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steviewashere · 5 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 · 8 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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bruce-wayne-simp · 1 year ago

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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 · 3 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 · 8 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

@shellyshellshell

@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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skele-bunny · 2 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

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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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cheerycherrycandy-resurrected · 10 months ago

Text

Ghoulette Appreciation Week 2

Week 2: Stealing clothes

Possibly, the Abbey was haunted. There had to be a phantom haunting the halls (no, not that one) or some sort of ghost (not that one either). Either way, there was some sort of spectre stealing clothes from all the resident ghoulettes. Mist never had any chance to experiment with fashion when she joined the Ghost project. Now that the new ghouls have freedoms and finances she never had, their closets are the best shop in town. And best of all, they're free!

I'm starting to think my initial goal of writing more that 1k words for each prompt might actually be achievable... let's not jinx it by talking too loud!

Rating: General Content: domestic fluff, more unnecessary worldbuilding, Mist is the first ghoulette, a tiny reference to trans ghouls and dysphoria Words: 1291

Read below or on AO3!

It flowed through the corridors at night, undetected, and with it flowed a steady stream of disappearing shirts, socks, shorts. Items seemed to evaporate from the ghoulettes’ closets, disappearing as if carried by a Mist…

The Ministry had been in serious need of changes when Mist was first summoned. Not just the Abbey’s leaking roof, or the rising damp in the walls, or the growing rat problem. No, the main problems were with how the organisation treated the ghouls they claimed to hold so dear. If He had ever got word the conditions above, He would surely never have let His beloved creations leave the pit!

The ghouls, for there were originally only ghouls, were provided the barest minimum to keep their vessels living. All their food was from a canteen, all their clothes were standard issue and limited, they had no more freedom than was required to play the instruments they had been summoned for. Part of the reason some of the ghouls liked touring so much was the change in routine, the slight flexibility that life on the road masquerading as humans gave them.

Mist had been seen as a complication when she first crawled out of the pit inhabiting a female vessel. Half the clergy had whispered about how they had thought all ghouls were male, the other half had muttered about how they didn’t have the funds for a separate dormitory, should they send her back? Mist hadn’t cared for either point of view. In the pit in their hellish forms they coexisted without issues, why did it need to be such a bit deal here? She was just glad she’d got a human vessel that resembled her physical expectations – there had been rumours that vessels could get switched during summoning, with ghoulettes’ ending up in ghouls’ vessels and vice versa. She already felt out of place in the Abbey, at least she didn’t feel out of place in her own skin.

Mist had been provided with the usual band ghoul performance uniform, as well as a daily uniform, identical to that of the other ghouls around her. Identical in size, as well as style. She had spent her time while in the band slumping around the Abbey drowning in itchy, black unisex t-shirts, waiting for things to get better.

They had, eventually. As the Ministry gained followers and therefore funding, they had fixed many of the problems at the Abbey, starting with the roof. The ghouls had of course been left until last, but with the change of figurehead of the band, their new leader had pushed for better treatment of, as he put it, the unholy instruments of His voice. The rat problem had also cleared up around this time.

Mist hadn’t been in the band at this time, but she was still able to reap some of the benefits of the new policies. As a retired band ghoul, she had a “pension” of sorts; a monthly allowance to purchase her own clothes for wearing outside of official duties and Mass, as well as any other creature comforts. It didn’t stretch very far, but it was something.

The newer band ghouls had it cushy, by comparison to Mist’s experience. They had a comparatively large monthly allowance for personal items, clothing and entertainment, and even a pack budget for stocking the new ghoul wing kitchenette. The current band ghouls had at this point accumulated far more in allowance than they actually needed – keeping a full glamour became tiring after a while and they did that enough on tour so they rarely went out to spend it. This resulted in their wardrobes becoming increasingly bloated over time.

In general, the ghouls had no real concept of spending money on luxury brands topside – why would they? Human capitalistic ways were an alien concept to them. And with disposable income, the new ghouls had developed an attitude of “see it, want it, buy it”. Some of them who had been topside a bit longer had worked out how to use their allowances responsibly, while the newest ghouls Phantom and Aurora were still in the stage of learning what your card had been declined meant. In Aurora’s defence, how was she to know that the butterfly dress she wanted was custom couture and beyond the budget of even the richest of humans?

The older ghouls had gained an understanding of what humans wore, and what was even comfortable for humanoids to wear, and only really bought what they needed. For many of the guys, this was just t-shirts of other bands they discovered and jeans. Rain had however taught himself to budget in order to buy fancier items and flamboyant blouses. Most of the ghoulettes fell somewhere in between, Cirrus being the best at budgeting and Cumulus the most impulsive spender.

Mist could still only afford mid-quality basics with her pension, even as a creature from hell she had developed some human morals and refused to succumb to fast fashion like some of her other retired brethren, cough Ifrit cough. Instead, her shop was the other ghoulettes’ closets. Usually when they weren’t there to call her out on her brazen theft.

Cumulus and Aurora had the best selection of feminine clothes, so they were usually Mist’s first choice. She had lacked any of these options when she was summoned, and she loved to get her hands on items that fitted her and her body the way she wanted them to, in colours other than boring, plain black. Cumulus also had the best selection of loungewear and on chilly days in the Abbey, Mist was never seen without one of Cumulus’ fluffy hoodies.

Sunshine had all of the skirts. Mist wasn’t a huge fan of them, she found them a bit impractical at times, but loved the feeling of swishing them around.

On the days when she didn’t feel like dressing quite so feminine, Cirrus had many pairs of trousers. From nicely tailored dress pants (that Mist rather ruined the effect of by having to roll the hems) to floaty culottes, she always had something Mist could “borrow”. The day Mist discovered Cirrus’ cargo pants however, was the day Cirrus mysteriously had to replace all of hers, which seemed to have gone missing overnight!

The ghoulettes were of course entirely aware of what was happening. It was quite difficult not to put two and two together when something went missing, and then the next day Mist was wearing it. They didn’t care though; they loved to see her in their clothes. Cirrus had even replaced her missing cargo pants in a smaller size to fit Mist better, and left them temptingly at the top of the pile.

