Leclerc, he was nice with you two, loving the idea of being important enough for the german driver. Then, it was Lewis, he wasn’t one of his “kids”, but a real close friend of his; the Mercedes’ driver was also very nice towards you. And the last one, Mick Schumacher. The other blonde was the closest to Vettel, you heard of him a lot, but never had the time to meet him, your dad hated the sport for some reason - it was ironic, because one of his closest friends was a racing driver.

The boy was exceptionally nice, yet very shy towards you. His blonde hair was tidy, his racing fireproofs down to his waist, showing the shirt of his team, your godfather told you that he changed from Haas to a new one this year, so his hopes were up for possible podiums and wins. The older german excused himself for a while and you had the time to properly talk.

“I heard of you, a lot.” You said, adjusting your cap.

“Same.” He smiled. “So… How come we didn't meet before?”

“Well… Seb is indeed my godfather, but my dad hated Formula 1. Or any sport that involves vehicles.” The blonde chuckled and you felt your heart flutter, it was weird, how fast you were feeling tipsy for someone you just met. “It’s ironic! I know!”

“Did you lie to your dad about going out with your godfather and ended up getting here?”

“I wish.” You smiled.

Before you could explain, he was back to you two.

“Let’s go to our seats? Mick here is the nicest person and gave us access to his garage .”

“I still can’t get over that you retired, uncle.” You said. “See you after the race!”

“See you, guys.”

You walked with Vettel and sat down. Media knew you very well, since you were a kid, even though your dad didn’t allow you to go on races, you would often be seen with Sebastian and his family. He liked to spoil you and in some way, you were the older sibling to his kids.

It was actually weird that Mick and you never crossed paths before, as long as you knew, his dad was close to the german. Maybe it wasn’t the right time.

Vettel and you were closely watching everything that was happening, the older would explain to you things that you didn’t understand. You found that the sport was actually interesting, however you were getting nauseous and your head felt like it was spinning. You grabbed your godfather’s arm lightly.

“Hey… Can you get some water for me? I’m feeling a little sick.”

“Yes, stay here. Anything else?”

“Some painkillers? My head is pounding.”

Soon he got back with what you needed and you could at least put up with the rest of the race. That was weird, you usually didn’t feel sick, or at least not that badly in the middle of the day. Sebastian kept looking at you, he was very worried about your state, but still cheered for Mick when he got P4. The retired driver explained that he was keeping a good pace since the beginning of the season and now it was the closest to a podium, they were hoping by the next race he would get into at least 3rd place.

After the race, you waited longer to meet with Mick and walked together till the parking place, now with only a few fans.

“So… There will be a gathering later, in Ocon’s place… Do you want to join us?” He asked for both of you.

“Nah, I’m too old for this, but you two should go!” Vettel put his arms around both of you. “ Especially you, Olli.”

“Fine! I’ll go, just let me back at my hotel room and change?” You said. “And we agreed to never use that nickname again.”

“But what should I call you then?” Seb loved to tease you with that, Mick looked confused at both of us.

“By my name!”

“Uhm… Can I ask why?”

“Yes!” Of course, he was going to embarrass you. “So, when she was younger, she used to eat trolli gummy bears a lot, but had trouble saying the ‘tr’... And I thought it was the cutest and refused to call her anything except for Olli.”

“I was four.”

“Still the cutest.”

“You want to kill me with embarrassment.”

“I thought it was very cute.” Schumacher intervened into the conversation.

“See? I’m a genius.”

“You’re too old, go to your hotel room to sleep!” You said, the three of you laughing.

…............................

You were nervous, no one actually knew you there except for Mick, so the moment you walked in with him, people got closer to him, talking and pulling him, while you stood there, being recognized as “the girl who Sebastian took to the paddock”. The blonde noticed how you were looking like a deer in headlights, so he got you closer and introduced you to people.

The night was going fine, you, Schumacher, three of his friends - that you learnt they were Ocon, Stroll, Albon and their significant others were sitting on the balcony, drinking different types of alcoholic drinks and talking shit about life.

“So, how could we have never seen you before? I mean, paparazzi pictures outside yes, but… Never around.” Esteban asked, he was drunk and genuinely curious.

