#ugh maybe i need to stay out of the tags for a while

[after-the-end-times]

Is it Christmas Magic or is it Love?

For @steddieholidaydrabbles Prompt: Hot Chocolate ☕ Rating: G ☕Words: 1000 ☕ cw: none ☕ Tags: Getting Together, single dad Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, Sometimes just having someone help feels like magic, Eddie hears what Steve's really saying and does something about it Ao3

Steve pushed rewind on the vhs player and sat back down on the couch, the blue of the tv screen lighting up the room and the sounds of Eddie and Robin shuffling around coming from the speaker of the phone Steve had pulled to the couch.

“You know, I kinda wish Santa and all that Christmas magic stuff was really real.” Steve said wistfully, thinking about how much easier Christmas would be if he didn’t have to be in charge of every single aspect of creating Christmas memories for his daughter.

“Um, what? You don’t think that’d be pretty creepy in real life?” Robin asks skeptically. They, and Eddie, had just finished their monthly movie night via speakerphone, Christmas themed since it was December, and Steve thought it’d actually be pretty handy if some nice old guy in town really was secretly Santa. Except,

“Ok, maybe you have a point about the whole ‘always knowing what you’re doing’ or ‘sneaking into houses in the dead of night’ thing being creepy.” He glances over at the boxes with the tree and decorations that still needed to be put up at some point. “Still. Would be nice.”

“What’d be nice?” Eddie asks.

He sounds like he’s honestly wondering, so Steve takes a moment to try to explain it.

“I suppose...it’d be nice to have the help, you know? If “Santa” could just take something off my plate so I wouldn’t have to do everything? Like, I would love if Santa could actually just magically know what Annabelle wants even after she changes her mind fifty times and then just poof! magic it here.”

He pauses, trying to articulate this other feeling he gets on Christmas morning, without sounding too woe is me. “Also, sometimes- Ugh! Nevermind.”

He tips over on the couch, pressing his palms to he eyes.

“No, what is it?” Eddie asks, his voice gentle in the silence of Steve’s living room.

“So, I guess...you know, it’s not like I got all those Christmasy traditions for very long when I was a kid, right? I mean, we did stuff, but it wasn’t, you know, just us, doing little things throughout the month, watching movies, going skating, making popcorn garland, and all that, right? And I love doing all those things for and with Belle, I really do! But, also,” He hesitates a moment, because this feels too vulnerable. But it’s just Robin and Eddie, so, “I want that? To feel that wonder and magic she feels.”

“Steve”

Oh no, that was Robin’s concerned voice.

“You know what? I think I’m just being mopey. ‘Tis the season, right? So, just ignore me. I’m the parent, so it’s my job to create magical moments, not- Anyway! When are you guys getting to town?”

🎄🎄🎄

Robin couldn’t get work off until the week of Christmas, but Eddie’s book tour was suddenly redirected, so he was staying with Wayne for most of December. Steve was excited to have him in town, but also assumed Eddie would still be too busy to do much with him and Belle. Steve knows his friends love his kid, but he also knows that not everyone wants to hang out with a 6yo running amok, hanging off him, or trying to run off with strangers at the mall play place.

But oh, how wrong he was.

The moment Eddie got into town, he called to ask if Steve and Belle were free. Which, they were, so Eddie came right over to hang out while Steve did kid laundry. He took one look at the boxes in the living room and asked Belle if she wanted to help put up the tree and decorate the house. By the end of his visit, the whole house felt like Christmas. The tree lit up the room with glowing light, showing off six years of kid ornaments, and now, after an hour of crafting, a handful of Steve, Belle, and Eddie ornaments.

A few days later, Steve was at work when Eddie showed up bringing him a large hot chocolate and, somehow, leaving with Steve’s shopping list of gifts. He’s honestly still not sure how it happened, but either way Steve definitely didn’t expect to get home after school pickup to find Eddie at home working on dinner, and bags of gifts tucked away in Steve’s bedroom.

The next weekend, Steve had planned on taking Belle to see Santa at the mall, but the entire day had gone wrong. And Steve just could not imagine standing in an hour long line with a squiggly 6yo, even if it’s the only day that works if he wants to include the photos with their Christmas cards.

Just as he’s seriously thinking of calling it, there’s a knock at the door. Eddie had finished that day’s book signing at a local bookstore and driven by to see if he could catch them before they headed out. Somehow, just having Eddie there made going to the mall seem not too bad.

The line was just as long as Steve feared, but he and Eddie took turns walking Belle around while the other held their spot in line, so it really wasn’t too bad. Steve was getting close to the front when he saw Eddie and Belle coming through the crowd; She was holding Eddie’s hand, looking very serious about whatever she was saying, Eddie slightly bent over so he could hear her, and Steve felt his breath catch in his throat and his eyes suddenly stung with emotion. Oh.

Steve pulls Eddie in to join them for their family photo with Santa.

Driving home, Eddie detours around the neighborhood, slowing down at brightly decorated houses to ooh and ahh with Belle, pointing out snowmen and Santas and reindeer.

Steve looks at him and reaches a hand over. This is what he wants, what he’s been missing. Not some Christmas magic that suddenly fixes everything for him, but this, him. Smiling over at Steve, Eddie links their hands.

[thebonerpit]

One thing the Dragon Age fandom has always been really terrible at is the concept of nuance, or 'multiple things can be true at the same time'. The whole Lucanis situation is making that very clear.

Here's the deal. I love that Lucanis has been identified as demisexual panromantic. I love that it's been clarified that he's a virgin. This is genuinely cool and as someone who falls somewhere in that demi area it's great to see.

However, it can ALSO be true that there was significant content missing from his overall romance that made this feel incredibly unsatisfying. For me, what would have made ALL the difference is even just one conversation with Rook after that "almost kiss" scene where he kind of explains his situation. And I absolutely do not mean "Hello Rook I am demisexual panromantic, here's exactly what that means in super clinical and awkwardly modern terms". I mean something like (and this would clearly be written in a more nuanced way, I'm just talking about concepts here) "That person who you saw flirting with you wasn't the real me. I was imitating Illario/I was using Crow training techniques, and I don't want to be dishonest with you. I like to take things slow and get to know someone, and I feel like I'm really falling for you but I don't want to rush things, especially physically. I don't have a lot of experience with that and I need you to be patient."

GREAT. Perfect. It explains to the PC that Lucanis does have feelings for you that are reciprocated but he wants to take things slow. That's literally all we needed. And no, one or two lines in missable banter doesn't count as him revealing this. This needed to be a proper cutscene WITH Rook.

And, this is coming from someone whose first Bioware romance ever was Josephine. I hold such a special place in my heart for her and while I don't know if it was ever confirmed she was demi/ace, there was no ~spicy sex scene and there didn't need to be because the other content was there! I was going to fight a duel for that woman for gods sake!!

[itsalwaysdark]

and also it doesnt even matter if i miraculously get a job tmrw bc we don't have a car . and im too out of shape to walk anywhere bc everything is far away . so i genuinely dont jnow what to do

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 2

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a–less–oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. A/N: Ok, I’ve decided to make this by series, so this one’s just going to be purely Sylus. I hope nobody minds the specific names/places/etc. I wanted to create a personality for the “player” and add a bit of backstory work (loosely based on yours truly lol) for the sake of storytelling, but there won't be any distinct description of the player’s physical appearance <3 Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, suggestive language, bouts of delusion

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6

Riiiiing– RiiiNGGGGG––

“Huh… whazat—?” 

A shrill—earsplitting, headache-inducing, completely fucking loud—noise wakes you up rather rudely from your peaceful slumber at… Jesus Christ, what time is it? 

You blink your bleary eyes open, once… twice—fuck, all you know that it’s too goddamn early for all this ruckus. Groaning, you clumsily try to find the source of the unexpected wake-up call—quite literally in this case. 

Your hand bumps the vibrating phone straight off the edge of the mattress – along with the charger cord still attached to it – and you cuss up a storm when you hear it clatter on the hardwood floor.

The ringing finally stops, and you’re perfectly content to just leave it there and fall back to sleep when, not even ten seconds later, the blasted thing rings back to life, taunting you awake. 

Angrily, you wrestle against the threadbare blanket wrapped around your body like a warm cocoon, pushing yourself out of bed with all the rage of a sleep-deprived insomniac who’s been up til the buttcrack of dawn to grab your—huh, relatively intact—phone off the ground, while the charger cable swings haphazardly from the weight of the power brick on its tail end.  

Without checking the caller, you swipe right to answer. “What?” 

“Don’t use that tone on me, young lady,” Your mother grouses on the other end of the line. “It’s almost noon! Did you just wake up?” 

Barely five hours of sleep. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shut your eyes and sigh. “No, mom. Sorry, just had a late night,” you clear your throat in an attempt to sound more composed. “What’s up?” 

“Oh, dear. Is it because of work again?” Something akin to sympathy replaces the sternness in her voice, and you dread the all-too-familiar spiel that comes next. “You know, honey, there’s a job opening for a– what was it again? I have to double check, but it’s where your Auntie Helen works. You know your Auntie Helen—” 

“Mom,” you interrupt, before she could go off on a tangent. “Work is fine, don’t worry. Why d’you call?” 

“Should I need a reason to call my only daughter who's living by her lonesome, a country away from—” 

“Mom!” 

“Oh, alright,” she finally relents, sounding slightly exasperated. “Were you able to book me and Jodie the roundtrip flight to Orlando? Your cousin’s wedding is barely a month away and I want all the documents ready by now, sweetie.” 

Shit. “Ah— yeah. I’ll email you the flight itinerary in a bit, I’m just–” you catch sight of your protruding hamper, innocuous but an eyesore nonetheless, right by the doorway of your humble studio unit. “I mean, I just left the condo. To do errands and stuff. I’ll send the details to you when I get back home, okay?” 

“Okay, honey,” she sighs. “You stay safe outside now. Don’t talk to strangers.” 

“I am a perfectly responsible adult—” The call disconnects. “Hello? Great.” 

You rub away the remnants of sleep from your eyes, fully aware that your day’s already started, despite your reluctance. Might as well get a head start on today’s agenda.

First thing’s first– brunch. Oh, it’s almost one. Lunch, then. I could maybe grab a hotdog from the corner store before heading to Landers. Oh wait, your laundry– gotta pass by the laundromat downstairs, too. Ugh, c’mon, chop-chop. 

Just as you’re about to stand up from your supine position on the floor, another ping! pulls your attention back to your phone. 

“Mom, I swear–” 

Ah, you’re finally awake. You’ve had a very long night, kitten. Take it easy for the day – make sure to get enough rest between errands.

I’ll know if you don’t.  

Your heart skips a beat.

Oh! Um. That’s… new. 

… Apparently another one on the growing list of “new features” from the latest update. It doesn't sound like an invitation for you to open the game, strangely enough. It's not a call to action to claim your daily stamina, nor a prompt for you to check your Galaxy Explorer rewards. 

It’s nothing more than a greeting, really. Just one that’s particularly targeted at you, with unnerving accuracy.

You recall the weird (?) events from last night, and the now-erratic beating of your heart suddenly picks up a notch. From the unexpected dialogues to the outrageous amount of dias you’ve somehow ended up with—something you still think is some kind of glitch in the system—you can’t shake the feeling that you’re living out the plot of a Black Mirror episode, as fucking dumb as that sounds. 

Not to mention during Quality Time, Sylus_v2.0 (as you so lovingly dub this version of him in your mind) had been acting more aware of you.

And you’re not talking about the pre-programmed glances that you usually get. No– it’s like he actually hears you. 

He doesn’t say anything. But whenever you make a comment, or utter something under your breath, he reacts with a huff or a hum–depending on the context. If it’s a slew of expletives aimed at your boss, the reaction you’re met with is one of amusement. A snort; sometimes a quiet laugh, if you’re lucky. When you say something self-deprecating, however, it elicits the heavier sighs, the sharp clicks of the tongue. 

At one point, you heard him make a low sound of dissent, something close to a... growl, almost, after making a casual joke about being just another cog in the machine and how offing yourself wouldn’t really matter in the grand scheme of late capitalism. As you oft do. 

Your eyes met, and for a split second, it felt like you weren’t looking at just pixels. His gaze weighed heavy on you–almost accusatory. 

It made you feel… naked, somehow. Perceived. 

You recall how quickly you averted your eyes from his, face flushing hotly from a feeling you couldn’t put into words. 

Bone-tired from last night’s (morning) overtime, you didn’t have the time to look up the news on this recent version update—although you really don’t remember any notifications in-game—so you quickly Google, “sylus acting sentient in rcent update loveamd Deepspace???” on your phone browser.

You scroll down for a bit, but none of the search results yield any relevancy, nor are they in any way similar to your current… predicament. 

(Okay, so calling it a predicament is a little unfair. You’re not exactly complaining about anything per se. No complaints from you. At all.)

Deciding that you’d do a deeper dive on Twitter (X) at a later time instead – probably tonight when you do your daily login – you briefly press the side button to lock your phone… not without a final peek at the banner notification from Sylus. 

You press your lips together in an effort to hold back the stupid giggle bubbling up your throat. 

Unfortunately, all the self-control in the world can’t help you and your need to have the last word—girl, from what even—so you ask aloud, to no one except the person you've deluded yourself into thinking is a valid recipient of your one-sided conversation: 

“... Yeah? And what if I don’t?” 

You’re not really waiting for a response (or were you?), but the nervous flutter in your stomach betrays the impatience you're trying to mask with casual indifference. It’s small, unassuming–but there. 

Impatient for what, exactly, you’re not sure. But maybe, just maybe—

Feeling a bit braver now, are we? How bold. Care to say that to my face, sweetheart?

Oh. 

Oh.

An inhuman noise escapes your throat, embarrassingly loud, almost a keen, and you fumble with the device in your hand; the new banner notification still in full view—taunting you. 

You don’t know what to think, you don’t know how to feel. You–

Spring up, like an agitated jack-in-a-box, and the sudden rush of blood in your head leaves you dizzy. You’re a molotov cocktail of emotions; one more bombshell dropped on you and you might just blow. 

“I’m– later, okay? Uh,” Whew, girl, keep it together. “I need–I need to go.” You almost stumble as you speed walk towards the bathroom.

-

-

-

If you didn’t switch your phone to silent, didn’t make the conscious effort to ignore any incoming messages, notifications, and whatever else, in a rush to get dressed and go about your day as if it's just like any other weekend–nope, nothing unusual here–you would’ve seen one last cheeky reply:

Of course, sweetie. You take care now. 

Don’t talk to strangers. X

Endnote: This one's pretty short, but I’m world-building, trust. 

Thanks for reading! 

[tootiecakes234]

Katsuki deciding how to propose to you:

“Dude you’re overthinking this. She’s gonna say yes no matter what you do or say. If she’s stayed with your grumpy attitude all this time then she’s obviously commited.” Kirishima was explaining because Katsuki had come over 2 hours ago and gone over 5 different plans on how he w could go about proposing.

There were plans that involved a plethora of flowers, walks on the beach, hot air balloons, and skywriting. All elaborate and ridiculous.

“Yea but I don’t do romantic shit. If I don’t at least-fuck- if I don’t make this some grand gesture or some shit she’s gonna think she’s spending forever with a loser.” He grumbles laying back on the bed while Eiji was playing on his game system.

“You don’t think, maybe, possibly, you’re overthinking this?? Y/N doesn’t seem like the type that would want all of these convulted plans man.”

“Are you calling my woman simple? Do I need to kick your ass in your own home shitty hair?!” He sat up like he was already about to leap.

“No! No. Calm down! I’m just saying that you might want to think about something a little more….. intimate maybe.” Eiji says, trying to find the right words as to not said the angry Pomeranian into another frenzy. He was already exhausted and didn’t have the energy to use his hardening if Bakugo chose now to pick a fight.

“Intimate? Like propose to her in the middle of us boning? What kinda dumb shit-“

“What the hell is your problem bakubro? You do know there is more than just sexual intamcy right? *whispers* pick up a book” he mumbles. Eijirou pauses his game and turns around to face Katsuki.

“Stop overthinking. You want to lay your cold heart out- it’s a joke- then do something so you’ll feel comfortable telling her how you feel. She’s gonna remember your words more than this dumb shit you’re planning.” Eiji states looking directly at Katsuki now.

“Ugh. All of this shit is stupid. Maybe I’ll just slide the damn ring on her finger while she’s asleep. Then I can avoid all this gross mushy shit.” He breathes out and starts packing up his shit to leave.