Each one of them had offered to buy Mist clothes at some point, many times in fact, but she always refused. For her, clothes were far more special when taken from her ghoulettes anyway. Being able to pick and choose things she associated with them, the ghoulette pack who had adopted her as their own, was the real reason she liked their clothes. The comforting smell of the previous owner lingering in the fabric until it faded. Strangely enough, the items would then reappear in the closet Mist had pilfered it from in the first place…

None of the ghoulettes have anything to say about Mist’s light-fingeredness, really they just love to see her in their clothes. Their own little wisp drifting through the corridors, surrounding herself in the people she loved.

#ghoulette appreciation #ghoulette appreciation weeks #ghoulette appreciation weeks 2024 #the band ghost #ghost #ghost bc #mist ghoulette #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoulettes #ghost fanfiction #em writes

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the-fiction-witch · 9 months ago

Text

Mrs Dawkins P14 - P17

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Sweet + Flirty

Series: Mrs Dawkins

P1 - P5 P6-P10 P11-13

I blushed but nodded, he came over and offered his hand.

"Would the lady like to take a walk in the moonlit gardens?"

"I would love to sir." I giggled as I took his hand, he helped me up and we walked down the porch steps and into the garden, as much as I wanted to hold his hand I did put some space between us as we walked.

Our feet made their way through the grass, past the flowers and sweet statues of the garden, lit only by the pale moonlight and the fiery glow from the windows of the house,

"How long do you think they'll fall for it?"

"A while I suspect," he chuckled, "People always seem to trust me,"

"I suppose you're a very trustworthy-looking man,"

"It's a perk of being a doctor," he winked,

"I suppose so,"

"So? May I ask what you do when you're doing when you're not doing this?"

"Ohh, Drawing."

"Drawing? Drawing what?"

"Anything, I find the form particularly facilitating."

"Do you?"

"Umm every subject is different I love to draw, and differences to use the lines and shadow to sculpt the muscles, the bones, all the little intricacies that make us function."

"Really?"

"Umm," I nodded,

"I bet you'd find surgery fascinating." He smiled, "Peeling away at everything until you see the very building bricks of people."

"I imagine I would,"

"Anything else?"

"My father likes for me to sing, and play piano."

"Ohh? You don't?"

"Not really. I find it boring."

"That's fair I suppose," He chuckled, "But I'd love to know what your life was like... before you came here?"

"Ohh, Well we lived in London before then Father made his money in shipping. Ran his business for many years, and figured he could make a killing down here, so down here we moved. We haven't been here long still getting used to the place, but I hope at least now I have some more freedom to go out and see the place."

"That's sweet, I'd love to show you around one day."

"It's alright I wouldn't want to take you from your work."

"It's no trouble I'd love to."

"Perhaps one afternoon," I blushed,

"You don't much look like your mother,"

"Oh?"

"You two hardly look anything alike."

"ohh... Uhh you mean the lady-"

"Yes?"

"That is not my mother," I chuckled,

"Oh?"

"she's my governess"

"Ohh Forgive me I-"

"It's alright. Miss Hardcastle My governess since I was a child."

"I see, So where's your mother?"

"Buried back in London."

"I'm so sorry Y/n," He said taking my hand,

"It's alright, long time ago." I said, "But I would like to know about you if you'll allow me?"

"Of course," He smiled as we continued to walk, "Well, not much to say joined the Navy at fourteen, stayed there for ten years and worked my way up to surgeon lieutenant before I left."

"Oh Impressive," I giggled, "under?"

"Captin Grimm, a Splendid man, took a lot of pity on me."

"Young though to have retired?"

"I fancied a change, and I could be of far more use around here." He smiled,

"I suppose that's true," I nodded, "You like it here?"

"I find it very palatable" he chuckled, "do you it here?"

"So far, it's been very pleasant." I nodded, "I admit helped by your kindness,"

"My kindness? Well, I am thrilled to have made your time here more enjoyable." he smiled, "How is your hand?"

"Much better now,"

"Good, I half expected you in your pearls tonight."

"I considered it, was told it would be too much."

"Fair enough, I must admit you do look mesmerizing."

"Ohhh... Thank you, Jack." I blushed, "You do look incredibly handsome too."

"My, I shall treasure such a compliment from such a lovely lady." He smiled, "I did my best, not used to this sort of thing."

"Well, you impressed me all the same."

"I did?"

"Very much,"

"I'm glad, this is the only shirt I own where the sleeves aren't stained with blood so bear in mind you will likely never see me like this again."

I giggled, "That's alright I prefer your other clothes anyway."

"You do?" He smirked,

"Ohh well I uhhh-"

"I think you've looked beautiful every time I've seen you," he smiled, "But tonight you are impressive."

"Thank you," I blushed, I spotted a small stone bench in the garden so I went and sat down for a moment, he came over and sat down beside me slipped off his jacket to sit it beside him,

"So, your father has any boys he's planning on having you see?"

"I don't think so, I'm sure there will be men tonight having since danced with me who will go to Father with their intentions and they'll visit in the coming days," I explained,

"Do you have any plans on telling your father, about any men who have taken your interest?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps?"

"Perhaps," I giggled,

"Will I be on that list?" he asked,

"Outspoken, aren't you?"

"Why bother with dancing around the point?"

"I suppose," I smiled looking up to the orange tree over my head, I reached up to grab an orange but my fingertips only just graced the bottom, He chuckled and plucked it for me handing me or orange, "Thank you," I smiled,

"You're welcome, So? Will I be on the list of boys you talk to our father about?"

I nodded sheepishly, "I can remove you if you'd prefer."

"No, no I'd love to be included,"

"You would?" I asked peeling the orange and starting to eat a couple of segments offering him some too,

"I would." he nodded taking a couple too, "In fact if you'd let me? I'd like to talk to your father."

"you would?"

"I would." He nodded, "Would you allow me that?"

"You do not need my permission."