“My dad hated Formula One, so he never let me be around it.” You smiled, remembering the memories. “I told Mick that and how funny it was one of his closest friends was a four time world champion.”

“Was? But you still go around with Seb.”

“Well…” That was the hard part. It’s been two years already, however it would still hurt you every time you have to tell someone new. You felt tears prick your eyes. “My dad died, it’s been a while actually.” They all felt silent. “He was sick, very sick and it got to a point that there was no way of him being what he was.” You sighed and felt a hand on your shoulder from Schumacher. “We didn’t know how his state actually was. Decided to turn off the machines, it was better than maybe to wake him up to see if it had any brain activity and see him suffering.”

“Wow, that was deep, sorry.”

“It’s okay! I’m happy that I spent the rest of his time with him. I try to always remember him with smiles.” You took another sip, feeling your stomach reject that, so you put the drink aside. “We should always remember people with happy memories, it’s how they would like to be remembered.”

“That’s beautiful.” Mick smiled at you, squeezing your shoulder.

“Who wants more booze?” Lance broke the sad moment because of his drunk self- and you were grateful for that.

Everyone laughed loudly and he got more alcoholic drinks for everyone, but you refused, taking the sparkling water.

“Are you ok, girl? Not the biggest fan?” Elena asked you.

“Not feeling the best. I’ve been feeling weird all day.”

“Did you check the last time you got your period? Maybe there’s a little Mick coming soon.”

“No!” You said out loud, hiding your face with your hands. “Girl... Just friends, nothing else.” You laughed along. “I hope that was a joke.”

You looked at the blonde, who had bright red cheeks, waiting for him to give you support on the answer.

“Yeah, it would be pretty weird-”

“I was a joke, relax you two.” Elena squeezed your shoulder in reassurance.

“And I’m not pregnant. Impossible. It’s been a while that I don’t have a nice time with anyone.” You cringed right after that, earning a sweet smile from the girls, who giggled.

“It’s ok, we’ve all been through that.” Stroll got on the subject again, being even more drunk than before.

“Someone will need to carry him out of here.” Albon commented.

“He’ll sleep on the sofa, probably.” Ocon spoke.

….....................................

It was around 3am when Mick offered you a ride home, he didn’t drink anything because he knew he was the assigned driver for Albon and Lily - and now you too, not that he hoped all night that you accepted going with him. You were the last one to be dropped off before he went back to his hotel. The movement of the car was making you sick, your eyes were closed, trying to not feel worse than you’ve been after that last drink. Your throat was burning and the sensation was causing the symptoms to be even worse; the car stopping and going back again was driving you mad.

“Mick.” He was too focused on the road and didn’t listen. “Mick.” You called again, which took him out of his trance.

“What?”

“Stop the car.”

“Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” You took a deep breath, however it was a bad idea. “I’m going to throw up and I don’t want to do that in your car.”

He quickly entered an empty street, stopping suddenly. You opened the door and walked a few steps, until you couldn’t hold anymore, putting everything out of your body. The german got out of the car and closed the doors, running towards you, pulling your accessories and some strands of your hair back. His hands were cold against your body.

“God, this feels awful.” You let go of his touch, it felt too much for you, everything was overwhelming in that moment.

“Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”

“I’m fine, Mick. Maybe that drink didn’t sit right with me. Please, just... Take me to my hotel, I’m exhausted.”

“Okay, but I’ll leave my phone number, in case you don’t want to wake Seb up.”

“Fine. Thank you.”

It still had twenty minutes before you arrived at your hotel, so you ended up drifting off and sleeping on the passenger’s seat. Schumacher was looking at you a few times, smiling at the fact you slept so quickly; he took some of the hair that was sticking to your face due to the sweat, but feeling your skin was cold, so he took his coat from the backseat and put it on top of you.

When you arrived, he squeezed your shoulder slightly, calling your name.

“Hey, we’re here. Do you want me to take you to your room?”

You woke up, taking off your seatbelt and his jacket. “No, I’m fine, I swear. I’ll only call you if it’s an emergency.”

“Right. I’ll believe in you.”

You walked out of his car, getting into your hotel room next to Vettel’s. You got naked and entered the shower, letting the warm water run through your body, calming your nerves. After a long time in the shower, you brushed your teeth and laid on the bed, saving Schumacher's number.

i’m alive, lol

going to sleep

see u

mick: thank god

good night

see u

…................................................................