“Bakugo, I’m telling you this as your best friend and hopefully future best man, I will be neither of those things anymore if you choose to do that. In fact Y/N might actually kill you when YOU fall asleep.” He snickers.

Bakugo is almost at the door now when he turns around and says, “Fuck it. I’m just going with my original plan! If you don’t hear from after this weekend it’s because she said no and i ended my life. Oh, and if you tell ANYONE about this-“

“Ok. I get it. Go propose to your girlfriend already” Eiji says with a bright smile on his face.

Katsuki shoots him a quick grin before he leaves to go prep for the biggest night of his life.

*Part 2 of is out now😇

Katsuki Bakugo Masterlist

Tooties Tags: Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @jays-adventure3 @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @blaize-hewwo-deactivated2024062 @tippy-toes @superlegend216 @liliththeunqualifiedsimp @burgvndy @yoyolovesdaiki @zaiban2989 @citrustsuki-2 @queenpiranhadon

[aweina]

HI CAN I REQUEST MIKE SCHMIDT X FEM READER?? MAYBE SOME FLUFF I JUST- UGH I NEED HIM. anyways. PLEASE? THANKS! REMEMBER TO HYDRATE!

ᥫ᭡. winter heart , mike schmidt ( fluff )

you and me, hugging ? if you want …

tags fem + gn reader. pining. friends to ( redacted ). mike tries to be a meanie but he can’t. special abby cameo.

“cold?”

mike quirks a brow at your shivering form, the lack of warm layers and no sign of any other winter accessory made him visibly cringe.

“o-obviously.” your teeth clattered with heavy pronunciation, clinging to yourself for some ounce of warmth. “t-the forecast are liars, i’ll never trust them a-again.”

he huffs a laugh at your retort, his breath condensing into the winter air — swirling aimlessly into the filtered blue atmosphere. mike was extremely amused, he could tell you that. during the coldest seasons, you decided to only wear a sleeved shirt constructed with the thinnest fabric he’s ever seen.

you play dumb games, you win stupid prizes. he believes wholeheartedly.

at the same time, he grew concerned. your reddened nose sniffled in the cold air, shakily clinging onto your shirt like it could get any warmer. your brows were furrowed in discomfort, the moisture of your lips stolen by the crisp breeze. even in this condition, you stayed with him to watch abby — who was bustling in the frozen playground with her new friends.

instinctively, mike tugs down the zipper of his oversized fleece hoodie — the bulky layers he wore combating the bitter cold. he turns to your shivering form, suddenly feeling shy about his decision, but seeing you in such a vulnerable state for his own sake made him feel guilty. mike bites back a self-encouraging sigh, shaking his head in an attempt to get rid of the fluttering feeling inside his core. with his gloved hands snug in his pockets, he widens his arms to open his furry jacket — coughing dumbly to catch your attention.

you turned to him and tilted your head in confusion, darting your eyes towards his flushed face to the baggy graphic t-shirt and the oversized jacket that cling to his body, somehow it felt like a mockery to your cold state.

“haha … nice jacket, i know you’re much more warmer and smarter than me. you don’t have to rub it in.” you jested through a freezing hiss, rolling your eyes at his attempt to push your buttons.

“w-what? wait no! just come here, please.” his voice sounded a bit more desperate than he intended it to be, but he usually doesn’t offer this treatment to anybody.

still confused, you shuffled towards him with caution. you silently gasped when you got closer, feeling the comforting warmth radiating off his body.

mike gulps nervously, feeling your panting chest grazing his. it was a strange feeling, how in sync your heartbeats were — they danced in the rhyme together, the tempo seemed to quicken as you approached him closer and closer. finally, he finds the courage to wrap his fleece jacket around your quivering body, hesitantly hugging you through the thick fabric.

your eyes widen in realization, he’s hugging you. mike schmidt is hugging you. he felt so warm and cuddly, all the lousy layers of old t-shirts he forced himself to wear felt like laying on soft pillows. the fur threaded in his jacket brushed its warmth against your frozen skin. but the thing making you burn up was the fact you’re so close to mike, shyly wrapping your arms around his frame while your head is nearly tucked into the nape of his neck — but you hesitated to go any further.

“are you warm?” mike’s voice was gentle in your ear, the flush of his body melted your bitter coldness in an instant.

you slightly nodded, still a little disoriented from this predicament.

feeling more comfortable, mike takes his gloved hand out of his pocket, assuring your stiffness as he petted your head, guiding you to rest in the nape of his neck. his warm pulse tapped softly against your forehead. you could hear his life line — every breath he takes. this felt like heaven, being held in mike’s arms. then he’s not protesting, his melting grip was tighter — protective like someone could snatch you away from his arms. he loved the way you smelled, delicate perfume and fresh laundry. if he could keep this close and take in your scent, he would if it wasn’t so creepy for him to do.

there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. the childlike chants and laughter faded into the background, the bitter cold didn’t feel so bad anymore. it felt like your hearts were clinging onto each other, feeding the aching starvation of touch and warmth. he needed this, you needed it too.

“are you guys finally dating now?”

a youthful voice forced you both out of a love trance, eyes widened and heads snapped towards the smaller figure. it was abby, a huge grin on her flushed face — half covered with a comically large knitted scarf.

“abby … don’t.” mike winced at her bluntness, but he still held you in a warm embrace.

you allowed him to cling onto you, equally flustered at her words but much more comfortable, even playful at the weird circumstances.

“i’m still patiently waiting for your brother to ask me out.” you teased the younger schmidt, earning an excited giggle and an exasperated sigh from the older schmidt.

maybe he should’ve just offered you his jacket if you were going to embarrass him in front of his younger sister.

add. note : hope you enjoyed some fluff anon !! and thank you, stay hydrated too because we’re all thirsty for grumpy security guard mikey ㅜ ㅜ

[underdark-dreams]

This fic will explore the fanon of Tiefling rut/heat cycles: specifically, what happens when a stressed, overworked, sexually pent-up wizard is confronted with his own biology and his feelings about a certain hero all at once?

Thank you @rolansrighthorn for kindly beta reading this chapter!

Rolan x afab!Tav

Birds and Bees - Ch.1

The new Master of Ramazith's Tower hasn't been feeling well. Rolan isn't quite sure what's wrong with himself, but when Tav arrives back in Baldur's Gate, things get much worse.

Tags: Tiefling Ruts, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 3.4k [Read on AO3]

Rolan awoke feeling sick as a dog. 

He pulled his legs over the edge of the mattress with a wince. The dull ache in his muscles was something he hadn't felt since those first weeks on the road out of Elturel.

He'd slept like hells the past few days; no doubt that was the cause. Once again, bizarre nightmares had left him gasping awake before dawn, covered in a clammy sheen of perspiration.

The dreams featuring Tav, however…

Rolan’s tail shuddered and flicked over the bedsheets behind him at the memory. He pushed those thoughts forcefully from his head. Tav was due back in Baldur’s Gate today—that was the last thing he should be thinking of when she arrived at Sorcerous Sundries.

She’d been away for over a week this time, gathering her materials in the Underdark. He wondered if that meant she'd have enough work to keep her in the city for longer, too. The thought encouraged him enough to rise and dress for the day. He should make sure her alchemy station was prepped and ready for her at the back of the shop, at least. 

Down on the main floor of Sorcerous Sundries, Rolan’s improved mood was instantly tested. Cal took in his face wide-eyed.

“You look awful.”

“And good morning to you,” Rolan responded irritably.

“Is it?” Cal trailed after him as he unlocked and threw open the wide front doors. “Rolan, maybe you need a day off. You look like you barely slept.”

“I'm fine,” Rolan said, voice firm. “Where’s Lia?”

Right as the words left him, a teacup appeared at his elbow.

“Had a feeling you might need it,” Lia told him. “Looks like I was right.”

Too tired to combat both his siblings at once this early in the day, Rolan accepted the tea with a begrudging sigh of thanks. The smell of bitter herbs hit his nose before he took the first sip.

“Doctoring me with folk remedies now?”

Lia waved a dismissive hand as she moved behind the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we all know you'd rather get fussed over by Tav. Can't have you dragging your tail and embarrassing us in front of her, though.”

Cal walked off with a snort.

Rolan shut his eyes and wished he could return straight back to bed. Instead, he drank his tea down in silence and said a prayer for an easy day of work.

He did find himself perking up after a while. It was difficult to stay sullen on such a glorious spring day; clear sunlight streamed generously through the high windows above, and the flow of customers milling into the shop settled into a pleasant, familiar hum. Rolan fell into the rhythm of assisting them here and there, locating scrolls and giving advice on spellwork.

It certainly wasn’t the prospect of seeing Tav again that was improving his mood so much. That’s what Rolan kept telling himself, at least.

Another breeze drifted in through the open atrium behind him, bringing with it the fresh scent of spring wildflowers. Rolan was taken with a sudden fancy to move closer to wherever it emanated from.

“Lovely morning, isn't it?”

Tav stood beaming at him from the doorway, despite the full-to-bursting pack slung over one of her shoulders. Clearly he wasn’t the only one affected by the irresistibly nice weather.

“It rather is,” Rolan agreed. Ignoring her usual protests, he unshouldered the bag from her with a tug; its weight made him question whether she’d stuffed it entirely with minerals.

“Ugh…thanks.” Tav stretched her arms back appreciatively. She was wearing a lightweight tunic, carelessly laced, and the motion strained the fabric over her chest. 

Rolan averted his gaze, feeling rather warm all of a sudden. He instead led Tav back to her workstation near the stairs.

“Looks busy in here,” she remarked with approval. “Business good?”

“Can’t complain. I take it your travels were as successful?” He punctuated the comment by landing her pack on the desk with a heavy thump. Tav laughed.

“Brilliant, actually. I've got a lot to show you, if you can spare the time.”

“Just give me a few minutes,” he answered, turning back to her.

Tav didn’t reply right away; she was frowning at his face. “Rolan, are you ill? You look flushed—” And she reached a hand as if to feel his forehead.

“Of course not,” Rolan answered, a bit too swiftly. Casting for an excuse to create some distance, he moved to the nearby reference shelves and began shoving the mess of books back into their correct cubbies. “Cal, could you grab another stack of the beginner’s Weave series? We’ve sold through.”

Cal looked up from his work rolling scroll pages. “Er, sure…which wing is that again?”

“Nevermind,” Rolan sighed. “I’ll get them myself. Let me know if your station’s missing any supplies,” he added to Tav, letting his voice soften a bit. It earned him a dimpling smile.

Rolan strode away from her toward the portal, feeling that annoying ache in his legs return as he did.

—

Tav watched Rolan’s figure trudge up the staircase with another twinge of concern. Then she set to work connecting all the equipment on her alchemy station. Lia appeared at her side before long, asking after her week’s travels in the Underdark and catching her up on news and gossip from the Gate. It was so nice to have friends like Lia; ones you could pick up right where you left off with.

Tav had emptied her bag onto her desk and begun sorting the small mountain of herbs into separate piles as she listened. “How’s Rolan been doing with everything, really?”

Lia was turning over one of her shards of laculite, idly catching the sunlight in its facets. “Mostly happy. And stressed, and overextended. And completely neurotic about organizing every shelf in the library. You know, typical wizard stuff.”

“I just hope he’s looking after himself,” she said down to her work. The words left her mouth easier than she wished.

Lia leaned a hip against her desk with arms crossed. “You sound interested in helping with that.”

The quake in Tav’s stomach made her feel very caught out, then very stupid. She let out an exhale of laughter instead.

“Rolan’s made it pretty clear that he is not,” she replied. Her fingers began stripping the blooms from her pile of dried mugwort with more force than strictly necessary.

“Between you and me,” Lia mused, “I don’t think Rolan’s anywhere near clear on that subject. Smart people can be real idiots, you know.”

“Who can?”

Rolan was headed from the staircase with an armful of books; he stood behind Lia with a suspicious look. Tav immediately wondered how much he’d heard.

“Rich people,” Lia answered at once, still leaning casually against Tav’s desk. “Lady Whitburn’s handmaid keeps coming in asking for spell scrolls that I’m pretty sure don’t exist. You think she’d get the picture by now.”

Rolan let out a long-suffering sigh and held out the stack of volumes to her. “Take these. And just send Cal to help her next time, that’s why she keeps coming back.”

Lia threw up a hand as if that only proved her point. “Like I said, idiots.” But with one last glance at Tav, she grabbed the books and ferried them away to the front of Sorcerous Sundries.

For her part, Tav resumed the work of preparing the week’s ingredients—there were several large batches of antidote to get through this morning. Rolan took up his usual spot at the desk in her periphery. 

Ever since the first week he’d offered Sorcerous Sundries to her as a home of operations for her alchemy, Tav found herself spending many hours at work beside Rolan like this. They spent the time talking about her travels, or his latest studies with the Weave, or just discussing the last books they’d read. On busier days, he was called away to help customers for most of her visit.

Today, however, Rolan stood unusually silent next to her.

“Sure you’re feeling all right?” She glanced at his back, again noting the tense line of his shoulders.

“Just a bit tired.” Rolan tipped open his massive record of the shop figures. “Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I could make you something for that, if you like.”

He gave a low huff of laughter as he took up his quill. “From what I hear from my customers, I’d be out cold for days.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help a grin of professional pride, but focused on adjusting the flame under her distilling glass. “Glad they’re selling well.”

“I can barely keep them on the shelves, especially those remedial draughts you make. The last batch lasted three days.”

Though it was satisfying to hear, Tav felt a bit chagrined. “Damn…won’t have more of those for a while. I still need to track down a new materials trader in the Gate. My usual guy moved on to Neverwinter.”

There was a short pause in their little corner, filled only with the sounds of softly bubbling liquid against glass.

“You know,” Rolan said without turning, “you’re welcome to stay here, if it’s easier for you. The guest room’s always empty. That is, so you wouldn’t have to travel across the city on top of finding your new contact.”

“Oh—” Tav tried hard not to read anything into his offer. “Actually, I already left my things with Danis and Bex. But thank you, Rolan,” she added.

Rolan coughed lightly, back still turned. “Of course.” 

There was another pause, longer and strangely awkward. Tav suddenly found she needed something more to occupy her thoughts than watching a flask boil. Reaching down for her pack, she pulled her research journal up to the desk.

It had been many weeks since Rolan brought up that subject. Why now?

Cal and Lia constantly reminded her of the long-standing offer of a room in the Tower anytime she had need of it. For unspoken reasons, she’d always found polite ways of declining.

It wasn’t that Rolan had made her feel unwelcome in any way. After all, he’d opened up the expansive resources of Ramazith’s Tower to her use, lending her all of the delicate and expensive alchemy equipment that she’d never be able to cart back and forth in her travels. She owed much of her current success to his generosity.

But Rolan had proven himself a generous patron for all kinds of arcane arts as Master of Ramazith’s Tower. Really, what made her think she was any kind of special case?

The fact that she’d very much like to be that to him…well.

That was something Tav tried not to think about. It only led her to dangerous territory, such as staring at his hands while he worked a spell and wondering what else they might be good for. Hardly conducive to a friendly, professional relationship. 

And if she was any good at reading signals, friendly but professional was how Rolan wanted to keep things.

Tav shuffled through her notes a bit too briskly and almost scattered them. That was enough dwelling on that subject; clearly, Rolan had plenty to think about without worrying about unwanted advances in his own home. The least she could do to repay his generosity would be to continue respecting his boundaries.

“Noblestalk propagation?”

She glanced over her shoulder. To her surprise, Rolan had moved closer to peer down at the top page in her hands with curiosity.

“Most valuable thing in the Underdark,” she told him. “Even more than mithril. Actually, this is what I wanted to show you—”

Noblestalk fetched a high price for its alchemical power, certainly, but also for its rarity. The delicate mushrooms were notoriously picky about where they grew; it was part of what made them so hard to find. 

Truth be told, she’d been running a little experiment on them down in the Underdark over the past few months. She ran a finger across the charted results as she explained them to Rolan, whose tension seemed to vanish as he listened on with keen interest.

“Obviously the spores took faster in high humidity. But look, they actually did better when I transplanted them in a really cold spot near the river here—which is so odd, most fungi need a bit of warmth—

“Have you tried recreating these artificially? Carrying a sample back to the surface?”

“Not yet.” She scratched her chin in thought. “I’d need to find somewhere underground to propagate it. And I’d rather not spend any more time in the sewers, after that little cult business.”

“Just do it here,” Rolan dismissed, as if it was the plainly obvious solution. “We’ve got quite a few empty vaults now. Shouldn’t be too hard to repurpose one as a greenhouse of sorts.”

As she turned her head to respond, she was caught up short. 