"No, but still I am asking for it."

I blushed hard but smiled. "Then I grant it, happily."

"Is it something you'd want?"

"Very much." I nodded, "But I do not wish to burden you with-"

"I want to. Very much." He said taking my hand in his and making me drop the orange peel, "Y/n there is something about you that I can not deny, I have attempted to conceal it, to refuse it, but here I am outright accepting it. You have unnerved me more than any other woman I have ever met, I want to see you again. That much I am certain."

"I admit I feel the same, there seems to be an energy between us that I cannot name or place, I cannot refuse it, not at all, I am beyond certain that I want to see you again."

"I wish we could, but it pains me..."

"Why would it pain you?"

"Becuase I know if I do, these feelings will long grow."

"I do hope they would,"

"I know they would. every new thing I learn about you feels like an etching on my heart,"

"Ohh Jack," I smiled

"I want us... to be so much more."

"I- I do too."

"But I know nothing can come of it."

"Why ever not?"

"The world will never allow us to marry, y/n." He whispered,

"You misjudge my family," I blushed, "My father will allow me to marry whatever man makes me happy,"

"Then do I? make you happy?"

"Very much Jack," I smiled, "He cares only for my joy, and for the social rules. Providing all rules were followed he would have no problem with us."

He chuckled, "I am not too good at following rules."

"There would not be many, but would you try? for me?"

He smiled and stroked my cheek his callus fingers moved across my skin which made my heart flutter, "For you?" He asked, "I would do anything," he cooed before he moved and ran the tip of his nose against the bridge of my own our foreheads together, My eyes fluttered shut my hands held his and his upper arm, sighing in a sweet joy, feeling my heart race at the mere object of our proximity. "Would you grant me to break one rule tonight?"

"Which one?"

"Let me kiss you."

"Absolutely," I smiled,

he needed no other word, closing the gap between our lips for a soft and slow kiss. His lips were slightly chapped but smooth, I could taste the orange on his lips still, smell the sweet scent of his aftershave, the feeling is soft skin against my own, I closed my eyes enjoying every sensation, he pulled back our kiss only lasting a few seconds but we both knew it felt like more, He lingered close as we both took back our breaths.

"Oh my..." I blushed,

"Better then I had imagined." He smiled,

"So you imagined?"

"so many times,"

"As did I."

"It succeeded mine, beyond any imagination, did I-"

"You did. More the I had ever thought." I smiled, "Jack... You're kisses, though lasting a second made me feel like we had travelled to the moon and back."

"As do yours y/n." He smiled, "Will you let me take you again?"

"A thousand times more," I smiled closing the gap between us,

We kissed, slowly and sweetly with such admiration, without lust but longing, like we couldn't bear for this to end, our lips moved back and forth to kiss over and over, each kiss caused butterflies in my stomach, fireworks in my mind, I wanted nothing more than to touch him, to be connected with him in every day we could, as crazy as it sounds like I wanted to climb inside and be one with him.... god that sounds nuts but it's truly how I felt. and clearly he felt the same as our energy matched perfectly his hand slipped from my face to hold my hands in his in front of our chests. I felt so heavenly that my heart I could see the world burning around us and still I would smile. I could have kissed him forever.

but...

From behind him, we head a cough.

I pulled back in surprise hearing a loud cough, and quickly moved my hands away from Jack's, as soon as I opened my eyes I saw her.

Miss Hardcastle, stood having approached us in the garden, given the timing of her cough and her... very unhappy look. She had undoubtedly caught us.

Jack was confused I assume having not heard the cough as he looked disappointed, upset when I had so suddenly ended our kiss and now looked as if I wanted nothing to do with him. But he noticed my eyes and glanced over his shoulder, and he jumped as he saw her there immediately the colour drained from his face as he too realized...

We're fucked.

My mind began to spiral in panic, she was the most rule-abiding etiquette-driven person I had ever met, she would surely tell my father and Jack and I would never be allowed near each other again.

She cleared her throat again and stepped closer, "I think Miss Everset has had enough air now doctor, You best head inside wouldn't want you to miss the party."

"Yes of course." he nodded, He gave me a faint smile before he took his coat and stood up, as he past her she handed him a white handkerchief from the pocket of her dress, clearly for him to wipe my slightly smudged lipstick off his lips, he took it and headed back through the garden towards the house,

Miss Hardcastle merely stood there watching me, giving me no place to turn. She waited silently until Jack was out of earshot.

"Y/n."

"Yes miss?"

She moved and sat on the bench in Jack's place, she took my hand in hers. "Was this moment consensual?"

"What?" I asked,

"Was the moment I just witnessed consensual?"

"It was," I nodded, I knew it would be worse to lie to her, "It was consensual."

"Was it reciprocal?"

"Yes."

She nodded,

"Will you tell my father?"

"Tell him what?"

"About what I and Dr Dawkins were -"

"Why would I tell him about the doctor helping you catch your breath?" She asked giving me a small wink "But we should head back now." She said

"we should," I nodded,

She helped me up and we walked arm in arm back towards the house, "Mr Dawkins?" She asked,

"Dr Dawkins," I corrected,

"Ohh I see. Royal College?"

"Ex-Navy."

"Ohhh... Your father will certainly like him."

"I hope so." I blushed,

"You know his... particular mix of Sandy Cove and Caramel Drizzle does seem, familiar to me." She smiled wickedly

I blushed to think of the two paint colours I had combined on my painting a few days ago to mix into Jack's hair,

"From a recent... Easel."

"Perhaps." I blushed,

"I see, What shall we entitle this painting then?"

"Jack."

"Jack, I see." She nodded as she returned me to the house and the party,

I did a few more dances with the men who still wanted them, but the evening was mostly dying down, I did spot a nervous Jack being a wallflower to the party and I simply smiled at him which calmed him considerably, until it came time like any party where people seem to leave almost all at once, so father and I stood between my father and Miss Hardcastle close the door and bidding goodbye to many guests, my hand was even getting tired from all the kisses. But I did my best to hide my blush as Jack approached having put his jacket back on and clearly trying to hide his own blush. I did notice as he approached Miss Hardcastle shot me a look almost questionable as if silently asking

'This the one?' and I nodded in return,

"It was a perfect evening Mr Everset, I thank you greatly for allowing me an invitation." He smiled

"Of course, of course, my good man. You took such good care of my Y/n when we visited the hospital, always best to keep a doctor in the good graces."