The next morning, you woke up feeling horrible, with morning sickness, terrible headache. It felt like even though you didn't sleep. Normally, you would think this was some bad hangover, however, things were hitting you differently. One thing you could be sure, you weren't pregnant, the last time you did a test, it came back negative.

You got up, feeling the same as last night, running towards the bathroom and throwing up. Probably it was all the junk food you ate in those last days. You took a shower and changed your outfit; when you were brushing your teeth, a soft knock on your door could be heard.

"Hey, Olli, it's Seb. Good morning."

You smiled, finishing and going towards the door and opening to him.

"Good morning. How are you?" He walked in and opened the curtains before sitting on the couch.

"Me? I'm fine. I want to know about you. Mick left a message in the middle of the night saying you weren't feeling good."

"Oh!" He really needed to tell that to him? "I was, maybe it was the drinks that we had, they weren't strong, but I was with an empty stomach."

"You're sure? Yesterday during the race you were not feeling good either."

"That was the headache, you know I have bad ones."

He wasn't buying your excuses, but he let it go. For now.

"So what will you do today?"

"I was waiting to tell you this later, but… I got a new job! And I'll move to another country." Vettel looked at you, very surprised. "Uncle Seb, it's the one. I did it."

"I'm so proud of you, kid." He hugged you.

This moment made you tear up, finally getting your dream job as a manager in an entertainment company was a big accomplishment. You wished your dad was the one hugging you, saying that he believed in you and everything was happening because you were good. Before you could understand, the german was wiping the tears that were running down your face. He kissed your forehead, looking a bit too worried about you.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah, it's just… I've always wanted this, so badly and I wanted to share it with my dad, but he's not here…"

"Olli, I'm sure he's proud of his little girl."

"Thanks, it means a lot to me, you know?"

"I know. Can I tell Hanna?"

"Of course you can!" You laughed between tears.

"Where are you moving?"

"Well… For now, they want me in Monaco, most of their clients live in the countries around it."

"That's good! Mick just moved there too, Daniel lives there as far as I remember, Charles too. They're good people and will make you feel at home."

"Thanks, Seb. I know they will." You smiled. "I just hope I didn't scare Mick after last night."

"I'm sure you didn't."

Both of you laughed together before you started to pack your things.

"I'm going back home tonight and booking a hotel for next week there, in the meantime, I'll find an apartment. They want me working as soon as I can."

"That's good! It means they really are invested in you."

"If you say anything else, I will cry again, uncle."

"Okay! Okay! I'll stop."

Vettel decided to get back home with you, because you lived in the same city, close neighborhoods. That night, after booking the hotel, you started to pack your things, the most important thing that you would need to have on the first week at the new apartment.

You were feeling your body being more tired than usual, but it was a long flight and an even longer weekend you had, so it was understandable your tiredness. The sickness was becoming an obstacle now and it made you madder than usual, resulting in a broken cup and a quick visit to the hospital to get some stitches in your palm; of course that wouldn't stop your moving and working.

…..........................................................

Monaco, there you were. New life, new things and a beautiful view from your apartment after a week in a hotel. It was smaller than your old one, but it was worth it. One bathroom, two small bedrooms - which one would be turned into an office - an open plan kitchen with living room and the balcony where you could see the ocean. The feeling of being independent was amazing, especially when you thought that everything was happening because of your dream job.

Immediately you texted Mick. This past week you became closer and your friendship was growing, both of you liked that, because a new city could be lonely for both foreigners.

the view is awesome, omg

*attached picture

mick: how is your view better than mine?

are you jealous?

mick: maybe…

really?

you should come here then lol

mick: i don't have anything to do rn

if you let me…

im knocking on your door in 5

if you bring good wine, im in

mick: then give me 10, ok?

sure, ill get the snacks ready

mick: fine see you xoxo

xoxo

You got all the snacks into different bowls, most of them healthy because you knew that Mick was usually on a diet to keep his weight, even though the smell and taste of them were feeling weird for you. In 10 minutes, he was knocking on the door, asking to get in; you thought it was very funny how loud and noisy he was being, almost saying no, but then you thought about the wine and let him in.