Rolan was still peering intently at her writing. But in his concentration, he’d angled his body very close beside her. His chest nearly brushed her shoulder. She could’ve counted the freckles dusting his nose.

When he reached forward to flip over the page, she felt his other hand actually rest on the far side of her waist—the absent way you might touch someone very familiar to you when moving past them. Heat rose in her cheeks at the gesture.

Perhaps Rolan felt her tense. He blinked, and she watched realization dart over his features. He stepped back at once.

“Apologies.” Then he cleared his throat to add—“Your work is quite engaging.”

Coming from him, the words sounded much nicer than they had a right to. She felt her flush deepening, and quickly turned back to reorder her notes. 

“Thanks,” she laughed, praying it didn’t sound as awkward as it felt rising in her throat.

Behind her back, she heard Rolan return to his desk on her left. Presumably continuing his work on the Sundries inventory; more likely trying to ignore her obvious fluster. 

She clenched her jaw in an attempt to shove that same stupid, fluttery feeling out of her stomach, and returned to the practical work at hand. 

—

Rolan stared down at last week’s sales in his ledger. The figures were a blur of meaningless scribbles in front of his eyes.

Was he feverish? Seriously ill? There had to be a sound explanation for the way he’d just…laid hands on her like that, unthinking. 

He clenched the guilty right hand responsible, feeling its sharp nails press crescent moons into his palm. Idiot. He took a deep breath to regain his composure. 

It only caused that lovely wildflower scent from before to fill his lungs more completely, pulling at his other senses. Perhaps it was emanating from one of the many strange ingredients Tav was always carrying back from the Underdark. Was that what had muddled his mind this way?

He found himself glancing back over his shoulder to where she was bent over her alchemy scales. The pink tip of her tongue was visible between her teeth, a gesture she often made when concentrating.

As Rolan watched, a lock of her hair slipped forward over her shoulder. She swept it absently back behind her ear. The innocuous motion caused another wave of something floral to brush past his face, stronger this time.

“Are you wearing scent?”

Tav glanced up from the powder she was weighing out, brows raised in question. “What?”

“Nothing,” Rolan said swiftly, shaking himself back to rights a bit. He felt very lucky she seemed to have misheard. He turned back to his work before he could say anything else strange or embarrassing.

With effort, Rolan forced his attention back to the comforting logic of sums and figures. 

The time passed with blessed uneventfulness after that. The soft sounds of glassware and bubbling liquids from Tav’s alchemy faded to an idle lull at the back of Rolan’s consciousness. Nevertheless, he pushed through the past month’s numbers with more difficulty than usual, scratching through multiple errors as his quill moved over the page. He occasionally had to pause to rub at an uncomfortable crick building in his neck.

A laugh came from behind him. “Do you mind?”

Rolan raised his head to look. Tav was gesturing at the corner of her alchemy station with a bemused expression. 

To his own confusion, he found that his tail had traveled there of its own accord sometime in the past minutes. It lay coiled on the wood, its tip flicking back and forth in her direction, as if seeking her attention.

With another chuckle, Tav’s fingers closed around it and lightly dropped the appendage off the edge of her desk.

An involuntary sound caught in Rolan’s throat. The moment her hand connected with his skin, a shock of blood rushed to his groin. He nearly tipped forward in alarm at the feeling.

The rapid redirection left his legs wobbling and bloodless. His knees almost buckled under him; he gripped sharp claws into the edge of his wooden desk to steady himself. 

As the ringing in his ears cleared, he heard Tav reading under her breath behind him while she ground something against her mortar. Praise the gods that whatever just happened to his body had escaped her notice.

“Need a book from the library—”

Without a backward glance, Rolan stumbled toward the stairs.

Spurred on by the knowledge that any customers who might notice his urgent departure would certainly see the reason for it, he strode on double-time for the portal. Only once the swirl of Weave closed behind him, depositing him in the quiet of the Tower, did he release the breath caught up in his lungs.

Seeking to ground himself, Rolan glanced up to watch the golden dust motes drift through a beam of sunlight. It was the strangest sensation to be standing completely still and feel a sweat break out over his brow.

How did he not realize days ago? Muscle aches—difficulty sleeping—heightened senses. All clear indicators that his biology had finally caught up with him, albeit a solid year later than it should have.

Rolan gripped a hand to the back of his head with a groan of realization. Not perfume—it had been Tav herself he kept catching scent of this morning. That sweet smell that practically made his mouth water to recall now was nothing but raw instinct laid bare.

Well, he had no right to complain about the timing. Apparently many frantic months of escaping the Hells, surviving on the road, and battling back an invasion from the Astral Plane had done a lot to delay the inevitable. 

But inevitable it was, and as of today, very much inescapable. There was never really a convenient time for this sort of thing, was there?

It could be worse—as the new keeper of Ramazith’s Tower, at least he found himself with private quarters to retreat to for the entirety of it. If he was lucky, it would all be over in a week, and then he could go on ignoring this unfortunate side effect of his Infernal heritage for a few more uneventful years. 

Lia and Cal could manage the shop for a week without any major calamities, surely?

As Rolan paced the silk carpets of the Tower floor, he forced his feverish mind to finish scrabbling together the plan. His gaze fell on the desk by the window. In the next second, he was putting shaking quill to parchment. Something simple, just enough they’d understand—

Bad week for visitors. Please mind the Sundries while I recover. Tell Tav 

The tip of his quill skipped as he paused, letting a droplet of ink bleed into the page. 

Tell Tav what, exactly? That he was in his room rutting his brains out like an animal in heat? Likely thinking of her while he did?

That line of thought brought a series of unhelpful and very stimulating images to mind. He swallowed down a humiliating sound as the stiffness between his legs grew painfully hard in reaction. Merciful, bloody hells.

Tell Tav nothing, he finished in a scrawl. Rolan folded the note and deposited it on the floor just in front of the portal, where it would be impossible for his siblings to miss. 

Then he turned for the staircase to his bedroom, already mad to rip these chafing gods-damned robes off his skin.

[anystalker707]

a sweet reminder

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x [gender-neutral] Reader Summary: Spending a nice time with Luke after he's done working at the farm, and of course he's awfully sweet. Tags: clingy luke / he really wants to take care of you / lots of kisses

MASTER LIST

          Despite the usual high temperatures, the day felt exceptionally hot—the suns seemed to be taking out personal anger on Luke, making each step towards his home feel like torture, and he already knew he’d need some cream later tonight to deal with burning in the areas where the sunlight chastened his tanned skin. He furrowed his eyebrows, patting his clothes to get rid of the sand accumulated between the folds.

The droids wouldn’t do everything, so Luke still needed to carry those heavy buckets of water back home to refill the sprinklers. He tried to balance between no water spilled and the intense pain in his fingers to let buckets down on the ground as slowly as he could, and the pain lingered uncomfortably around his knuckles.

“Fuck,” Luke breathed as he opened and closed his hand a few times until the stiffness went away, or at least most of it. He sighed as he placed his hands on his hips, looking down, letting the breeze refresh the back of his neck before he moved to finish his task. He would be free for the last of the day, hopefully.

Luke’s thoughts were fuzzy already after so many hours under the suns, but he had done that enough times to trust himself on autopilot. He could name a handful of things—more, actually—he would rather be doing right now.

A long breath escaped his lips once he was done, and he tried his best to ignore the tingling in the back of his mind that told him it was only a matter of time before his uncle told him to do something else. He took a deep breath as he walked over to the kitchen, his body instinctively freezing when he heard his name being called, but hey, it wasn’t Uncle Owen.

“Luke,” the voice called again, and he stepped out to see you coming down the edge. A smile tugged on your lips when you finally saw him, sighing. “Wow, you look like you’ve been… smuggled by Jawas.”

“Oh,” Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “Just slaving away as usual,” he breathed, glancing behind him, but no one from his family was around. He wiped the sweat away from his brow with his forearm, and he shook his head again so that his strands would fall back into place.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just feeling a little too hot and cranky.” Luke scrunched his nose a little. Today’s weather seemed harsher than usual, and opposite to his wishes to stay home upgrading his ship, he had to work at the farm for longer than normal today.

You raised your eyebrows, nodding faintly. “I was gonna ask you to come grab a drink with me, but we don’t need to go anywhere if you don’t want to.”

Luke’s eyes followed your hand reaching out to brush his hair back into place, and he made sure to stand still while you did so. “Doesn’t sound bad at all,” he said. “Maybe we can have a couple of glasses of blue milk while we hang out in the garage. I was gonna tinker around with my stuff anyway.” He grabbed your hand, walking by the kitchen with you to grab the promised drink before you two could go sit on the couch in the garage. He always sat close, pressed to your side. “Ugh, what a day, I swear. Anything interesting happened while I was slaving away?”

“Stop being so dramatic,” you scoffed with an endearing smile. You enjoyed the refreshing sensation of the blue milk going down your throat, and the garage felt a lot nicer than being cooked under the suns outside. On the other hand, maybe it’d be colder than usual tonight. “And no, nothing interesting. I did hit my head on the edge of a ship while fixing it, though. I’m not sure if that’s interesting,” you chuckled, bringing a hand up to the sore spot on top of your head out of instinct.

Blue eyes observed you over the rim of the glass before Luke lowered it, licking his lips as his eyes roamed over you with clear concern, a crease forming between his eyebrows. A small sound came from him as he put his glass away. “Oh no, are you alright? Let me take a look.” He adjusted his position and placed your glass on the table as well, reaching out to touch your head. His fingertips gently traced the area where you’d hit with a delicate and soft touch. “Does this hurt?” He applied a little pressure.

“Ow,” you hissed at the unexpected pain, though it wasn’t too bad. You’d forget it hurt if nothing touched the area you’d hit. “Only a little sore.” 

“I don’t feel any bumps or swelling, but I think we should keep an eye on it, anyway,” Luke exhaled. “But that’s a relief. We don’t want you losing any more brain cells.” He chuckled and kissed the top of your head carefully, his hand descending to cup your cheek for a brief moment. Concern was evident in his eyes as they met yours, making your heart flutter in your chest. “I have a bacta spray. It should help. Do you want me to get it?”

You placed your hand on top of his to squeeze it reassuringly, letting it fall to your lap. “I’m fine, I swear. Maybe we should be more worried about your brain cells cooking in this heat, yeah?” You chuckled, running your thumb over Luke’s knuckles when his eyes widened, and you were sure his blushing would be apparent if it weren’t for his sun-kissed skin.

“H-Hey, my brain is just fine, thank you very much!” Luke’s attempt to sound indignant failed miserably with his embarrassment, and he bit his lip, glancing away. “It’s not like I’m hallucinating or anything.” His eyes softened when they met yours again, and he lifted his free hand, his fingertips grazing your cheek gently—he raised his eyebrows a little when you leaned into his touch. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He leaned in closer. “Maybe I should take another look, just to be safe.”

Part of you regretted telling Luke about the bump when concern laced his gaze once more—you thought he’d be more used to it, since you and him were always with a bruise or another from working on those ships or machines the whole time.

“It’s okay,” you insisted, catching his hand between yours before he could reach for your head again. “Trust me, Luke.” You squeezed his hand gently.

Luke exhaled. “Okay. If you’re sure.” He looked down at your joined hands before he leaned in, his nose brushing against yours. “But if it gets worse, you’ll tell me, right?” His wide, earnest eyes looked into yours, pleading, before he pressed his forehead to yours, both out of habit and out of worry. Clingy, as always. “I could kiss it better.” His breath fanned over your face. “If you want me to, I mean.” As if he hadn’t already.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” you mumbled, your eyelids instinctively hiding half of your irises when the distance between you diminished. “Why are you always doing this? Pressing your forehead to mine. Trying to read my thoughts?” You chuckled, and he couldn’t help but do the same.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Luke furrowed his eyebrows lightly. “It feels… nice. Comforting, I guess.” He bit his lip, his hand coming up to rest on your shoulder, near the base of your neck. “Don’t act like I’m being clingy.”

“Yeah, feels nice, I enjoy it too… But you’re very clingy all the time, in fact,” you whispered with a small smile, placing a hand on his waist instead, adjusting your position so that you could be closer to each other.

A soft scoff escaped his lips. “You’re the one who wouldn’t stop kissing me the last time,” he pointed out with a shy smile, and he quickly pulled one of your legs to hook over his. “Not that I’m complaining,” he mumbled in a quieter, embarrassed voice, but he didn’t move away. The closeness was exciting and terrifying all at the same time. “I really like it when you do that.”

You raised your eyebrows, feigning cluelessness, despite how your heart fluttered in your chest. “Me? I never even kissed you. Let alone kiss you nonstop.” You clicked your tongue.

Luke pulled away suddenly, making your head fall forward a little, and looked at you with a wide grin and disbelief. “What? But you did! Here in the garage, when we were working on the speeder.” He paused. “Trying to.”

“Did I?” You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t remember it, baby.”

His heart pounded in his chest, and his cheeks burned, not just because of being under the sunlight for hours before. With a dramatically heavy sigh, he leaned in again. “Maybe you should kiss me again, love.” He glanced at your lips. “Just to remind you.”

“Oh, so that’s your suggestion?” You asked, and Luke nodded, biting his lip. “‘M not sure about it,” you mumbled against his cheek, nuzzling it softly.

“Well, we should try, maybe it’ll remind you,” Luke chuckled softly, turning his head. His lips brushed against yours in a barely-there touch. It was more of a tease, but still managed to send a tingling down his spine. He cupped the side of your neck, his thumb under your jaw, leaning in, and finally kissed you properly. His lips finally met yours, his breath hitching. Luke loved the warmth of your mouth, the softness of your lips, and it made his head spin when you kissed him back just as lovingly. “Like this?”

“I don’t think I’ve remembered enough,” you said as soon as his lips broke away from yours.

Luke chuckled. “We’ll have to keep trying, then.” He pecked your lips. “Until you remember.” Despite the calloused skin, his hands gently cupped your face as he kissed you once more, needy lips pressing to yours in a longer, deeper kiss. His kisses were messy in the best way possible, oscillating between the need and shyness, refraining into more contained movements right after deepening it and getting lost on your lips, trying to get a grip of himself again. “Do you like this?” Luke’s lips grazed yours as he spoke.

“Mhm. So good.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, mirroring his smile. He couldn’t be close enough.

Something shifted in Luke’s gaze as he tilted his head; it was like you were the most precious thing in the whole universe. He kissed you again, letting it last longer, as his thumbs ran along your cheekbones. “You’re so good at this,” he groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist to hug you tightly while nuzzling your nose. “I love being close to you like this.”

⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ✩°｡⋆

[bwabys-scenarios]

Fixer Upper

Part 33

Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

pt 32

pt 34

warnings: spoilers for the chimera ant arc, violence

A/N: I was going to stop posting Fixer Upper here, but I wanted to just experiment and see if it will do well. If not it’s going to stay on AO3, so COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LOVE THIS SERIES!

taglist: @tsukilover11 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @sweetstraberrybear @superweeniehutjrsblog @bugmomwrites @heartsforseo @lixiawinter @altaircc @itszenava @fiightforlovee @mimi-sanisanidiot @wow-im-gay @whorermoviestar @lightshowerrr @mama-m1na @nenggie @wicked-binch @jamayah

‼️please have your age in bio and make sure you can be mentioned/tagged before asking to be in the taglist‼️

(Name) collapsed from exhaustion as the timer hit zero. She had finally managed to maintain ren for three hours, her body at its limit.

“Alright, you can go rest now. Once you’ve slept for a few hours, come back and do it again.”

She nodded, barely able to pick herself up and shuffle to her room. It was dark out, the boys had already left to challenge knuckle, and she was glad Bisky understood her limits.

If (Name) was forced to go fight knuckle after maintaining ren for that long, she would pass out before reaching the park.

‘Ugh…’

Lifting a spoonful of soup to her lips, (Name) ate, wincing at the temperature. It wasn’t hot enough to burn her mouth, but warm enough to be uncomfortable.

Bisky might be a bit less hard on her, but the training was still excruciating, and sometimes she just wanted to give up. When (Name) thought about quitting, the image of Kite’s severed arm flying through the air appeared in her mind, strengthening her resolve.

‘We have to save him… if… he’s still alive, that is.’

Taking another bite, she peered outside the window, staring at the full moon. Part of her wondered just exactly how she wandered up here, training until she nearly passed out and only getting a few hours of sleep between sessions.

Maybe if her parents had been better, if she hadn’t taken the Hunter exam, or maybe if Kurapika had chosen her instead of his revenge, she wouldn’t have to suffer like this.