"Quiet right sir, but truly I had an amazing time you must invite me to your next event."

"Oh you'll be on our guest list I'm sure"

Jack then turned his attention to me as politely as he could, "I thank you greatly for inviting me Miss Everset, I wouldn't have missed it for the world. It was an absolute pleasure to witness your debut and our dance is something I shall truly treasure."

"As will I Dr Dawkins," I smiled, He gently took my hand and kissed it sweetly but as his hand slipped away I realized he had left a note in my hand, I hid it as secretly as I could and luckily Miss Hardcastle was the only one to spot it so as I set my hand to my side she took the note from me hiding it in her pocket so I could use my hand still,

"Have a lovely evening, Both of you."

"You too Dr Dawkins," My father smiled,

Jack then left and for a moment Miss Hardcastle and I shared a look and had to prevent us both from giggling like schoolgirls.

We bidded goodnight to everyone else of course and once the last guest was gone my father took my hands and kissed my hair, "I do dare say that was a rousing success."

"I do think so Father,"

"I'm sure you have your list, I know I have mine."

"I do father."

"Very good, but it's late we will talk once you have had the time to mull things over in sleep. But I shall see you for breakfast."

"Yes, see you for breakfast, goodnight Father."

"Goodnight my sweet."

Miss Hardcastle then took me to my room and stood me in my mirror to slowly work at undoing my dress for me. Helping me get changed for bed given the various layers and complicated ties.

"I expect then we shall be seeing more of Dr Dawkins?"

"I do hope so,"

"I won't say a word. But I best not catch this sort of nonsense again."

"Yes, Miss." I nodded

"Good," She said as finally the dress was off me and I could slip on my nightie "Get some rest," she said as she helped me to the bed tucking me in and she headed me the note from her pocket as she shut off the light and shut the door,

I giggled as soon as she was gone taking the note still folded tight, I smiled and unfolded it seeing the sweet note clearly written in a rush I even noticed the paper it was written on was merely some ripped paper from my fathers office,

'Dearest Y/n,

Tonight has been utterly unexplainable, I wish my words could do you and this evening justice.

I do hope I didn't cause you too much trouble and can forgive me for getting us caught.

If you still want to see me, I'll come and wait by our bench in your garden tomorrow once the sun sets meet me there and we will discuss how we shall proceed.

I cannot wait to see you, and if I don't I shall understand.

Have a good night, sleep well.

My Darling, My Y/n, My 'hopeful' Future Mrs Dawkins.

Yours affectionately

Jack X'

I giggled as I read it unable to hold back my smiles, he wanted to see me again, he wanted us to speak of how to proceed, I was so immensely happy, the mere kiss on the page was enough to make my heart heavy. and I pulled the note to my chest almost rolling around my bed and kicking my feet with joy.

I had not thought about such a thing, but now it was all I could dream of, to one day be Mrs Dawkins.

I woke to the sound of the adult bird in the nest outside my window singing sweet songs. I couldn't help but smile as I lay in my bed, my legs knotted with my sheets, Jack's note still clutched to my breast. I lay enjoying the shadows cast by the sun for a good few minutes before I forced myself out of bed. I refolded the note along its lines and kissed it before I hid it in my bedside drawer.

I got up and began to dress for the day ahead, into my light blue day dress as I wasn't planning on going out today. I began to sing with the bird and sang the same sweet, beautiful song as I dressed.

"Good Morning Miss Everset." Miss Hardcastle said as she arrived to my room,

"Good Morning," I smiled as I sang,

She chuckled, "Who'd have known a boy would be the best way to get you to practice your vocals,"

I giggled a little as I finished my dress and put a brush through my hair,

"Breakfast is ready and your father is waiting." She said,

"Lovely," I smiled as I set my brush down and followed her down to the dining room, where my father sat in his usual seat eating his breakfast, he looked up, saw me and smiled.

"My, My, been a while since I saw you smile so widely,"

"It's a good day," I smiled,

"It certainly is my sweet." He chuckled,

The maid then brought my breakfast and I had a plate of fried eggs, hashbrowns, french toast and even some bacon. I thanked her and looked at my father questionably, He smiled.

"You don't have a debutante dress to fit into."

I blushed but happily tucked in after so long of waiting for some good food, We sat and ate in silence and once my plate was empty he got up from his heat and came to me, he offered his hand.

"Come my sweet." He cooed,

I took his hand and followed him to his office, He took a seat at his desk before he took one out of his desk drawer. I giggled and paced the room playfully.

"Now once you went to bed I made myself a list of all of the gentle boys I think would be good suitors going forward and I couple did whisper of potential intentions last night but I promised you I would not speak on your behalf and I did not say a word my sweet." he explained, "I'm sure you must have a list of your own those we agree on we can take steps, now to keep it simple Yes, perhaps and No."

"Yes Father," I nodded,

"Good girl, Now we shall begin, Lord Arthur Lindsey?"

"Remind me?"

"Very tall chap, smelt of roses."

I was reminded

"Well..."

"Y/n, I do not want you to lie to me, I don't care who you marry so please just be honest with me."

"No,"

"Alright, Mr Damiris?"

"No, too old."

"I see, Mr Small?"

"Too Tall, Ironicly."

"Mr Ryan?"

"Perhaps."

"Ohh our first perhaps?"

"He was pleasant enough,"

"Good, Mr Sapping?"

"Stank of fish?"

"Yes, the fishmonger's son."

"No."