"Wow. It's cozy."

"I know, right? I'm loving it here."

"Do you want to drink now?"

"Oh, yes! The first two weeks have been good, but it's too much work! I need to chill."

When he gave you a glass, the smell bothered you, but you ignored, trying to give it a shot. On the first sip, it was bad, but you could handle it; however the second made you gag slightly. The nauseous feeling came back and you put down the wine, sitting back on the sofa.

"Maybe I won't drink today. My body is not feeling it."

"Really? That's sad, more wine to me, then!"

"I'm feeling like I'm about to throw up. Again."

"Are you ok? The last time we saw each other, you threw up in a corner of a sidewalk."

"I'm fine, it's probably stress."

"Are you sure?" He was very worried about your state of being.

"I said, I'm fine! Mick, you don't need to get worried, okay?" You snapped at him, soon regretting when you heard his voice.

"Oh. Okay. Sorry for that."

"It's okay… I was rude to you."

Later that night, you were laying with your head on his shoulder, watching some random TV show, when you needed to get up to go to the bathroom again. For the fifth time in 1 hour.

"I'm going to ask you again. Are you ok? It's not normal to get up around every 15 minutes to pee."

You sat down and started to question what he said. He was right. It was indeed weird.

"Now you've got me. But I don't know what it could be.”

"Let's think about the most common problems and get into a solution?"

"That would be fun."

And then, you two spent one hour trying to figure out what could be wrong in your body so you were acting like that. And nothing would match, from the simplest to the most obnoxious diagnosis. This was getting boring when he looked at his phone and back to you three times.

"There's one possibility that we didn't think of." He said.

"Which is…?"

"Pregnancy. You could be pregnant. "

"What?" You scoffed. "Impossible. I did a test and it came back negative!"

"When?"

"Around six to eight weeks ago?"

"That was a very long time. A lot of times it could be a false negative."

"Mick, you're scaring me." You felt your anxiety crumble up into a pile; your hands were wet with sweat, your breathing was shallow. He held your hands, looking at you.

"You should do a test, just to keep this option out of our mind. Okay?”

"I'm going to buy one. I'll be back in 5. Stay here please. I know it will be negative, but I need a friend around."

"You can count on me."

The nearest pharmacy was walking two blocks down, so in less than 5 minutes you were in the elevator, feeling your nerves running up your sleeve. It was an embarrassing situation asking for the test when your French wasn’t the best. The worry was growing, you couldn’t be pregnant, at least not now.You opened the door, looking at him and walking towards the bathroom.

The next 4 minutes have decided your whole life. From the peeing on the stick, to waiting for the results and the shock when it was positive. You washed your hands and face a couple of times, trying to put yourself back before looking at it again.

You were pregnant.

From there, everything was slow, like your mind was denying what just happened. Before you could understand, your sobbing was so loud that Mick ran to the bathroom door, knocking softly and calling for your name. It took a few minutes before you opened and walked to him, letting the blonde hug you while you cried into his chest for several minutes.

"I can't believe it. Why? Why now?" Your voice was muffled from your face still against his hoodie. "I was having the perfect life and then… Boom! One night of fun turned into this."

"Hey, I'm with you, Seb is with you. We're going to help."

"It's not just that. My career, I just started it. Maybe they won't fire me now, but in a few months? Hell yeah. And I’m in my twenties! I’m too young to have a kid, I don’t know what they will need."

"I'll be ready to sue them and to learn with you about babies, kids, teenagers."

Between your tears you chuckled a little.

"You don't need to do any of that."

"We're friends, right? So I'll do anything for my future godchild."

"You're too good for me." You sniffled and looked at him. "Thank you, for actually wanting to support me. I don't think the father will want anything with it."

"You don't need to thank me, but maybe you'll have to tell Seb about it."

"Yeah, but as soon as he knows, the first thing he'll do is fly over here to talk about the options. "

"Options?"

"I don't know if I want to keep this baby, Mick. Abortion could be an option… But here I can't do it, in Germany either and I don't have that much money left after I got this place."

"Well… We'll work it out with the decision you make. Because you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because friends support each other on anything."

#mick schumacher #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher fanfiction #mick schumacher fluff #mick schumacher angst #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfiction

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