She paused, shaking her head. ‘That’s selfish… why would I think something like that? Kurapika’s revenge is important to him… I just… wasn’t enough to try and balance friendship and his responsibilities to his clan…’

Her heart hurt, especially when she thought about him abandoning her so easily, as if the time they spent together meant nothing to him. All this time she had been making excuses, trying to tell herself that it was just how life was, but while she was exhausted and frustrated, she couldn’t help but feel a bit of hatred in her heart for him leaving her.

(Name) loved him dearly, saw him as her dearest friend and someone she wanted to be with one day… it made her upset to imagine him seeing her as nothing but someone to pass time with. Maybe that was all she had been, someone that would comfort him and be a shoudler to cry on until he didn’t need it anymore.

Until his heart hardened enough to where comfort wasn’t necessary.

(Name) played with her hair, plopping down on her bed after quickly washing her face and doing her night time routine.

‘I better sleep, Bisky won’t let me rest anymore than a few hours…’

She didn’t want to go to sleep feeling hateful, so (Name) closed her eyes and imagined him holding her close, kissing her head when she thought she was asleep.

It made her feel warm and fuzzy, her cheeks growing hot. One day, she wanted to get that Kurapika back.

Her Pika, not the Kurapika he had become.

——————

(Name) woke up when the sun barely began to peek through the window, shielding her eyes from the light. She then raised both of her arms to shield herself when she was hit again with a pillow, the real reason she had woken up.

“Get up, (Name). Gon and I are going to sleep, but Bisky wants you to go train.”

She whined softly, opening her eyes to see Killua hovering over her, holding a pillow and ready to strike again.

“Killua..? What time is-“

He brought down the pillow again, making her yelp. “H-hey, stop that, I’m up, I’m up!”

As she sat up, Killua huffed. “Finally, I’ve been trying to get you to wake up for 10 minutes.”

(Name) stood, rubbing her eyes before peering out the window. “What time is it? The sun’s barely out…”

“I don’t know… like 6 am? I wasn’t paying attention. Bisky kept throwing things at us.”

She shuffled across the room, opening her closet. “Alright, tell her I’ll be out in a second. Gotta change…”

Killua shrugged and left, leaving her alone to get dressed.

After putting on a simple, airy summer dress, (Name) made her way downstairs. Bisky was perched on a stool, looking at a… suspicious magazine. The front cover had a half naked man on the front, making (Name) raise an eyebrow, but she stayed silent.

“I see you’re up. Start ren.”

“Ren? But I haven’t had breakfast-“

“I’m not repeating myself.”

She tried not to groan, getting into position before starting ren.

Not only did she want to save Kite… but she was getting pretty freaked out by Palm’s ominous warnings.

‘I have to try harder…’

———————

“Ugh…”

(Name) walked on wobbly legs down the street. Her body was exhausted and she felt like she would pass out at any moment.

Between training with Bisky then eating and sleeping, she had little time for herself. So when she was given an hour of free time, she nearly ran to the park.

Well… (Name) couldn’t really run right now persay, but she moved as fast as possible for her exhausted body.

She nearly collapsed on the bench, taking out her phone to scroll mindlessly through social media while snacking.

A smile stretched across her face when she saw a picture of Leorio in his new scrubs, her eyes lighting up when she noticed he was holding a picture of their group.

She liked it before scrolling, nearly jumping out of her skin when someone cleared their throat in front of her.

It was that guy with the pompadour again!

“Uh… hello. You’re Knuckle, right?”

He nodded, narrowing his eyes at her. “And you’re friends with the two boys I’m fighting against,”

She blinked in confusion, tilting her head. “I- how did you-“

“Yesterday I fought against them and came back the their hotel room. You were asleep on the couch.”

(Name)’s cheeks heated up, and she scratched the back of her head sheepishly. “Ah, yeah… I was tired from training.”

Knuckle looked her up and down, frowning. “From what they said, you’re the one that’s going with the winners, right?”

She set aside her snack, turning off her phone. “Apparently, yeah. I’m not quite sure why Chairman Netero chose me, but I’m going anyways so I’m here to support Gon and Killua as much as I can.”

The man nodded, crossing his arms. “And how has that been going so far?”

A frown appeared on her face. In her mind, she hadn’t really done much of use. Despite being several years older than Gon and Killua, she was nowhere near their strength and amount of determination. All (Name) wanted to do was help her friends… and keep Kurapika out of her mind.

“Honestly? Not great. I feel so weak and helpless, and I think I’ll be more of a burden to the team if I’m the one that goes to NGL again. I don’t know why the chairman said I’m going for sure instead of Gon and Killua. They both have so much more skill and experience than I do in battle.”

“But are they as experienced in life as you?”

This made her pause, her eyes flicking up to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He shifted his weight, letting out a grunt. “Those boys may be strong, but they’ve had strength their whole lives. Neither of them truly knows what it means to be utterly weak and defenseless… but you do. You can better understand the battlefield from a different point of view.”

This was something she hadn’t considered. Knuckle offered her a hand, a smile on his face. “If strength is something you want, I can help.”

(Name) hesitantly took his hand, and the two wandered off to begin training.

——————

Kurapika scrolled through his old messages with (Name), laughing to himself at some silly pictures. It had been a rough day with missions going wrong and lots of whining from Neon, so he allowed himself a few minutes of rest.

And he couldn’t help but take out his phone and scroll to her blocked number.

His soft brown eyes took in her sweet smile and read through her jokes and kind words. He got so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed Melody calling for him until she was looking over his shoulder.

“Oh, is that (Name)?”

Kurapika jumped, his phone slipping from his hand and landing on the floor. He scrambled to pick it up, but Melody got there before he did. On the screen was a picture of (Name) in a bathing suit eating ice cream.

“Oh…”

Melody cleared her throat and handed the phone back to him, clearly a bit flustered and uncomfortable. “Apologies, I should have knocked. You’re a teenager, I didn’t even think that you’d be uh… looking at things like this.”

Kurapika nearly died on the spot, his face going red. “N-no, it’s not what it looks like! I was… just looking at old pictures we sent to each other.”

Melody paused, hearing a sorrowful song being sung by his heart. She let out a sigh, turning back towards him.

Although she wanted him and (Name) to reconcile, she could tell that him lingering on her memory while keeping distant was only hurting him.

“Don’t you think it’s… best to leave it alone? I’m not sure it’s fair to either of you if you’re going to act like this.”

His eyes turned scarlet, and he shoved his phone into his pocket before standing. “I don’t think it’s any of your business, Melody.”

“I think it is when you’ve been getting sloppy during missions, Kurapika! You get drunk at night then wake up so hungover you can barely work. How is that fair to the other body guards? Either work this out or…”

She stopped, placing a hand to her temple. “Either go back to her or don’t. If you’re going to break off the friendship, then you can’t be wishy-washy like this. It’s not healthy.”

Kurapika settled back into his chair as she left, staring down at his phone screen. Tears pooled in the corner of his eyes before he swiped them away.

His finger hovered over the delete button… and he clicked it over and over, getting rid of most of their messages and memories.

——————-

“Concentrate, (Name). If you can’t hit me, you won’t get any stronger.”

Sweat pooled down her forehead, her shirt soaked. It had been nearly two hours since (Name) began training with Knuckle, and he had only landed a single hit on him the whole time. His ability was annoying, but it was good practice sparring with him.

“Come on, just one more punch and you’ll get a break. Try again.”

She bit her lip, trying to focus and keep calm as he stood before her. Knuckle hadn’t been going easy on (Name), she had specifically asked him to fight her seriously… but god was she exhausted and ready for a break.

All of her nen focused into her fists, surprising him. She wasn’t one to be so reckless… Perhaps this could be a good development.

She sped up the very air around her fists, causing it to get hot enough to have him wincing when she thrust her fist forward.

Indirectly, she had hit him with an attack.

“That was… smart.”

He sat down, passing her a bottle of water, which she downed almost immediately. After collapsing on the grass, she caught her breath before speaking.

“Do you… think I’m getting any stronger? There’s only one more day until I leave for NGL…”

Knuckle waited until she had calmed down before he spoke. “I think you are stronger than you were a week ago.”

She blinked, then smiled, a big genuine smile. Before he could even react, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

“Thanks for this, Knuckle. I really appreciate it.”

The man was left a stuttering mess as (Name) stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I’ve got to get back home and start training with Bisky… that woman won’t tolerate any lateness.”

With a wave, (Name) ran off.

That night, she sat up in bed when she heard the alarm for the boys 3 hour ren training going off.

Opening the door, she peeked out to see Gon and Killua looking quite serious… though they were both grinning ear to ear.

“Are you boys going out again?”

Gon turned, giving her a smile. “Yep, today we’re going to fight him for real!”

(Name) rubbed her eyes as she walked in, still in her pajamas. “I see… I think you’ll do well, and I wish you the best.”

The two were pulled into her arms, a kiss placed on both of their heads. “Just… know that you’re both very strong and smart boys, sometimes… Even though you try your hardest, you can still fail. That’s life.”

Killua frowned, his head rested on her chest as Gon looked up at her. “We’re going to do it, (Name)! We’ll give it our all!”

She giggled, ruffling his hair. “I know you will. Now-“

The sound of paper tearing made them all jump. Palm was scribbling something terrifying onto paper, muttering something barely legible under her breath.

‘Yikes, I’m just glad I won’t be here tomorrow.’

————————

(Name) woke up in the morning, whining softly as she turned. It was Killua again… except this time, he looked devoid of hope.

She was instantly wide awake, throwing back her blanket so she could pull him into her arms. “Killua, sweetheart, what’s the matter? Are you okay?”

He sighed, letting her coddle him for a moment. It felt nice, after how awful his night had been.

“We… didn’t win.”

(Name) had expected as much. Killua and Gon waste my weak by any standard, but at the moment Knuckle was leagues ahead of them. From pure battleground experience alone, he had the advantage.

“I couldn’t fight… I kept…”

Killua choked up, clutching her sleeve. “I kept hearing my older brother’s warning… he always told me to never fight someone if I wasn’t sure I could win… how can I be friends with Gon if I can’t fight by his side!?”

She held him as he cried tears of frustration. He was so angry with himself for being weak, for being afraid.

“Killua, baby…”

There wasn’t much she could say or do, so she quietly pushed back his hair and kissed his forehead. “Maybe you should think about it for a while, sweetheart. Do you think Gon thinks the same way you do?”

Killua was silent, and she wasn’t even sure he heard her. The two stayed like that for a few minutes before he wiped his tears. “… Knuckle and Shoot said you need to be packed up by 3 pm. You’re leaving with them then.”

There was a look of hesitance on his face, and he gripped her sleeve tighter. “Are… you sure you want to go? It’s going to be dangerous, (Name).”

“I know, and I’m sure.”

She stood up, walking over to her dresser. “I’m going to pack, you can stay in here if you want.”

And he did.

(Name) stretched after stepping out of the van, leaning her head against Knuckle. It was strange, he seemed so fidgety after their training the day before.

“Knuckle.”

“Hmm?”

Gon stood before him, Knuckle’s nen technique still clinging to his shoulder from their fight. “Promise me… you have to save Kite!”

“Got it. I promise I’ll bring him back. I swear on this token.”

(Name) gave them both a hopeful, nervous smile, waving as she left. The two watched her go, both trying their best to stay strong.

———————

(Name) walked into NGL, wearing the clothes she had during her previous trip. Almost immediately she was pulled into a hole, yelping and falling onto her butt.

“Eek!”

Knuckle and Shoot landed across from her on their feet, getting into a fighting stance immediately. Knov and Morel stood before them, both of their gazes on (Name).

“We were told you have healing abilities, yes?”

(Name) was escorted to the chimera ant colony, where she was brought into the queen’s room. The ground was crunchy underneath her shoes, and the air was thick with tension.

There were doctors already working on her, and (Name) could tell that the creature was far past any saving.

“Hello…”

She knelt beside the queen, looking over her wounds. The doctor to her left spoke.

“Several organs have been damaged beyond repair, and she’s lost a lot of blood.”

(Name) frowned, looking over her body. “I’m… not sure I can do anything. If she had a missing limb or large cut, I could accelerate her atoms to heal faster. My ability speeds up time, if her organs are damaged or gone, all my ability will do is kill her faster, not heal her.”

The heart monitor started to slow, and the ant queen reached out her hand. She was trying to speak.

“Please! Please, you have to do something!”

A chimera ant named Colt grabbed her shoulders. “Anything, please!”

(Name) bit her lip, reaching out her hand. She tried to remember how it felt when Kurapika snapped at her… how time seemed to slow down and stretch forever.

Knov and Morel stared on in awe and disbelief, watching as the ant queen’s heart monitor slowed.

“I’ve stalled her organs failing… please, let her speak.”

‘She… slowed down time? Even for just a localized area, that’s an incredible feat!’ Morel thought, peeking over (Name)’s shoulder.

(Name) didn’t hear a single thing the queen said, all of her energy was spent on stalling just a little longer, keeping time still.

“She’s gone…”

With those words, (Name) collapsed covered in sweat. Shoot was closest, catching her before she hit her head.

——————

(Name) woke up in a feverish haze, her body feeling heavy and way too hot. As her eyes struggled to open, she heard something faint and distant.

Someone was speaking to her, trying to get her attention.

“(Name)..?”

As the fuzziness in her eyes began to fade a bit, she was finally able to focus on the figure sitting next to her bed.

“Ch… chairman… Netero..?”

The man before her had a calm look on his face, leaning back in his chair before speaking. “You’re awake. It’s been four days since you temporarily stopped time.”

“Four days!?”

She jolted up, nearly vomiting after the sudden movement jostled her.

“Easy there. Lay back down, there’s no need to rush. We need you to recover as quickly as possible, and that can’t happen if you’re trying to rush things.”

(Name) blinked her bleary eyes, settling back down and putting her head over her forehead. “You need me..? Why? I did one thing and now I’ve been out of commission for days.”

“You stopped time, (Name). That can be very useful to us.”

She huffed, looking around the room before her eyes settled on a glass of water. “I only slowed down time temporarily for a localized area. It's not enough to help anyone, much less-“

He handed her the cup of water.

“You kept the ant queen alive long enough for her to tell the others the King’s name. That’s crucial information tha can be used as a bargaining chip. It seems you don’t understand the potential you have and the impact your powers can have on the future.”

Netero watched her drink, sighing. “Slowing down time is something impossible, I’m not even sure how you were able to do it. When creating something with nen or performing an ability, it has to have some basis in reality.”

“Well…”

(Name) set the glass beside her, wiping the leftover water from her mouth. “All I did was imagine a moment where time seemed to slow down for me, and-“

“And you transferred that ability into nen! My girl, you’re quite clever, aren’t you?”

For the first time, Netero seemed genuinely impressed. He stood, walking over to a table and picking something up.

“Here, it’s your bag. I’m sure Gon and Killua will want to know what’s happening.”

He turned and walked towards the door.

“An enhancer will be coming by in an hour or so to help with the healing process. You should be good as new within a day or so.”

He paused, turning to look at her. “And make sure you don’t tell anyone about your ability. There are many people that would kill to be able to stop time… even for just a moment.”

With that, he left, closing the door behind him.

—————-

(Name) winced as Gon jumped into her arms, nearly knocking the wind out of her.

“Hey, hey, I’m alright…”

She frowned, petting his hair. Gon was completely quiet, his face hidden in her shoulder as he clutched her tightly.

‘He’s already nervous about Kite, I’m sure knowing I was in the hospital scared him…’

Killua stood by her bedside, reaching out to hold onto her shirt. The way Killua showed how he worried for her was pretty cute.

“Chairman Netero said I’ll be fine. An enhancer came by and checked on me a minute ago.”

The two seemed to relax a bit, smiling as they not got comfortable in her hospital bed.

“Ahh, now it’s cramped.”

They watched tv for a bit, eating hospital food and laughing. “You both seem like you’re in a better mood!”

“Yeah, that’s because Knuckle said he found Kite!”

(Name)’s face lit up at Gon’s words, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Wait, seriously? That’s amazing!”

Killua looked out the window, his eyebrows furrowed.

‘Knuckle seemed troubled when he told us… something is up.’

But he stayed quiet, not wanting to ruin the good vibes. Gon had been training so hard to save Kite… and Killua really wanted to believe everything would be okay.

The three spent the next few days together, sharing their experiences. They were both shocked to learn about her new ability.

“YOU STOPPED TIME!?”

(Name) quickly covered his mouth, shushing him. “Shh, I'm not supposed to tell anyone! It’s dangerous information….”