"Alright, Interesting those were my top five candidates." He chuckled as he made notes, "Clearly I am not up to date with the things ladies like." He laughed,

"Perhaps not Father,"

"Well we push on," he said,

This went on for the rest of the morning, him listing names and us discussing them, I did my best to not be so tunnel-visioned and I did allow him to make up a small list of men I would allow us to continue to keep on the back burner as it were, just in case things do not go as I wish them too.

I even gave my father some names making sure I mixed a few others into my list. I didn't want to make it seem like my mind was already made up given I still didn't know truly where Jack stood, and I wouldn't know until I saw him tonight, if that would even be discussed at all tonight. I didn't want my father to think I was ignoring others, or focusing too much, and of course not letting him in at the fact I had all but decided before even my ball would only make him wonder why such an expense was necessary. Even if I was wondering that myself now.

"That is all?"

"There, is one more father."

"Ahh perfect last one then for my list, He a perhaps?"

"Uhh no. He's a yes."

"A yes? My goodness our one and only yes. Well let's hear it then who is the chap who's bewitched my sweet into giving out her one and only yes?"

"Dr. Dawkins," I did my best not to blush, fiddled with my fingers in the few seconds I waited for his response.

"Dr. Dawkins?"

"Yes, Father,"

"Alright," He nodded adding him to the list, "I take it he... amuses you?"

I blushed, "He does amuse me," I forced back laughter, I knew what my father wanted to ask but given society, our time, and our lifestyle, such a thing cannot be said between us even if he is my father.

"Will you allow me your ear?"

"Of course Father,"

"Money." he said, "Doctors don't make much money,"

"I'm aware."

"Your life would change, your lifestyle would be different, he it's very unlikely he'd be able to keep you in the lifestyle to which you have become accustomed."

"That's true," I nodded, "I thought you said I could marry whomever I wanted? a Lord, a butcher, a baker, a doctor?"

He smirked, "So already you think of Dr Dawkins in the terms of marriage."

I blushed and realized my error, "I think of all men who may wish to court me in the terms of marriage, one should not enter a courtship without seeing marriage."

"Good girl," he nodded, "Alright, I do say you can marry whomever you like I am not going to stop you marrying a poorer if that is your choosing but I just wish to discuss as we have the other men." He said,

"Thank you, father,"

"But still, I want you to know these things before any sort of decisions are made, as I said doctors don't make much."

"I am sure a humble life is one that I could return to."

"Doctors work often, weekends, weekdays, time off its not much to them. You'd be alone a lot, he would not be able to spend all his days with you."

"No, but we would simply be forced to savour every moment we are together."

"Doctors often are cynical, emotionless, it comes with the job you witness such horrors, such death."

"But you also witness life, the spark and fight of true humanity. And I imagine it gives them such a drive, such an unstoppable determination for each moment, to survive above all else."

He nodded, "Dawkins." He chuckled, "Mrs Y/n Dawkins, it has a ring I can't deny. Very good, He is your one and only yes. But we shall proceed with all as discussed and we shall we how the fruits fall."

"Thank you, father," I smiled going to leave,

"Y/n?"

"Yes?"

"If he comes to see me, and does all as he should." He said, "The shortest courtship I'll allow is six months."

"Good to know, Thank you, father." I nodded before I scampered away.

I picked out a pretty dress and brushed my hair, I gave myself a good perfume spritz before I left my room and headed downstairs but I was caught at the kitchen door.

"Something you wanted Miss Everset?" Miss Hardcastle asked helping the maid clean from dinner,

"Ohh, I was just going for a walk in the garden, before I settled myself to bed."

"In the dark?"

"I fancied a moonlit stroll."

"Alright, just don't be too late."

"I won't!" I smiled as I bolted out the door and headed into the garden, I held my dress above the grass as I walked as fast as I could without drawing suspicion back to the sweet stone bench from last night, under the orange tree, the little bench like last night bathed in a sweet white grey ray of moonlight. I thought of last night and felt giddy with excitement to see him again, to have his hand grace my own, to have our lips entwined once more, to speak with him about our plans, our future, a life we were to build.

I went and perched myself where I had yesterday, Plucking an orange as I sat for a moment I tossed it back and forth between my hands. Every second felt like an hour of wait, I counted the stars in the sky, the leaves in the tree, the flowers of the garden, and my own heartbeats that got slower and slower as my excitement turned to solo fear while I waited, but he didn't come and each time I looked and saw no sign of him my heart sank a little lower until it was firm in my feet.

Perhaps he has forgotten about me?

Perhaps last night was merely a trick of the moon and wine and once home he realized his foolishness?

Perhaps all of this was merely a joke at my innocent expense?

Perhaps, he was not coming?

Perhaps I had merely been foolish to believe him?

I sighed and rolled my orange away across the grass, I knew I would have to go back inside or else people would come looking for me.

My heart felt so utterly broken, my heart felt weak and frail, I felt so stupid, tears welled up in my eyes, and my hands shook, my breaths unsteady and sharp.

I waited longer than I should have, all in hope but as the hours ticked by he never arrived.

To think I had told my father of him, I had risked Miss Hardcastle telling my father for him, I had let him kiss me, I had let him touch my hand, let him break so many rules with me all of which if word ever escaped this place my reputation would forever be broken.

I was so, so willing... so happy, so blindly in love that ... I'd have given him everything.

I'd have committed here and now to him forever, I'd begun to build a life in my mind with him, I'd have sworn myself to him this night if he had asked it, I'd have packed my things and followed him away to a world unknown if he had asked it of me.

I'd have made him my world.

But he didn't come for me.

I wiped my tears and stood, I fixed my dress and started on the walk inside.

I kept turning back in the hope that he'd be there just catching me before I go but... I went in and up to my room.

I lay on my bed fighting back the tears taking his note and re-reading it making sure I was not been at fault but no.

Our bench, as the sun sets.

He hadn't come.

"I trusted you..." I began to cry, "Where are you, Jack?"