“Then why the hell did you tell us!?”

She sighed, giving him a smile. “Because you two are my friends.”

Killua quieted at that, hugging to try and hide his embarrassment and happiness. “Yeah, yeah…”

Gon leaned her head on his shoulder, smiling. “You’re both my friends, and… I care a lot about you both!”

Killua threw a pillow at him, his cheeks pink. “Oh will you both stop it with the sappy stuff!?”

Gon and (Name) giggled at him, making Killua even more flustered.

(Name) wishes times like these could last forever… but that could never be. Something felt wrong, there was going to be more pain and heartbreak sooner than she wanted…

But there was nothing she could do for now, so she held onto them both, trying her best to be their rock as the days passed by.

—————

Walking down the dark stairway to meet Kite for the first time in months should have been exciting… but all the three felt as they were guided into uncertainty was a nervous, anxious feeling.

Not a single one of them thought everything was okay. Even Gon had a strange expression on his face, half way hopeful, half way dreading what was going to be behind the door.

She put her hand on his back, smiling softly before giving him his space.

If she could stop time right then, she would have done everything in her power to keep Gon from seeing Kite in his current state.

Covered in stitches, staggering and twitching like a zombie. He had been shrunken down by Shoot’s ability, but grew to his full size when let out of his cage.

(Name) tried to stay strong for the boys, but tears threatened to fall from her eyes as she gazed at the man she had admired.

She could tell just from a glance that he had no more life inside of him. He was just a walking corpse with no nen or voice. There was no more communicating with him, he couldn’t be fixed…

Yet Gon walked towards him, allowing himself to be punched as he said it was okay.

(Name) winced, covering her mouth as Gon attempted to speak with him. It was heartbreaking…

Killua couldn’t move, couldn’t say a single word. His eyes were transfixed, moving to follow every strike Kite landed on Gon.

He was finally able to speak, broken from his trance when (Name) reached out to hold his hand and squeeze it gently to comfort him.

The others spoke, but (Name) didn’t hear a thing. The only thing she was focused on was how she would try to heal Gon with her nen after this.

If he would even let her.

Killua helped her up the stairs as they left, letting her lean against him. She was still weak from her overexerting her nen output…

While they walked, Knuckle came up from behind, taking her other arm. “Here, let me help.”

Though Killua really disliked the fact Knuckle had gotten so friendly with (Name), he allowed him to help. He seemed to put (Name) at ease…

“Is… Gon going to be okay?”

The group was sitting in a cafe now, watching as (Name) joined them at the table. She smiled, but it was obvious she was forcing it. “Physically, he’s fine. I healed him up… but…”

Everyone knew what was going unsaid. Gon was in emotional turmoil, struggling to cope with the current situation.

“… there’s still a few weeks before his Nen will be restored.” Knuckle stated, sipping on his coffee. “I guess we’ll just have to watch over him until then.”

——————

On the surface, Gon seemed okay, but both Killua and (Name) knew him well enough to understand it was just a facade. He was storing up all of his anger and strength so he could face off against Pitou.

After a few weeks, the ant extermination group met up in a relatively crowded restaurant, (Name) sitting between Killua and Knuckle as they watched the TV over head.

“What is the agenda behind the sudden flurry of activity recently observed in East Gorteau? Supreme leader Diego has personally invited all citizens in the capital city Peijing to celebrate the nation’s birth in ten days.”

As the news anchors continued to speak, Morel scoffed. “Colt believes the celebration will be used as a screening.”

“We don’t know what they’ll do with those found to have nen, but 99% of the humans there will die. We must stop it before that happens. Our time limit is ten days.” Knov finished, addressing Gon and Killua.

“What’s the old man up to?”

“He sent an email saying that he’s already inside East Gorteau, but I haven’t heard from him since.” Knov replied to Killua.

“Do you think he’s already been taken out?”

“If he fails to contact us today, we’ve been told to assume as much.”

At that, Knov’s phone began to ring. (Name) but her lip, of course Chairman Netero would call right at that exact moment!

“Speak of the devil, it’s the chairman.”

“That old man’s got some sharp ears.”

“He already knows everything, including the fact that you boys and (Name) are here. And that Morel is badmouthing him.”

The text read as follows:

“Divide into pairs and draw the Royal guard away from the king. The night before the celebration, the operation will begin at midnight. (Name), do not use your nen again until then. From the sharp-eared old man.”

“That guy really scares me…”

(Name) laughed at Morel’s words, but in the back of her mind she wondered why she wouldn’t be able to use her nen until then… what did Netero have planned?

[earl-grey-teacake]

Omg we need the Fernando Aston Martin story! It would be hilarious like just imagine George trying to convince Logan that he should drive for Mercedes but Logan doesn’t even know what he is talking about and because he practised his lines with Fernando he does not agree😂

Sorry it took so long 😅

******

"Logan, what's your favorite team?" George asked, his eyes laser-focused.

Unlike his father, Logan was more preoccupied with the green cap in his arms. "Aston!" He yelled, holding the cap up with the biggest smile on his face.

The response did not elicit the same effect with George sighing and Toto looking displeased, a silent "fix this". Lewis seemed quite amused at the situation, already texting Fred to get a team kit in kids size for Logan.

"No, it's Mercedes. Can you say Mercedes?" Stress evident in George's voice.

"Mercedes!" Logan smiled and pointed at the Mercedes logo in the engineer's room.

Lewis leaned over the table and asked, "Buddy, who's your favorite driver?"

Logan paused for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, his face pensive. "Alonso!"

"Ugh!" George put his head in his hands.

It was bad enough he foolishly let Fernando babysit Logan, "something something bonding with his nephew". Logan had come tottering back, happy from an exciting game of tag and lots of $200 Japanese grapes, going on and on to Shov, Marcus, and Bono about how "Aston was so fun" and their "Car is really fast" and the most egregious of all, "Aston is the best!" "Alonso is the best!"

Some of the engineers smiled while Toto's frown deepened. Lewis laughed, "Why? Why is Alonso your favorite?"

Like being asked to recite the alphabet, Logan recounted the script Fernando had him memorize, earning a fancy grape as a reward for each line he recited perfectly. "Alonso is the bestest driver in the world. He is fast, and cool, and really smart. He is better than the grid.”

Each word was slow, methodical, and said with a smile. Logan looked up expectantly at the crowd, clearly expecting a reward or praise for his perfect recitation.

“I’m going to kill Fernando!” George scowled as James Allison started to look at the upgrade package, deciding on what could be implemented for the next race that would leave Aston Martin in the dust. The others returned to their work, emboldened by a sense of either deep competition or revenge.

“Logan, come here. We’ll leave everyone to do their work” Toto called out. Logan hopped off the car and followed him, the green cap in hand. Maybe with enough treats, Logan can unlearn whatever ridiculous thing Aston Martin taught him. If Mercedes needed to fly in expensive fruit from Japan, they can write it off as a business expense.

Official F1 Group Chat [official use only]

George: watch your back Fernando

Lando: Woah

Max: ???

Charles: is this an official thing?

Carlos: what happened?

Alex: George

Fernando: what did I do?

George: you know what you did! Lance too!

Lance: What did I do?

George: brainwashed my son into an Aston Martin fan

Lando: 😧

Charles: 😮

Max: 😨

Carlos: 😬

Lance: it’s not brainwashing! He just saw the truth😎

Fernando: 😎 no regrets

Lewis: to the brainwashing?

George: I’m sending you both into a wall

Alex: George

Lando: bit of an overreaction

Fernando: Soon Oscar will see the light that is Aston Martin

Lando: Stay away from my son

Carlos: 😨

********

Thank you for the ask! I had a lot of fun answering this!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blurred Lines 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your boss takes an unpredictable turn.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Note: some more Nicky for the girlies.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Back to usual. 

You say goodbye to Joey with an especially clingy hug. She’ll be gone back to campus by the time you get home. Her short visits always leave you a bit sad.

You arrive at Nick’s place and let yourself in. The remnants of the prior day’s get together are still littered over the dining room table and throughout the front room. There’s more in the kitchen.

You gather the empty glasses and a few bottles with varying amounts of liquid still inside. You scrape plates into the pin and sweep napkins in after them. You fill the sink with warm soapy water to wash it all when you hear the soft but clumsy pad of feet on the stairs. They’re too light to be Nick.

You have the coffee brewing in anticipation of your boss’ hangover. The aroma wafts into the air as the machine clicks. A figure appears in the doorway and you turn to greet the woman in her sleek but wrinkled dress. This isn’t unexpected either.

“Good morning,” you greet her stunned eyes as she blanches.

“Um, I’m sorry, I was only–”

“Coffee?” You offer her as you open the cupboard, “look like you need it.”

“N-no, I… should go. Is there a Starbucks around here?” She croaks.

“No need, I can do lattes,” you offer, “he’s got this ridiculously expensive machine.”

“Er,” she looks down at the heels dangling from her hand then back to you, “sorry, are you… do you live…”

“I work for Mr. Fowler. Just the maid,” you assure her. Her assumption fills your chest with an unspent laugh. You’re far too old for Nick. Besides, the concept is ridiculous.

“Oh…” her single syllable dangles.

You pour her a cup and turn to offer it to her. Her mouth slants in a guilty smile. She shambles forward and accepts the mug.

“You take sugar, cream? Maybe some Advil?” You suggest.

“Oat milk? And yes please, my head is pounding.”

“Right, he has almond milk,” you open another cupboard and pluck out the ibuprofen, “or whole milk.”

“Almond is fine,” she accepts as you rattle the bottle.

“One or two, hon,” you ask as you approach her again.

“Two, please,” she inhales the scent of the coffee and sighs, rubbing her eye socket before extending her hand to take the tablet, “the whole bottle if I could.”

“Ugh, yeah, I don’t miss those days,” you hum and cap the bottle.

You put it away and go into the large fridge, taking out the carton of almond milk for the woman. You take it to her as she approaches the island to clink down the coffee. You watch as she adds the milk and takes a slender spoon from you to stir it in. She takes her first sip and moans before tossing back the pills.

“Coffee good?” You prompt proudly.

“Oh, yeah,” she looks up at you, “yeah, it’s great.”

“Took me a while to master the beast,” you point to the machine. “I finally got my ristretto down, too.”

She gives a nervous laugh and gulps again, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, “you’re nice… really nice. Why?”

You blink at her question. It makes you wonder, was Nick not nice? That’s not really any of your concern.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You shrug and turn to the full sink, “you’re a guest.” You plunge your hands in and scrub the porcelain, “plus, you kinda remind me of my daughter. I’d like someone to treat her nicely too.”

“Ah,” she accepts, “that’s really sweet.”

“It’s human, I hope,” you open up the dishwasher to slide in each plate.

“You really… didn’t have to make me coffee,” she murmurs.

You peek over at her as she stares into the depths. She seems sad but that might just be the hangover. You continue your work as you reply.

“It was already on. If you’re hungry–”

“Please, no, that’s okay,” she declines with a wave, “I think… I think I’ll just finish this and get an uber. Maybe go call my mom.”

“Well, you let me know if you need anything before you go,” you chime as you hook glasses into the top rack of the dishwasher.

You finish the dishes and grab a damp cloth to go wipe the table down. You stop by a few other surfaces to clear away rings from the finish and return to the kitchen. As you enter from the dining room, Nick appears in the other.

The woman faces him as she grabs her shoes, “hi.”

He growls and lumbers over to the coffee machine. He sees the mug waiting for him and peers into its empty body. You clutch the cloth in your hand as you watch his naked back tense. He wears nothing more than a pair of briefs. At most, you’ve seen him shirtless when he needs some stitches.

“More coffee?” You offer the woman.

“No, I should go,” she peeks at him nervously.

“Alright, well, you take care,” you bid her and take her cup.

“Thanks,” she says and skulks to the door, “bye, Nick.”

“Mmm,” he flicks his fingers at her as he pours himself a cup.

You narrow your eyes at his shoulder blades. That wasn’t very polite. Well, it isn’t your job to be his mother, even if it feels like it sometimes.

You put the almond milk away as he turns to lean in the corner of the counter. He presses the porcelain to his forehead and groans. You shake out the cloth over the sink and rinse it out.

“You have a daughter,” he states plainly. A question but not really.

“I do,” you answer evenly.

“I didn’t know that,” he says.

You shrug, “guess it never came up.”

"You’ve worked for me for three years…” he mutters.

“You never asked,” you say lightly, “it’s fine.”

He lowers the cup and slurps loudly. He swishes the coffee around before he swallows thickly.

“Your husband okay with you working twelves?”

You chuckle, “sir, really, it’s fine.”

His curiosity is not usual. You stick to the expected, the manageable. You don’t stray outside the lines. You’re friendly but you’re not overfamiliar. He always seemed to prefer that. He enjoyed talking about himself far more.

“You were busy yesterday,” he shifts his weight to one foot, his muscled chest rippling.

“I suppose as busy as you,” you roll in the racks of the dishwasher and add soap before closing it up.

“I… interrupted your plans?”

“Sir, it’s fine, I had a good day off and now I’m back,” you insist, “are there any other messes I need to worry about?”

He tilts his head and exhales deeply. His cheek dimples as he considers you. The cut on his head is exposed but not as bad as it was, though the bruise under his eyes has only gotten darker.

He scoffs as a smirk slants his lips, “sure. You could change my bed sheets.”

“Sure,” you accept breezily, repressing the glimmer of concern at the base of your skull. 

Something about his response seems trite, as if he means to insult you. You’re an adult, you’re less than shocked at his after hours play. By now, you’re quite used to it. He’s in his prime, he’s well off, and he’s handsome by anyone’s measure.

“You could try some witch hazel,” you touch your cheek then point at his, “for the bruising.”

“I can handle it,” he retorts and pushes himself away from the counter, “enough chattering. Get to work.”

🥃

You knock on the office door and wait for an answer. The little device you keep clipped to your belt is still buzzing with Nick’s demand. He calls to you from within and you enter.

“Sir?” You greet him.

“What took you so long?” He growls.

He’s in a foul mood. He has been all day. He can be gruff, you’re used to that, but today, he just seems prickly. His romp must not have been much fun. Come to think of it, his partner had been all too eager to flee.

You shake away the intrusive thoughts and clear your throat, “I was in the laundry room. Sorry.”

“My head is pounding,” he rubs his temples.

“Right, sir, I’ll bring you Advil and some water–”

“Don’t treat me like a child,” he snarls.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m sure I’m a lot older than your daughter, so cut it out.”

“I wasn’t– sir, I’m sorry.”

“Go, get the pills,” he shoos you, “and call Rhonda.”

You nod and leave him. Wow. You don’t think he’s ever spoken to you like that. The mention of Joey also puts you off. Why is he so concerned? Most people could look at you and assume you have a kid or too. At your age, with your hips…

You go downstairs to retrieve the Advil and a tall glass of water. You climb back upstairs and follow the airy hall down to your office. As you enter, he sits with his head in his hands, his elbows on the desk. You don’t say a word as you set down the glass and pills.

He doesn’t move. You back away slowly and pull out your cell phone. You’ll call the masseuse, she should be able to work out the tension.

As you get to the door, he growls and his chair squeaks.

“You said something, about witch hazel,” he snarls.

“Uh, yes,” you face him, “it’ll take down the bruising.”

He narrows his eyes, the gesture tweaking his swollen cheek. Even battered, he isn’t unattractive. And the woman in his kitchen was just as gorgeous. So you find it hard to fathom why he’s in such a mood.

“Would you like me to get it for you, sir?” You ask, trying not to sound too pandering.

“Sure, whatever.”

You sweep away and go down the hall to the cabinet. You keep everything stocked well. Part of your job is inventory. You’ll have to go through the liquor bottles later and see what needs replenishing too.

You return to him with the witch hazel and a bag of cotton balls. You place them on his desk as he leans his head against the chairback, his eyes closed. You step back on your heel and his eyes pop open.

“Would you mind?” He motions to his face.

“Sure,” you take the cotton balls and pull one out.

You uncap the dark bottle and dampen the cotton with the liquid. His eyes close again as you sidle closer and you dab gently along his cheek. He flinches, just once, then stills. It must be cold. 

His eyes flick open again and startle you as you retract your touch. Awkwardly, you move away and gather up the bottle and bag of cotton balls. He’s quiet as he leans forward to grab the bottle of pills.

“I should’ve guessed,” he says as he shakes two tablets out, “that’s what I do. I read people. You’re a mother, for sure. She’s older, isn’t she? College? You had her young–”

“Sir,” you sniff, uncomfortable.

“Just the one. And you didn’t answer me when I talked about your husband so he must be out of the picture. Divorced. About the time you came around here, huh? You need the job after the messy break up,” he suggests as he wags his finger with a knowing grin, “probably another woman, huh?”

You blink. You’ll let him think what he wants. His opinion of your marriage isn’t important. It won’t do to correct him anyway. He doesn’t really seem to care, he just wants to wound. You just can’t figure out what you’ve done to deserve it.

[alloftheimagines]

joel miller | survive

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

words: 4.7k

warnings: 18+! not for minors! please please please read the warnings and skip this one if you're uncomfortable with the subject matter.

episode eight reimagining with the same hard-hitting themes: blood, violence, cannibalism, sexual assault, killing, abduction, vomit. reader takes the place of ellie. angst. hurt/comfort. no happy ending as requested because i wasn't sure that could exist in these circumstances, but there is now a part two where joel takes care of reader and the fic ends on a lighter note.

prompt: Hi! Would love to request something for Joel Miller 🥰 Angst but with a happy ending, after seeing episode 8 I thought maybe reader is with Joel and Ellie, but this time Ellie stays back to keep an eye on Joel so reader gets kidnapped and is the one Joel basically comes back from the dead to save? hahshxdjfbf I just imagine them reuniting and UGH 🥹❤️ Feel free to ignore this if inspiration doesn’t strike!

tags: @sweetbabygirlsworld

You’re terrified of losing Joel. So terrified that instead of watching him shiver and sweat on an old, bloodied mattress as his infection spreads, you opt to go out and hunt. It isn’t solely selfish. You need food, and Ellie needs to rest. At least this way you’re doing something productive rather than waiting for a miracle. 

Still, it’s difficult to concentrate on anything but the knot in your stomach, the one that keeps asking “what if?” What if Joel doesn’t make it? How will you survive past that grief for long enough to keep Ellie safe? How will you go back to Jackson and tell Tommy that his brother is gone?

You’re lost in those thoughts when you hear the crunching of snow, and you try to shake them away, readying Joel’s shotgun as you search for the source. 

A deer. It’s so beautiful that for a second, you forget that it’s supposed to be your next meal. You’d forgotten beauty still existed in a world so broken, forgotten that nature can still be kind. 

But humans can’t. Not if you want to survive; not if you want Joel to survive. 

You take a deep breath. Adjust your posture. Shoot. 

The bullet doesn’t hit where you want it to; where you know you should have been aiming if only you weren’t so distracted. The deer darts away. Whispering a curse, you follow the trail of blood —

And find more than you bargained for. Two men wait with the dying deer at their feet. They look… clean. Comfortable. Not people struggling to find food or clothing. You raise your gun again immediately, and theirs point back at you. 

“Put your guns down,” you order, trying to sound braver than you feel. You did alright before Joel came into your life, but it’s been a while since you’ve been alone and it’s hard to summon the strength that used to come so easy. 

“You first,” the darker-haired man says, narrowing his gaze. 

The fairer man glances warily before slowly lowering his. Good. At least one of them is smart. 

“Not going to happen. On the ground. Kick it away.” You shift on your feet, gripping your gun tightly and readying your finger on the trigger. You don’t enjoy killing people, but you will if you have to. If it means getting back to Joel and Ellie. 

“James,” the unarmed man says, calm authority firm in his voice. The one in charge, then. “Do as she says.” He holds up his hands in surrender as his friend, James, finally puts his gun away. “We mean no trouble. We’d just like to talk.”

“So talk,” you bite out, making no move to lower your own gun. 

“Alright.” His breath is visible in the cool air, nose pink and runny. “My name is David. This is James. We’re from a town just south of here.”

“Good for you. Maybe you should go back now.”

An amused smirk twitches at his mouth. “Thing is, we have a lot of mouths to feed down there, and this deer… it would keep us going for a week. Maybe two.”

“Shame it isn’t yours,” you say.

A short sigh escapes him. “Right. It is a shame. But if I could offer you warm shelter and good food, a welcoming community, why couldn’t we share?” 

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not interested in negotiating.”

“With all due respect, ma’am… as far as I can tell, you’re all alone in these woods. There’s no reason why you have to be.”

It’s clear the other man, James, isn’t in on David’s kind offer. His mouth is pursed in a thin line, jaw grinding as though he’s holding back from saying something. Welcoming community, my ass. 

Still, an idea strikes. You need something else more than you need the deer, and if this town has supplies… “You have medicine in this town of yours?”

David hesitates before dipping his head. “We do.”

“Antibiotics?”

“Yes…”

Hope swells in you for the first time since Joel was injured. 

“If you put the gun down, we’d be much more open to discussing what it is you need,” he continues. “Please?”

Gulping, you slowly lower your gun — but you keep it in your hand just in case, stomach still filled with unease. Not every settlement will be like Jackson, and there’s something… off about these two. 

“If you get me that medicine, you can have the deer.”

“We can do you one better. We have a nurse down in the village who can help you with your injury. If you just come with us…”

“No,” you say. “You’ll bring the medicine here, to me.”

Another strange smile. “You’ll be much more likely to survive the winter if you let us help you.”

Impatient, you raise your gun again. “Bring it or stop wasting my damn time.”

David lifts his hands again. “Okay. Alright. James, go and fetch what the lady needs.” 

“David—” James begins to protest, but is quickly cut off. 

“Go on now.” 

Reluctantly, he does, and then it’s just the two of you. 

“I know a place you can get warm,” he offers. “It’s just through the trees. An old greenhouse. No need to wait out here in the cold.”

It makes your gut twist, how he seems to be determined to get you moving, to take you out of these woods. And there’s a glint in his eye, something untrustworthy there — even his right-hand man seemed to see it. Nobody follows orders like that with pure reasons. He’s… scared, or at least threatened. 

“I’m fine just here.”

“Okay. What’s your name?”

“I’m the one holding a gun, which means I’ll be the one asking questions. How many people are there in this town of yours?”

“Forty. Like I said, there’s room for one more. Perhaps it was God’s will, us meeting today.”

Oh, good, you think. He’s a God botherer. You didn’t particularly subscribe to religion before the world turned to shit, and you sure as hell have better things to do than pray now. 

“Unless you’re not alone.” His voice seems to lower as though he knows something, and you stiffen instinctively. “Is the injury yours?”

“It’s none of your business.”

He no longer seems to be staring down the barrel of your gun, but right into you. “Because a few of our men had some trouble a few days ago. A man, a woman, and a young girl. Man was thought to be badly injured, you see. If he lived… well, I’d imagine that kinda wound would be susceptible to a nasty infection.”

He knows. He always knew. The raiders you crossed paths with, the ones who hurt Joel… 

You no longer feel like the one holding the gun. You feel like the deer bleeding on the snow between you. Prey. Still, you set your chin. “I don’t know what you mean. I travel alone.”

“See, I believe you, but the thing is… my friend, James… he’s not so certain. I’d imagine that once he comes back with that medicine, he’ll be rounding up a few men to go hunting for these people. If what you’re saying is true, I wouldn’t want you to be caught in the middle of that. That’s why it’s much safer you just come with me now, see?” 

Your upper lip curls into a warning snarl, finger twitching on the gun’s trigger. But if you kill him, you won’t get Joel’s medicine. You’ll lose him. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” 

“Hmm.” He debates this. “There’s a third option.”

“Not interested.”

“I think you are,” he pushes. “I think you’re one of them, and I think you’re trying to help your man. Very noble, but strange. You don’t seem a good match. You’re so… young, so calm, and from what I hear, he’s dangerous. Ruthless, even. A cold-blooded killer. Maybe if you come into town with me now, we can arrange for that medicine to be delivered without my brigade charging in and doing some damage. There’s a place for you. Your daughter, too. You don’t need to be tied to him anymore.”

You want to scoff, or else laugh in his face. Does he believe you’re that simple, that stupid? Does he believe you’re a fucking damsel in need of saving?

Anger simmers in you at the thought. “I think it’s about time you shut up.” You point the barrel at his head now, right between his brows.

He doesn’t balk, doesn’t tremble, doesn’t so much as blink, and you’re beginning to understand. He’s the type of man who uses religion to veil whatever monster lies beneath. He isn’t some small-town do-gooder, though he might believe it. 

You dread to think what he might be capable of. 

“I think it’s about time you drop your weapon.” The voice doesn’t belong to David. It comes from behind along with the feeling of cold metal against the back of your skull. You risk a glance over your shoulder to see the man from before, James. You should have heard him creep up, should have seen, but you were so focused on the one in front of you.

Your heart thunders as you realise you might not get out of it this time. 

“We only want you to come with us,” David says, eyes round with feigned innocence. “That’s all. We don’t want to hurt you.”

“The gun to my head says otherwise. What would God say about this?” you retort, dripping venom because it’s all you have left. 

A strange sadness crosses David’s face. “It didn’t have to be this way.”

Before you can pull the trigger, something heavy slams into your skull, and then darkness swallows you whole. 

***

You wake in a cage, the taste of blood on your tongue and your wrists bound by rope. David is on the other side of the bars in what looks to be a kitchen, utensils hanging on the wall. Great butchers’ knives and cleavers wink at you in the watery daylight. You go cold with fear, crawling to the furthest corner of the cage. 

“Let me go,” you say. “Let me go!” 

“I’m sorry. It’s for your own good,” he says. “You were corrupted, but I can help you see the light again.”

“Why are you doing this?” You’re choking on a sob, thoughts of Joel and Ellie running through your mind. What if they found them? Joel is in and out of consciousness and Ellie can’t fight on her own. 

David curls his fingers around the bars. “It’s God’s will. I was meant to meet you today. This is where you’re supposed to be.”

“In a fucking cage?” you spit, voice echoing around the kitchen. You pull at the rope until your skin splits, crying out when you realise this is it. There’s no way out. You’re trapped, and you have no idea what this man truly wants with you. 

“This is merely a precaution,” he says. “I was wrong about you before. You are dangerous too. You have a dark heart, just like me. If you would just surrender, you could be part of this community.”

You squeeze your eyes closed, clamping down on a plea. You doubt it will do any good. Still, tears roll down your cheeks. “Fuck you,” you whisper. 

“You don’t understand yet. You will.” David takes a step back, and somehow the prospect of him leaving you here causes your stomach to turn to water. 

“Don’t do this,” you say. But he walks away with a glint in his eye that promises he will be back, and you’re left alone. 

Dizziness rattles through you as you pull yourself onto your feet, testing the sturdiness of the bars in hopes you’ll find a weak spot. But it’s padlocked closed and the screws are in tightly —

Something catches your eye, pale and fleshy on the kitchen tiles. 

An ear. 

In the kitchen. 

You vomit without warning as it all comes together. You wonder if the community even knows that their leader feeds them people. Wonder who was last in this cage and how long it took for them to become a meal. 

You scramble against the ropes again and pray — not to whatever fucked up God David worships, but someone — that you find a way out. 

***

“Joel!” Ellie shakes him frantically and finally he comes to. Sweat glistens on his forehead, his face drawn and pale, but he finally ate something earlier and she’s been keeping him hydrated as he drifts in and out of sleep.

Now, he frowns and hums in question.

“Y/N isn’t back. She didn’t come back, and now people are here.”

The sound of shuffling outside is only growing louder, and she keeps her voice to a whisper as fear grips her. It’s not like you to go more than two hours without checking in, even if you haven’t caught anything for dinner yet. That four hours have passed means something is wrong, and Ellie doesn’t know what to do, how to find you. She needs Joel. She needs you. 

“What?” Joel struggles to sit up, the mattress groaning under his weight as he clutches his injured stomach. But he’s alert, awake, and that’s better than he’s been in days. 

“She isn’t back,” Ellie says again, voice trembling now. “Someone’s here, Joel. They know about us.” 

Understanding clears through the fog in his eyes slowly, and he looks up as he hears the floorboards creak above. “Shit,” he curses, dragging himself slowly to his knees. Ellie watches, pulling out her own gun. “Hide somewhere. Let me deal with it.”

He’s in no fit state to deal with anything, but when Ellie protests, he shushes her and orders her to do as he says, so she does. And as he readies himself for a fight he can’t win, panic rushes through him. You’re not back. Somebody is here. 

He’s failed again, or at least is about to, and this time it’s you he’s afraid to lose. 

He summons that anger when the silhouette slowly stalks down the stairs. Summons it a lot more when he’s throwing an arm around the idiot’s neck to squeeze the life out of him. 

***

Joel has forgotten his injury. He’s forgotten anything but you; the thought of you alone, in danger, afraid. His fingers curl into fists at his side, and when the attacker finally rouses, he orders Ellie to leave the room. He doesn’t want her to see what comes next; who he becomes when he’s trying to protect the people he loves. 

Nausea twists through him, but it mingles with anticipation. Some sick excitement. He’s good at being violent. Better at being vengeful. 

“Where is she?” he asks, voice just steady enough to be assertive. 

The attacker mumbles something, and Joel’s patience quickly dwindles. 

“Who are you?” he asks, louder now. 

The attacker shakes his head. Doesn’t want to play. 

Joel brandishes his knife. 

The attacker’s eyes widen in fear as he presses the point into his finger, ignoring the throbbing in his stomach. “You want to do this the hard way?”

“I'm not telling you anything.”

Joel tilts his head and clenches his jaw. Then in one swift motion, he’s gripping the arms of the chair the attacker is tied to, quivering with anger as he towers over him. “Last chance.”

The attacker purses his lips, and Joel steps back, watching him sink in relief — relishing in that false sense of security. Then he throws the first punch, the impact of fist to jaw singing through his bones. He shakes out his hand, punches again. Blood splatters, but he goes again twice more just for good measure, growing weaker with every blow. He stops when he realises that, knowing he needs to conserve his energy to get to you. 

“Where the fuck is she?” he bellows.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” 

He plunges the knife into the attackers knee, the sound of bone crunching and flesh squelching as blood dribbles down his jeans and the attacker cries out. That’s when he begins to beg. That’s when Joel knows he’ll tell him anything. 

“Alright!” he’s whimpering. “Alright, please!” 

“Tell me where she is or I swear to god, I’ll pop you’re fucking kneecap off.” Joel drives the blade deeper, thirsty now. Desperate. He can’t do this without you. He needs you safe. If he finds out you’re hurt…

“With David!” he blubbers. “She’s with David in town!” 

“What tooooown?” (oh, you thought I wouldn’t?)

“Silver Lake!” 

“Who the fuck is David and what does he want with her?” 

“He…” the man chokes on his own sobs again, and Joel tugs on the knife, earning a piercing scream. “I don’t know what he wants, okay? He’s the leader! He… he took to her, I don’t know!” 

A chill crawls down Joel’s spine and his vision blurs as he pauses. His blood-drenched fingers tremble, and he doesn’t know how to make them stop. “What do you mean, he took to her?” 

The man spits out blood. “He likes her. Wants her to join him. I don’t know, man. I don’t know. I told you everything.” 

Joel wants to tear him apart then and there, but he pulls out his map, yanking the knife from the man’s knee to put the hilt in his mouth. The attacker howls, tears streaking down his cheeks. Joel wants to tell him he’ll do a lot fucking worse if he finds you harmed. He wants to say a lot of things, but cotton fills his mouth and he needs to find you. He needs to stop wasting time. “Point it out to me.”

“It’s not a real town. It’s just a fucking community. I don’t know.”

Joel grips the man’s collar, and his voice falls deathly low. “Point it out to me or I’ll make sure your other knee matches.”

It’s enough motivation for the attacker to pinpoint a spot. His blood stains the map, highlighting a small valley between the forest and mountains. 

Joel puts the map in his back pocket and slits the man’s throat before he can beg for his life. He’s not feeling merciful today. 

***

David comes back for you an hour later. “Have you reconsidered?” 

You only glare at him, your wrists bloody and your eyes gritty from so many shed tears. To your surprise, he unlocks the cage. Despite your better instinct, you stay seated, stay calm. You won’t get out of this if you try to run now. He has the upper hand, and you’ll let him have it, hoping his arrogance, his underestimation of you, will be his downfall. 

“You must be hungry,” he says. “Come. Let me show you what I can offer.”

Shakily, you rise from the ground. “Will you at least untie me?”

“I’ll think about it.”

He leads you out of your kitchen. When he’s not looking, you lean your back to the table and snatch an abandoned knife, slipping it up your sleeve. 

The front of the building is laid out like an old, cheap restaurant and bar, candles burning and booths lining the windows. 

“I’m glad you’ve calmed down,” he says. “Now we’ll get a chance to know each other properly.”