#tbs #thomas brodie sangster #thomas sangster #thomasbrodiesangster #tbs smut #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #tbs imagine #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut #doctor jack dawkins #jack dawkins #jackdawkins #jack #jackdawkinsartfuldodger #the artful dodger #theartfuldodgerjack #thearttfuldodger #theartfuldogger

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fatphobiabusters · 11 months ago

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Brooms by Jasmine Walls and Teo DuVall

[PHOTO ID: The title Brooms is in white all capital letters set against a night scene with a full moon. The cover features two shoulder up illustrations: one is a biracial woman looking away with long black hair and a large earing, one is a Black woman looking forward with a blue collared shirt and a purple biller har, one smaller shoulder up illustration of a Black man with a white collared shirt.

Two full body illustrations on brooms. One of a Chinese woman riding the broom like a surf board wearing a blue handkerchief, white t shirt and blue skirt the other is a Black woman in a yellow dress with one leg up in a stirrup and one arm out with a glow.

And two waist up illustrations of biracial sisters one in pink with glasses and braids and one in purple with her hair up.

Next to the girl in pink and the woman in yellow are the author, illustrator, letter setter and colorist names, in large text: Jasmine Walls, Teo DuVall then in smaller text: Bex Glendining & Ariana Maher. END ID]

Image from Goodreads

Overall rating: 10/10

I can't do a traditional pro cons list because I can't think of a thing I would have wanted different, outside of topics I cant "review" of course (more on this later). However before we get too far I need to lay out the setting so you know what you are getting into! This is a graphic novel about magic realism set in 1930s Mississippi. It follows women (and two girls) of color and their attempt to make cash doing illegal broom racing to make their lives, well easier for one, but also safer.

This isnt a utopia, magic is woven into the racism of the era. No slurs are used but subtle racism is depicted. There is a hierarchy of legality of who can use magic and what kind. It's a underdog story of solidarity and love, it has that "one last job and we retire" energy. While the young girls learn to harness their magic the police patrol, they are supported by a type of found family along side their blood family.

There is a happy ending I will at least spoil that much.

The blending of era and magic is lovingly crafted. For instance one character, Loretta, works as a laundress, she, like a lot of women in the time and place struggle with money and finds work where she can. Magic here isn't like the cheat code for easy living, she cant just magic the cloths clean and mended. It's a muscle to train and partner with not a deus ex eject button for every little thing. Each character reveals so much yet so little of themselves to us and there is an epiloge of sorts that delights the mind to want more of these characters. So I guess my point is, yes magic but also hardships and I've never seen it done like this before.

So all that said let me pull back on all the other things about this story and answer the question...

Hows the fat rep?: The characters come in many sizes, Loretta seems to be the biggest of her friend group. Her weight is never mentioned, no jokes about how a fat person could ride a broom! She's got a loving husband (no jokes about the size difference!) Billie Mae is the second biggest of the main cast perhaps more musclar than fat but is distinct imo in body shape and build and its my review so...she's different from Loretta, Lor is femme leaning and Billie is butch and here too there are no jokes it's simply a part of her design, shes the only woman on the team to wear pants. There are background and unnamed fat characters! You'd be suprised how hard that is to find.

This is very much a situation where weight is not brought up, it exists as a thing and thats it. And I appreciate that because fat peoples lives shouldn't be all about our weight, we deserve to exist with hobbies and interests and jobs.

Additionally: You might have seen that trend where people list off rep of a book and don't even mention the plot? Well I hope my introduction was enough to cover story and such because this comic has: visible and invisible disability rep, sapphics, a trans main character, and remember how I gushed about unnamed characters? There's also physical disabilities. The attention to detail while designing otherwise nameless characters is appreciated.

My limits as a reviewer:

I can't say if there good enough representation for Black women btw. For me this was obvious but I'm adding it just in case.

A main character is Deaf and due to the limitations of the medium the artist and writer had to imply signs. Consideration for the eye line of this character is given, she will bump and nudge people to turn towards her so she can read lips. I cannot say if this is a good compromise or not.

The issue of cultural appropriation could be had. It is mentioned that the author worked with the language experts from the Mississippi Band of Choctaw Indians, and in story residential schools are mentioned and briefly depicted. Was this respectful or enough research I cannot say.

You mighy find additional concern with the trans rep, it is mentioned that an outside source was consulted to bring authenticity. Related, a person was consulted about the Cantonese depicted. Was this enough I cannot say.

Individuals will each have their own feelings about own voices vs researched stories. There's no one perfect answer but I can only provide the info that's in the book to help you make informed decisions.

On Goodreads

#Mod squirrel #Fat book reviews #Brooms #jasmine walls #As far as my limits I'm just letting everyone know #You can read the same thing as me and find it lacking even if I loved it #Or if I thought enough research was done #You could find it wasn't enough

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sl-newsie · 3 months ago

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Behind Masks (Dr. Jonathon Crane x OC) Ch. 16: Back To Life

8 years later

“As Gotham mourns the loss of our beloved white knight Harvey Dent, a new villain has come to town. And they’re calling her the Reaper. The past years' gruesome killings have been tied to her, though her motive remains unknown.”

The evening news echoes through my dark apartment. The only light comes from the faint TV screen and the few candles scattered around.

“The Reaper. Hm. Has a nice ring to it,” I think out loud as I tug my shirt sleeves over my arms.

Meanwhile Selina’s made herself comfortable on the couch, stretching like, well, a cat.

“You’re taking this surprisingly well. If you’re caught they’ll throw you back into Arkham.”

I shrug and continue sharpening my knives. “So I won’t get caught. Or I’ll die first.”

What time is it? Almost midnight. I suppose I should retire early to catch up on sleep. Each day I scope out a new target, only to send their souls to God the following evening. Being a vigilante definitely takes a toll on one’s sleep schedule.

Selina gets the unspoken message and gets up to creep over to the window.

“Have you told anyone else about your new look?”

The reminder of my new disguise makes me smirk. “No. Only you know who the Reaper truly is.”

“Do you think Batman will catch you?” she asks before climbing outside.

“We’ll see.”

Batman is the last of my worries. He’s been dormant for years. Hell, he’d be a blessing compared to the living nightmare that fear doctor put me through. It took weeks to teach myself against the fear to stop waking up in a cold sweat, dreading the thought of him creeping around in the shadows. After that dreadful night I have a new fear to label. Philophobia.