Slowly, you begin to saw at the rope with the knife as he leads you to a booth. Two plates are set at the table, a candle lit in the middle, and you think about the ear on the floor. Wonder if the meat in the stew is not animal, not your deer. You want to throw up again, but you swallow down the bile in favour of relief: the rope has snapped. You keep your hands behind your back as you shuffle in your seat, trying to avoid looking at the meal. The smell of it makes your stomach turn. 

“What do you want from me?” you ask finally. 

David places a napkin on his lap. “I’m showing you hospitality. Hospitality you haven’t earned, might I add. Where is your gratitude?”

“Where the fuck is my medicine?”

Without warning, he stands and slaps you, and you can’t control your anger as the sting prickles along your cheekbone. You throw your plate at him, the food splattering his face and staining his shirt, and then you run. 

A mistake. He hauls you back quickly, and the two of you topple to the floor as he slams your wrist down, forcing the knife away. He pins your hands and then straddles you, and you know what comes next. You know, and you shouldn’t, and this isn’t happening. 

“You need to be taught some manners,” he croons, taking your chin in his hands. “A girl like you… you need to learn how to submit. Especially when we’re married. But don’t worry.” He leans down as you squirm, whispering into your ear, “We have time for that.”

“No!” You shout, slapping him away and doing your best to wriggle away. But he’s heavy on top of you, and he’s reaching for his belt, and there’s no way out. No hope. Nothing. “Get the fuck off me, you sick bastard!” 

He slaps you again, lash twice as hard this time, and you taste blood. 

You refuse to let it end like this. You refuse to let him destroy you. You let your body go slack as he unbuckles his belt, reaching out a hand and scrambling for the knife again. It’s under a chair not far from you — you just have to wriggle a little further. 

“It’s sad that you can’t accept that this is how it’s supposed to be. This is God’s will. You and me… we’re the same, underneath. We have the same violent heart,” David is muttering, and there, your fingertips brush the hilt. Determination renewed, you extend yourself again and this time the knife falls into your hand. 

You don’t have time to think; he’s unbuttoning his jeans, and like hell are you going to spend another moment beneath him. You drive the knife straight into his neck, and his eyes bulge as he gurgles on his own blood. As he goes limp, you push him off you — and stab again, again, again, spitting every bit of revenge into your movements as his blood covers his skin and your clothes. 

“You twisted fucker!” you’re yelling, tears rolling down your face as the shock draws in, the disgust. He’d been so close to taking you. So close to making you a victim after so long spent fighting to be a survivor. “Go to fucking hell!” 

You only stop when the fear numbs and you realise he’s no longer moving. Blood soaks both his shirt and yours, and you push yourself off him. His dead, milky eyes stare at you. When you catch a candle guttering in your periphery, you grab it. Crouch with it in your hand. Light him on fire. The flames spread along his clothes, and that’s how you leave him. 

Ashes. Bloodied, dead ashes. 

***

Joel and Ellie have fought their way through a blizzard. He’s surprised he’s still upright, but he saw bodies hanging in the stable and he can’t collapse now. Not for Ellie, and not for you. This community is built on something worse than infected or fascism, and when he found your jacket, your backpack, in that same room as the corpses… 

He can’t see anything but red and white. 

Ellie stops behind him suddenly. “Did you hear that?”

“What?” He catches his breath, looking around. There’s a long building close by, but he hasn’t seen any movement yet. 

A scream rents through the air, and he knows it’s you. His heart picks up, stomach plummeting as he runs around to find the entrance. And there you are, collapsing out of the doorway. 

He says your name as he catches your wrist, and you instantly cower away, screaming. “Please, no! Please, don’t!” 

He’s never heard you beg for anything before, and his world tilts on its axis. What the fuck have they done to you?

“Baby, it’s me!” He draws you close, cupping your jaw with his palms. Your eyes are haunted, face pale, and there’s blood. So much blood. You’re still fighting him, pushing on his chest, and he stumbles back. “It’s me. Look at me. It’s me, darlin’. It’s Joel!”

Your breaths are ragged as realisation finally dawns across your features. “Joel,” you whisper. 

“It’s me,” he says again, eyes filling with tears.

Your gaze moves to Ellie, and only then do you crumple. He catches you just before you fall to your knees, straining against his injury. “Oh, baby. Oh, baby girl,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’m here now. I’m here now. You’re okay.”

Sobs wrack through you and he wraps his arms around you, holding on so tight he worries he might hurt you. But you clutch his shoulders just as hard, fingernails digging through his coat. You shake beneath him, and his own tears drip onto his cheeks. He pulls away quickly to look you up and down. Blood streaks through your hair.

“Where are you hurt, baby? Tell me where it hurts.”

You shake your head. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know, Joel. I don’t…”

It’s like you’re not even here with him, and he wants to break. But he has to stay upright for you. He has to be strong for you. He shrugs his coat off quickly and puts it around you, catching sight of your reddened wrists as you adjust the collar. Those bastards tied you up. Hatred drowns him, and he looks at the building you emerged from only to find orange flames flickering in the window. It must have been you, he knows, and he can at least feel proud of you for that, but still, the thought of what they might have done...

“Alright. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He pulls you to his chest, offering his other hand out for Elllie. She takes it, looking shaky as she carries both her bag and yours. 

“They were… They were eating people, Joel,” you say, voice thick and unrecognisable. “I just wanted to get medicine, and they took me. They took me. They were eating people and he was going to… He wanted…” 

“I know,” he murmurs, holding you tighter. “I know.”

You stop without warning. “They said they had medicine. You… We have to go back.”

“No, no, hey.” He laces his fingers through yours. “We ain’t going back there for anything.”

“The infection—” you protest.

“Look at me. I’m here. I’m okay. I just needed to rest is all. We don’t need any medicine now. We just need to get you somewhere safe.” His heart pangs. The fact you’ve been through hell and are still willing to go back to help him… sometimes he wishes you weren’t so damn selfless. He should have been the one protecting you today. It’s his fault you’re here. His fault you’re hurt. 

You scrape your hair back and then, looking at your shaky fingers, seem to finally see all the blood. “His blood is in my hair.”

He can at least be relieved it isn’t your own, but the look on your face… he’s never seen so many scars written in one expression. 

“I need to get it out. I need…”

“We’re gonna. We’re gonna help you clean up soon, okay?” He tucks your hair away, lost, because he doesn’t know how to do anything else. Doesn’t know how to make it all go away. “I’m so sorry, baby.” His voice cracks.

Your chest heaves with a stifled sob as you rub your hands and look out towards the lake. “Oh, god.”

Joel closes his eyes, wrought with regret. At his side, Ellie turns her gaze to the floor. It’s his worst fear come true. The reason he’d tried to get Tommy on board with taking Ellie the rest of the way. 

He’d failed again. Was always failing. 

All he can do is hold you close as you fall apart.

[mattyriddlegf]

The Stupid Closet (14)*

Happy release day Sunday everyone! Please comment to be added to the tag list as always.

!! This chapter contains smut !! Please remember that all chapters marked with * are NSFW! The story gets a little spicy from here on out ;)

enjoy!

-----------

Monday comes around and after classes, you can’t find Theo. 

He skipped out on quidditch and Mattheo hadn’t seen him at all. Which meant you couldn’t officially break up with him yet and that he was in a bad mood…not that you blamed him.

You and Mattheo are sitting in the library, working on divination homework when he places his hand on your cheek. 

You turn your head towards him, “Matty no.” You stress.

He squints his eyes but keeps his hand where it is on your face, “Matty seriously, I want to wait until I can talk to Theo.”

“I know but just one kiss?” He begs.

You put down your pencil and turn your whole body towards him, “Mattheo.” You look at him pitifully.

“Ugh fine.” He takes his hand off and turns back towards the desk, looking at the school work, “I don’t want to be doing this right now.”

“Me neither…believe me. But we have to because I am not going to fail. And I’m not gonna let you either.”

Mattheo just stares at you with puppy dog eyes, knowing you would eventually crack. He was catching on to how much you loved his eyes.

“Ok fine. One kiss, that’s it.” You give in. Mattheo instantly smirks and pressed his lips to yours. You smile into the kiss before he backs away.

“Thank you.” He says happily before he turns back to the desk and picks up his pencil.

You laugh, shaking your head, “unbelievable.”

You turn and continue working for a bit until you hear Theo’s voice. You turn around to see him speaking with the librarian.

You stand up, placing your hand on Mattheo’s shoulder for a second, notifying him before you walk towards Theo.

You wait behind him and when he’s done speaking, he turns around to face you. He rolls his eyes and starts walking towards you.

“Hi…” you say quietly.

“Hi.” He replies plainly.

“Uhm…I’ve been looking for you, I need to talk to you.” You say.

“Well you found me.” 

“Look I’m sorry about how I’ve acted towards you. I was just really confused…but I’m not anymore.” You start, “Theo, I want to break up.”

“Of course. I figured this was coming.” He says emotionlessly while scoffing. His eyes move past you, seeing Mattheo watching with your stuff by his and your empty seat, “Did you sleep with him?”

He can’t quite meet your eyes, “what?”

“Did you sleep with him? Yes or no.” He repeats quietly.

“No.” You try to reassure him.

“Just stay away from me.” He says before walking away, taking a second glance at Mattheo.

You turn around and walk back to your seat, sitting down next to Mattheo.

“You ok?” He asks.

“I’m fine.” You turn and smile towards him, trying to act normal. He stares at you for a second, not believing you but he doesn’t say anything.

You two continue to finish your work, taking turns glancing at each other but not once talking about Theo or your relationship. You knew Mattheo could sense that you were trying to ignore it all for the moment.

You finish writing the last piece of the assignment, putting down your pencil.

“I think we deserve dinner, yeah?” You say happily.

You look over to Mattheo to see him looking back at you, “or we could do something else…” he suggests.

“You have a one track mind, don’t you?” You say scooting forward. 

“Maybe…” he trails off, taking his gaze down to your lips.

You stare at him for a moment before deciding, “Oh fuck it.” You say. You both stand up hastily, grabbing your books and practically running out of the library. 

You get back to the Slytherin house and immediately head for your dorm, passing by Draco and Pansy on your way up.

Once you get in the door, you shut and lock it behind you, instantly throwing your books to the side and pouncing on Mattheo. 

You jump up, wrapping your legs around his legs. This kiss is fast and sloppy. 

You start pulling at his tie and once you pull it over his head, you jump back down to the floor. He unbuttons his shirt as you pull your shirt over your head.

He looks up, smirking as you stand there waiting for him to unbutton the last button. You’re practically squirming.

“So impatient” he says before he grabs your back and pulls you in, kissing you again. 

As he kisses you, he unclips your bra and you shimmy it off without breaking the kiss. You laugh into the kiss, this not feeling real. 

This felt so weird but oddly makes so much sense. All you knew was that you were getting naked with Mattheo. Then it hits you.

“Wait.” You blurt out.

Mattheo backs away, “you ok?”

“Yeah I’m fine…it just hit me that I’m about to have sex with Mattheo Riddle.” You say stunned.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing” Mattheo says, holding your cheeks, your faces just a couple inches away.

“Not even close.” You smirk before reconnecting your lips. After a moment, you drop down in front of him, undoing his buckle and then unzipping his pants.

You could see the bulge in his pants, indicating just how hard he was for you.

You look up to him, Mattheo watching you, as you pull down both his pants and his boxers. 

His cock springs out in front of you and you smirk at him before dragging your finger along his length. You can feel him twitch before you lick his tip.

He throws his head back and grabs your hair, “oh fuck.”

You move your mouth up and down his shaft but taking special attention to his tip. That was his sweet spot, every time you licked it, he’d let out a moan.

You use both your hands and your mouth as he holds your hair in his hand, tangling it.

After you feel him start to twitch, you back away, licking your lips.

You stand up and turn around, your back facing Mattheo now. As you unzip your skirt, Mattheo wraps his hands around your waist and starts playing with your breasts, one hand on each.

You let out a moan as he twists your nipples, your skirt falling to the ground. Once it’s on the floor, you turn around. 

You jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist. Mattheo starts sucking on your breasts as you pull your hair behind your shoulders.

You throw your head back, “Mattheo please.” You beg.

He turns around and walks towards the bed and he kisses you before dropping you onto the bed.

He crawls on top of you, his chain dangling down as he kisses you.

He crawls off of you to put on a condom as you spread your legs, getting impatient.

“Look at you, all spread out for me.” He smirks.

He climbs back on top of you and you lock eyes until you feel him insert himself. You knew he was big but this was overwhelming.

“Holy shit” you breathe out, feeling pain only for a second until a feeling of euphoria takes over your body.

Mattheo finds a pace, pumping in and out of you. You close your eyes as you grip the sheets around you.

“No, look at me.” Mattheo mutters. 

You open your eyes, watching him as he looks back at you. 

“Such a good girl for me.” Mattheo says as he quickens his pace, causing an animalistic moan to come out of you.

He’s gripping your thigh so hard, it’s going to leave a mark tomorrow as you feel your high coming.

“I’m almost there Matty” you manage to say.

“Cum for me baby” he replies, slowing his pace again as you climax. The feeling of euphoria takes over your whole body as you arch your back, still gripping the sheets.

You take deep breaths in and out as you come down, mattheo still pumping in and out a couple more times before he climaxes. 

“Fuck.” He says under his breath as he pulls out of you.

You continue to lay on the bed, catching your breath and Mattheo takes the condom off before grabbing a towel and wiping you guys down.

You prop yourself up on your shoulders, watching him be gentle with you.

You don’t say a word, still sitting on the bed, until he starts to put his pants back on. 

You get up and go to the bathroom quickly before coming out. He stops doing his belt to watch you as you walk over to your dresser and pull out the shirt he gave you.

You pull it over your body before grabbing your underwear and putting those back on as well. You walk over to the bed and sit criss-cross next to Mattheo, looking at him.

You run your hands through his hair as he speaks up, “I like that shirt on you”

“It still smells like you” you smile.

taglist: @helendeath @mayamonroem @princessluvssleep @hatakemrs @feistyfox47 @iamdnb @malydiavsss @schaebickel @swamp-box

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

hello!! I loved what's in between so much and I need some more miguel o'hara fluff😭😭

if you're talking requests could you write one about how miguel and the reader have obvious feelings for each other but arent dating, Peter b trying to be the wingman and tagging mayday along while trying to set them up.

idk if this prompt has any scope, but I just liked the idea 😭😭

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: You have feelings for Miguel, so Jess and Peter decide to play cupid and help you out a bit :3

Warnings: None!! It's just pure fluff, silliness, paired with the classic best friends to lovers. Enjoy!!

You had a problem.

You had a very, very big problem.

Alright, so it wasn’t that big of a problem, but it lingered on your mind day and night. From the moment you woke up to the moment you went to bed it was on your mind.

What was it, you ask?

You might, just maybe, have feelings for your best friend. Now, you knew the tropes. Best friends to loves was arguably one of, if not the best trope to have. But those were stories, this was real life. It made it all the harder when your best friend was Miguel O’Hara, leader of the Spider Society.

Frankly, it was a miracle you even became friends with him in the first place. Somehow you had wormed your way into his heart and had the honour of being his closest friend. This however meant that it was highly unlikely for anything to progress further beyond the scope of platonic love.

This was a fact that you had grown to accept in the months of realizing your feelings. This didn’t mean you didn’t mope over it though.

~

“Ugh,” you groaned loudly, your forehead pressed into the cafeteria table as you lamented your feelings out into the world. A happy giggle interrupts your swirling mess of thoughts, however, and you turn your head and are met with the sight of Peter B. and Mayday by your side.

Lifting your head up, you open your arms and Mayday happily climbs into your lap, babbling softly. You feel your heart warm a little as she played with your fingers, her red hair a mess as she laughs happily.

“Can’t stay upset for long when this little one is around,” Peter says, smoothing out her hair that somehow only becomes more messy.

“This sucks, Peter,” you whine to the man, and he smiles sympathetically.

“We’ve all been there y’know,” and you only huff slightly. Peter was another one of your closest friends and the one you happened to rant to the most about your unspoken feelings.

“Would it hurt so much to just tell him?” he asks, and you whip your head over dramatically, a horrified expression on your face.

“I would quite literally rather take a dive straight down into Earth-67982 with all the gators than tell him,” you say, and Peter only snorts.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad! How do you expect to get anywhere if you never tell him how you actually feel about him,” he says, and while you knew he had a point you chose to disregard it.