Can’t say I’m surprised. Mom and dad never allowed love into my life so it makes sense that I stray from it. But to fear it completely? That fear toxin must have emphasized it. If my mind wasn’t broken already it surely is now. The news’ interpretation proves it.

Dr. Crane is smart enough to stay away. Anyone who watches the news knows I’m not afraid of slitting throats when necessary. The lingering question in my mind is did he really regret giving me that dose? Before I blacked out he seemed apologetic, almost like he was sorry. Could that mean…?

No. No no no. I’ve come too far. If love is something I’m supposed to fear and hate then so be it. Since Batman’s been gone the crime rate has spiked ridiculously high, which means more victims for me.

“See you tomorrow, Selina. Good luck with-”

She’s gone. So much for goodbye. My allies are far from what normals would consider friends but anyone helps. In one way or another.

I let out a deep sigh and collect my knives to set them individually into their case. Settling down on my silk sheets, the promise of sleep sounds too good to be true.

General POV

Dr. Prentiss is not the only one who’s been thinking about Dr. Crane. Once word got around of his attempts of drugging her, Ivy and Nigma never stopped searching for the madman. Their threats are enough to keep him at bay but he was bound to slip up soon. Tonight is that night. A sloppy robbery from a drugstore gave Ivy the intel to track him to his lab.

“He’s in there?” Harley points at the subway entrance with her popgun.

“He’s in there,” Ivy repeats with venom in her tone. “Remember. Talk first, punish later.”

They descend into the dreary tunnels. It doesn't take a genius to spot the footprints on the dusty cement. They lead to a single door hidden away next to the tracks.

Harley sprints up to the door, busting it open and cartwheeling inside. “Crane! You in here? Johnny boy! Where are-?”

“Uh-oh.”

Isley’s voice draws attention to the back of the office. Walking closer, one can see the faint marks of fingernail scratches along the wall. All light is extinguished save one single flood light shining down on a medical chair. On this chair a body is draped across. Dr. Jonathan Crane.

Harley slowly leans in to examine the doctor’s limp form. “Did he go too far?”

His eyes are open but show no sign of recognition. His vitals show signs of life but he does nothing to address his surprise visitors. Ivy snaps her fingers to get a response but he remains still, muttering undecipherable sentences. His glasses lie forgotten on the cold floor.

“I don’t know if it’s drug-induced or if it’s his own trauma. He’s in pretty deep.” She shakes him and he continues murmuring nonsense.

“Someone needs to get him out,” Harley points out, concerned for the familiar Arkham doctor.

Deep down the botanist knows she’s right. Crane’s a maniac and a despicable monster to prey on Callie, but this… This isn’t him. Perhaps this thing is the monster behind Crane’s madness. What he fears most.

“You’re right. Time to make a call.”

Ivy walks back to Crane’s desk and begins dialing his phone.

“Callie?”

“Callie.”

Calico’s POV

Ring ring!

Sleep really is too good to be true. Even my phone doesn’t want me to be at peace.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.” I pull my slumped figure out of bed and trudge to the ringing device. “Hello?”

“Callie, it’s Ivy. There’s a bit of a situation.”

Just my luck. “How does it concern me?”

“I know it’s late, and I know that you’ve been occupied-”

I’m getting impatient. “Ivy. What is it?”

Silence ticks by. I can hear her breathing on the other end. “Callie… Dr. Crane had an incident.”

Everything jumps. My eyes flash, my pulse races. Just the mention of that man fills me with both rage and intrigue.

“Why me?” I mutter darkly. “Why call me, Ivy?”

More silence. “Because you’re the only one who can save his life.”

I’m going to hate myself after this. All this fuss of plotting and killing for justice, and yet I still come crawling back to my old morals. I guess my good deed for the week will be helping Crane out of whatever dark place he’s crawled into. Mental or otherwise.

I check the address Ivy gave me. He’s certainly gone down hill. Rumor has it that a fire led to the destruction of his lab near the docks so now he’s made camp here. Beneath the city next to the subway tracks. Stuffy, musty. Full of webs. One might mistake it for a mausoleum. A tomb.

Can’t say that the place hasn’t caught my interest. But the idea of helping this man sends shivers down my spine. I harness my courage and make my way down into the inky darkness. Up ahead a flood light beacons me closer. Into an office of sorts. Now I can see Ivy and Harley waiting for me.

“I’m here.”

Both women keep quiet. Their only form of greeting is Harley pointing at a nearby chair. One with a body in it. Dr. Crane. He does not look well.

“What happened?” I ask as I examine his limp form. He’s awake, but not aware of us.

“Found him passed out in the chair,” Ivy explains. “Don’t know how long he’s been out. Or if he’ll ever wake up.”

Harley nods repeatedly. “Vitals are helter-skelter. He needs morphine.”

Morphine? Oh please. A little pain can go a long way.

“Crane! Snap out of it!” I give a quick slap to his face. He remains still but now his glazed eyes are fixed on me.

“Scarecrow…” he murmurs, his voice laced with fear.

Harley gasps. “Look! He recognizes you! Try something!”

Deep breath, Prentiss. It’s time to rechannel your therapist mode. God, it’s been a while.

I adapt a calm tone and reach out with both hands to gently touch his pale face. “Jonathan. Look at me, Jonathan. You need to come back now. Can you hear me?” He gives a slow nod. “Good. Follow my voice.”

His eyes never stray from my face. “H-Hello?”

“Hello, Jonathan. Can you see me now?”

Now his eyes are beginning to clear, searching my face. His body is also coming back to life.

“Calico?”

“Yes. It’s me.”

Dr. Crane lets out a relieved sigh and his eyes finally close, his body leaning back to rest in the chair. I guess my soft side is not completely useless after all.

“He’s back, just unconscious.” I look around and decide that it’s best to not try to move him. “He needs to rest. I’ll keep him here.”

Harley understands right away and starts walking out but Ivy’s still perplexed.

“How did you do that?”

I set aside my knapsack and begin setting out the few weapons and medical supplies I’ve brought. “I’ve witnessed first hand what his toxin does. You need a strong will or an outside voice to get out.”

She hums. “Crane must really trust you. Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

I give her a small smile. “I’ve seen worse. He’ll be fine.”

Ivy nods and follows Harley back out into the tunnels. Now that I’m alone I can get a better look at the surroundings I’m dealing with. A single desk, a cot, a table crowded with chemistry equipment, and lots of scattered papers. One that catches my eye is a scrap of paper that contains familiar handwriting. Not Crane’s, no. It’s Nigma’s. One of his riddles. A familiar one.

I’m not a flower, but I bloom in the heart.

In many stories, I play a part.

I can make you cry, or make you smile,

Through hate or sadness I reconcile.

The answer is love. Wait. Love? That’s out of the question. Dr. Crane does not love. If this is Nigma’s idea of a joke he hit the target spot-on.

It’s a good thing I wore appropriate attire: a black scrubs uniform with long sleeves. I can attend to my new patient accordingly. He looks almost… innocent. No scowl, no taunting smirk. After all these years he’s kept his stunning good looks, but still picked up a few worry lines on his brow. How has it been so long?

For now I guess he can sleep in the chair. The patient himself sleeps for a solid hour before he starts to stir. He tries to scramble up but fails miserably, crashing back into the chair.

“Thank God you’re awake,” I drone as he rubs his head. “I was afraid my life was going to get boring with you sleeping all the time.”

No response. Is he still confused-? What the heck is he staring at? Crane’s scanning me up and down like I’m a mirage.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

A smirk grows on his face. “Because the image of you in scrubs carrying a syringe is turning me on far more than what any lingerie would do.”

Still the same cheeky bastard.

“Flattering,” I joke in a monotone voice. “Would you prefer I take your vitals as well to heighten the mood?”

“I can’t tell if you’re serious or just playing along,” Dr. Crane chuckles and sits up straighter, getting a feel of his bearings.

“Care to tell me why Ivy had to wake me up in the middle of the night to come save you?” I ask as I feel for his pulse.

“Ha. You having to save me…” he laughs and puts his glasses back on.

He’s still hiding it. But I’m not going to let it go this time.

“Jonathon.” I’m still testing his first name. He seems new to it too. “You were almost gone.”

There’s a deeper meaning behind my simple words. We both know it. As hard as it was for him to admit why he saved me from Nigma’s trap, it’s been an even more troubling challenge for me to come to terms with my feelings for him.

He drugged you. Yes. You prove to himself that he didn’t care. But then he gave me the antidote. He kept a distance… from the blade of my knife.

I sit down in the swivel chair next to him. Crane takes a deep breath and slowly lifts his head to look at me.

“A scarecrow. That’s all I could see. Staring up at those flaming yellow eyes…”

Just like my own hallucination. “Your father’s obsession with fear drove you to this. It’s not your fault.”

Those unblinking blue eyes stare straight through me. Did I strike a nerve?

“I thought conquering fear would benefit Gotham… I still do.”

“Is that why you tested on yourself?” I ask softly.

He bites his tongue. “Not just that, but… yes.”

I slowly inch my hand over to his. Not grabbing it, just ghosting near enough so he can decide. He takes it. His pale hand, unsurprisingly, is ice cold.

“If we continue to improve medical technology to avoid death, then the stress and anxiety it causes will just lead to a longer, less enjoyable life. We are unintentionally taught that death is seen as an unavoidable impending doom that is uncertain and frightful rather than a spiritually enlightening experience.”

“Here we go, another death lecture,” Crane pokes lightly. But he is still intrigued.

“I think that healthcare advancements that influence pain relief are a big part in creating a better quality of life, however I feel that we should still discuss death as an eventual thing and not as something that could be avoided through massive medical achievements. Some people have a determined mindset that medicine can prevent death, and this should be discussed thoroughly in order to delete false hope.”

Crane squeezes my hand and I turn to meet his eyes again. “That is why I use the improvements in medicine to help others embrace their fear. If they can’t handle it, that helps thin the herd.”

Thin the herd. Almost sounds like my own plan for Gotham. Only I determine my targets through their sins, not their fears.

A flash of pink catches my eye. Near the desk. Is that? No, it can’t…

“You kept my rose,” I whisper in disbelief.

Crane sees where I’m looking. “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

Such a small gesture, yet one that speaks volumes to me. One that almost reminds me of how innocent I was back then.

“I can’t believe you still have it. It was just a therapy exercise.”

“I thought it was more than that, Calico.” My name. “You gave it to me. Not Isley, not Nigma. Me.”

Thump thump thump. It’s happening all over again. Only this time instead of facing a hallucination, it’s real. Pull it together, Prentiss! You’re a pair of twisted minds! Neither of us can have- whatever this is.

“Do you find that off-putting?” I hear Crane ask after I freeze up.

“N-No. I… I just didn’t take you for a sentimental man.”

I finally get my thoughts together and stand up to move away. I grab my knapsack and stuff my knives back inside. I did what was right and helped him, now it’s time to go. No more feelings, no more problems.

Crane sees me packing and catches on. “Leaving, are we?”

“Yes.”

He stands up, still shaking slightly, and faces me with unreadable eyes. “So you only came here for your peace of mind?”

“Yes,” I answer in the same tone and grab my bag. I’m almost to the door-

“And I thought I was the cruel one.”

Um, ouch? What more does he want? I just helped give him sanity and he wants me to stay to chat and babysit? Still… Underneath the even tone he used there’s something else. Years ago I might have obliged him. But I’m not that soft now. I can’t trust anymore.

“Time in Gotham changes a person,” I answer softly.

“So I’ve heard.” He pauses for a moment. “What do you think of this new Reaper?”

Does he know? Does he know it’s me? He can’t.

“I think she has the right idea,” I reply evenly and continue walking back into the gloomy tunnels. “Good night, Dr. Crane.”

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