“I’m perfectly happy where I am Peter. Single, and still with a best friend,” you say, but you sigh softly. “It’s not that easy anyway. There’s no way he likes me back, and it took him long enough to talk to me beyond anything superficial like the weather or the happenings of other universes. How am I supposed to confess to him,” you say, pinching Mayday’s cheek lightly. She scrunches her face up and you can’t help the giggle that escapes.

“Ah, relationship woes?” Jess jumps in, and you yelp in surprise while Mayday only laughs at your expense. You glare at her playfully and she imitates your expression in turn which makes everyone around the table laugh.

“We’re not in a relationship, so I don’t think it really counts as a ‘relationship woe’ Jess,” you say, turning to the woman as she settles in next to you for lunch.

“You could be in one if you mustered the guts to actually confess instead of pining for him like a lovesick teenager,” she says, and you shoot her a deadpanned look.

“There is no way in the 7 hells that I am ever going to confess to him, I mean, just look at him,” you say, nodding over to where he was picking up his own lunch from across the hall. “In the billions of possibilities that exist, there is not a single one where he likes me back.”

“Don’t see yourself short, you never know,” Peter says as he and Jess share a look, cogs turning as they scheme their own plots.

~

You were just walking about the HQ, stopping periodically to talk to the Spiders you knew. It was your day off, and your own universe decided to be boring today so you figured what better place to hang around than Earth-928?

Well, it was supposed to be your day off, until your name is called over the intercom alongside Miguel’s, telling you both to come to the monitoring room.

With a groan, you nod to the Spider you were talking to before walking over.

“Jess? Is something wrong?” you ask as you pop into the room, Miguel is already there and turns to nod to you in greeting which you return with a grin.

“There’s a mission I need the two of you to go on,” she says offhandedly, swiping through the screens as she studies the universe’s events.

“But Jess, it's my day off! There are literally hundreds of other spiders you could send on this mission,” you whine, the aches of the mission from yesterday still lingering on your body. Though almost imperceptibly she glances over at you, making it clear that there were hidden intentions behind this mission, and you press your lips together knowingly. You supposed she was in the mood to play Cupid.

“Why do you need us specifically?” Miguel asks, eyes narrowing suspiciously. It was his day off too, you were about to go see him as he worked on all his gizmos, he still wore his work outfit in place of his regular suit.

“This guy’s a bit of a tough one, so Lyla and I decided that we needed our best out in the field. Be ready to head out in 20, he’s already on the move,” she says, and you sigh lightly, unable to disobey orders.

Miguel only pats you on the shoulder.

“Bold of you to assume you think you can order around the Leader of this place,” he says jokingly.

“I can order around anyone I want when the Leader puts me in charge for the day,” Jess retorts as she puts her hands on her hips.

“Good point,” he relents.

“Uh-huh.”

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” you say to Miguel as you head out together.

~

“…wasn’t this guy supposed to be a ‘tough one’” you say, quoting the air as you stare down at the anomaly you were supposed to take down. Miguel only snorts in response before shrugging. There, in your line of sight was the anomaly; a snail that moved at a top speed of maybe 2 kilometres per hour that a single well-placed trap could take down in seconds.

“Easier for us,” Miguel says simply before swinging down and doing just that. Immediately the force field wraps the villain up like a present, and his mask disappears from his face as he looks over at you.

At that moment felt your heart skip a beat as he grins up at you playfully.

“Are you going to hang up there all day or are you gonna head back with me?” he calls out as a portal opens up, snapping you out of your stupor.

“C-coming!”

~

“Peter, why don’t you get one of the younger spiders to babysit? Don’t get me wrong, I love Mayday just as much as the next person but I’m not that great with kids,” you say with a worried smile.

“That’s why you’ll have Miguel to help! I think you two will make a great team,” Peter says, handing Mayday over. You eye him suspiciously when the realization strikes.

“This is all a ploy to get me and him together, isn’t it?” you ask, and Peter puts on an oblivious face.

“What? No! No way, this is just a friend asking for a favour,” he replies.

“Don’t lie! You and Jess have been up to something for the past week, that mission, the closet, and now this,” you huff.

“Alright, fine. Maybe we did plan this out, but maybe the two of you just need the push,” he says, a hand on the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Peter, he doesn’t like me back. I know that already,” you say frustratedly, but sigh softly. “I’ll help you out, but no more games alright?”

“Alright,” he relents. “Thanks for this though. MJ and I haven’t had time to ourselves in a while,” he says, and you give him an understanding look.

“What are friends for?” you smile.

~

“Mayday! Get down from the ceiling, please?” you plead, watching as she babbles happily while crawling across the ceiling. You were right up there with her as Miguel stood on the floor with his hands on his hips, watching with blatant amusement.

“Miguel, a little help here please?” you ask him, and he only snorts.

“You seem to be doing just fine,” he says, and you let out a groan. Finally he gives in to your pleading.

“Solecito, you wanna come down now? I think you’re going to give your babysitter a heart attack,” he says and immediately she drops down from the ceiling into his waiting arms. You let out a sigh of relief as you follow suit.

“She only listens to you, I swear,” you say as you look at her, huffing softly.

“She likes playing around, and you have the most reactions so you’re her main target,” he replies, and you boop her nose playfully.

“You’re a little menace, aren’t you.” She only babbles happily at that.

“I’m going to grab her lunch, will you be okay by yourself?” you ask Miguel, and he bounces her up and down as she giggles loudly.

“We’ll be just fine, won’t we chiquitita,” he says with a small smile. It makes your heart warm as you watch them play together. You knew how hard it was for Miguel to be around Mayday after losing his own daughter, but he seemed to truly adore the little girl. It was precious to watch.

“Alright, I’ll be right back.”

~

After searching aimlessly for a few minutes, and a couple of mishaps you finally have a small bowl of food to feed Mayday. When you come back into the living room, you find Miguel sitting on the floor with Mayday in his lap, a toy grasped in her hand.

“I think you’d make a really good parent if you ever want to have kids one day,” Miguel says offhandedly as he continues to watch over the little girl. You feel your cheeks warm in embarrassment at the compliment.

“Seems like the same would go for you, Miguel,” you say as you watch the two of them fondly. You can’t help the thoughts that flash through your mind. The two of you, together, sitting in a nursery just like this one with a child of your own. It was far-fetched and would probably never happen, but it doesn’t hurt to imagine all the ‘what-ifs’.

“Though that’s ironic of you to say considering I was just hanging on the ceiling trying to get her down not even 15 minutes ago,” you say, and he chuckles lightly.

“Parenting isn’t always smooth sailing, but you have a softness that makes the little ones feel safe. I see it when you’re with Mayday, even with the kids at HQ. Don’t sell yourself short,” he says, glancing over at you before holding out his hand to take the food. Somehow you feel your face heat up even more as you sit down by his side.

“Thanks, Miguel,” you say softly, and he only hums in response.

~

After all the events of the last week, you find yourself lost in all your swirling feelings. All those possibilities, all those moments you spend with Miguel wishing that they were more, it quickly became overwhelming. It’s why you find yourself trekking up to the observatory of HQ.

This was your favourite spot to come to when you were stuck in your head. Very few of the Spiders knew about it, which made it the perfect hiding spot when you wanted to be alone with your thoughts.

The ceiling panned up into a dome of intricate glass, allowing the light of the stars to shine through. Though realistically it was more the light of the futuristic Nueva York, the city that never sleeps. It didn’t make it any less beautiful though.

“So this is where you’ve been,” a voice cuts through the silence, and you jump slightly as you turn around to face Miguel who only chuckles at your expense.

“You found me,” you say softly, smiling at him though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. A look of concern washes over his face, and you wince.

He could always read you too well.

For a moment you just sit there in the silence, the only thing breaking the quiet being his soft footsteps as he approached you. Every step he took had your heart racing faster and faster until finally, he was by your side. Glancing at him, you see that he’s already looking at you, and there was something on his mind.

“Do you like me?” he asks softly, and you turn away from him, instead choosing to look out through the windows. Slowly, you sigh, still unwilling to make eye contact.

“Do you want me to be honest?” you say just as softly.

“I do.”

A lump forms in your throat as you fidget with your hands a bit, wondering if you should just lie. If that would make this any easier.

It was hard for you to be vulnerable with people, from a young age you were conditioned to hide how you felt because it made you seem weak. And even worse, you were told it made you a burden on other people.

You never wanted to be a burden.

It was hard for you to be honest with your feelings…especially if they were about how you felt about someone you loved. You think this is the first time you’ve ever loved someone like this, and you swallow harshly at the thought.

“I do…like you,” you whisper finally so that only his ears could hear. “I know it's cliche, but it's nothing but the truth when I say that I’ve never felt, felt feelings with anyone else the way I do with you,” you ramble, realizing that once you started you weren’t able to stop yourself.

“It makes me scared, Miguel. Feeling this way? I don’t know how to do this,” you gesture between the two of you, but still hesitating to look into those beautiful crimson eyes you adored so much.

“You’re my favourite person. Throughout every universe, every infinite possibility it’s still true. And I’m scared because it seems like throughout my life every single time I have something good it slips out from beneath me, and I can’t afford to lose you. I, I can’t,” you say, a single tear trickling down your cheek.

For a moment he doesn’t speak, and the car falls silent until he inhales lightly.

“That…is a possibility, it’s true. Maybe what we have, what we could have won’t work out. But maybe we’re that one possibility where us together is possible,” he says as he takes your hand into his own. It was warm.

So warm.

Finally, you dare to look into his eyes, and inside them, you find a swirling storm of emotions that you get lost in.

“Can we do this? Do you think we can?” you ask hesitantly.

“As long as you’re willing to try, mi vida,” he says, squeezing your hand lightly.

“I think…I want to try,” you say softly, and his eyes immediately brighten up like the sun rising over the horizon, lighting up everything in its path. He smiles at you, and you can’t help but smile back.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, and all you can do is nod as you feel your heart jump to your throat in anticipation. You’ve never wanted to do anything more.

Gently his hand rises up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before settling on your cheek as he leans in. You close your eyes as his lips touch yours, and a small happy sound escapes your throat.

It didn’t feel like how the love stories described how your first kiss would be, with explosions and fireworks.

No. It felt like the first breath of fresh air on a warm sunny day. Like the heat of a fire after a long day in the cold.

Kissing your best friend was like coming home, a comfort in every sense and oh so right.

After a few seconds that felt like an eternity condensed into a single moment, Miguel pulls away. You look up at him with teary eyes, not tears of sadness but instead pure and utter joy as you smile brightly.

“I think this might be the start of something wonderful,” you say to him.

“I think so too, mi vida.”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading because that entire confession was what I imagined I would say to my crush ghfkjghdfkjghfdk (I was in my feelings, as a result this fic was born)

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid, @remuslupinwifee, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @rawegggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana—belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @ieatmunson, @honeii-puff, @wh0re4zaynmalik, @toplinehyunjin, @ohworm-writes, @ishii03, @snowywhiterose, @leftcupcakedefendor

[big-girls-forever]

Kinktober 9: CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE

Massively Milky 🥛 / Euphoria 💖 (Using the Kinktober by wonderful @fatguarddog)

Length: 2673 words

Tags: lactation, lesbians, belly expansion, bloating, weight gain, rapid weight gain, hot ladies in pencil skirts, inexplicable levels of lactation, some mild intox

Hannah was just finishing up the mopping in the first public bathroom when she heard a loud yelp of pain from the other one. Hannah thought this was a bit unusual. She’d been a janitor for this building for a good long while, before the new company even moved in. Working the night shift and cleaning up was honestly a lot more relaxing than it was with the previous corporation that used the place as an office. The new folks - VitaTech - had cordoned off a few areas as “laboratory sections” which she didn’t have access to and didn’t have to clean, which meant less work for her for better pay. Occasionally, someone would stay after hours to finish up some paperwork, but hearing a sudden and pained yell from a bathroom was certainly new. She moved her cart with a little more haste than normal.

When she walked in, she saw a woman standing at the far end of the line of sinks. She was a petite, short girl in classic office lady attire: a pencil skirt and a white button-up. The button-up had been messed with slightly. Her collar was off and a few of the top buttons had been undone. She turned to look at Hannah while speaking on the phone.

“Ugh, listen,” she said, “I’ll- you don’t have to come back in. I’ll figure it out. Get an Uber or something. It’s my fault really. Yeah. See you tomorrow. Yeah, I’m putting it in the report. Bye.” 

The office lady sighed. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning to Hannah, “I’ll be out of your way.”

Her face looked red and flushed, and she was sweating. Hannah gave her a smile of concern.

“You sure? You sounded like you were hurt there, and… you don’t look like you’re doing so hot, if I’m being honest. You can stay as long as you need, I’ve got the whole night to clean up.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you,” said the woman. She started to fix her collar in the mirror. “Oh, yeah, I guess I am kinda sweating a lot.” 

Hannah leaned on her cart.

“If I can ask… what’s the matter?”

“You know what they do here… it’s embarrassing, and it’s painful.”

“Ah, geez,” said Hannah. She knew that VitaTech were some sort of biotech company, but wasn’t exactly sure how that related to this poor girl’s issue. Maybe she had to do some heavy lifting in the lab? It was hard to say. She didn’t look like a person who had done much physical labor. Still, Hannah wasn’t really a woman to leave a girl in need.

“Hey,” she said, “If you need a lift to the pharmacy or whatever, I can totally give it.”

“It’s not really a pharmacy problem,” she said. She winced slightly as she moved.

“Hospital?”

“I don’t want the bill,” she said, “I just… sometimes working for this company is sort of ridiculous, okay? I don’t want to involve you if you aren’t down with it, it’s really like… weird to talk about.”

Hannah grinned lightly.

“What’s your name?”

“Cassie.”

“Cassie, I’ve spent the last three years cleaning up the vomit of middle-aged businessmen who liked to day drink. Seriously, you’d think you were watching Mad Men with how much liquor the guys in here were putting away before VitaTech came in. Whatever it is, I promise I won’t be fazed by it.” 

This made the woman laugh a little.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Fine,” she said, “If you’re really so curious, the problem is… I’m an accountant, but I’m also a tester for VitaTech. Whenever they’re workshopping a new product, it usually goes through someone like me first.”

“So, you like, have a condition or something?” Asked Hannah, “I mean, I know they make some kind of drugs here, I’ve seen the warning signs on the labs.”

“No, no,” she said, “The drugs they make are mostly recreational. At least I think.”

Hannah squinted at the sweating, ruddy-faced woman in front of her.

“Like MDMA?”

“No, let me get to it. They were… how do I put this. They’re testing a drug that’s supposed to induce lactation, and I quote ‘above and beyond the normal capacity for a human.’ Which is, the, uh, problem. Because they’ve yet to figure out the quirk where a user needs some degree of suction to get the milk out.”

“What?” 

“And today I was super busy trying to handle the accounts because apparently we had an incident over at one of the subsidiaries - a happy accident really, it seems like we actually made a customer for life but still some stuff had to be handled involving minor costs and I had to work with some people on that. You know how it is. Anyways my point being that I was so busy that I totally forgot to go to the milking machine today.”

“What?” Repeated Hannah, still trying to process the first parts of what she had said. There was a very long and awkward silence.

“Yeah, I know, it’s weird,” said Hannah, “And kinda painful. Because they’re so tender.” 

“You just said that you have so much milk in your breasts that it hurts because you’re an under the table-”

“I’m salaried.”

“A salaried test subject for lactation drugs. For recreational purposes.” 

“Yep.”

There was a long, long silence as Hannah stared at Cassie, and Cassie stared at her, and as they stared longer and longer there was silently an acknowledgement of mutual attraction that made the scenario only more awkward. She was a pretty brunette, she was well-dressed, and she was talkative in a way that made Hannah want to smile. Now, she had informed her that it was in fact medically necessary for her nipples to be suckled because her breasts were so sore from being so full of milk. Though she had not known, Hannah suddenly felt as though her whole romantic life, from the crush she had on her art teacher in grade school to her disastrous attempts at wooing college girls to now, had been preparing her for the occasion when a cute femme absolutely needed, beyond a shadow of a doubt, to have her nipples sucked. The only remaining question was whether Cassie was thinking along the same lines, and how to approach it.

“So,” said Cassie first, “I guess I’m gonna be calling that Uber…”

“Uh,” said Hannah, “Well, I don’t have the keys for the labs, but, maybe we could figure something out to get you out of here without you being in pain.”

Cassie seemed to look down at Hannah’s nametag.

“Hannah - you’re Hannah, right?”

“Right.”

“I know what you’re thinking. They’re still trying to test if this stuff is just regular milk still. And also I have no idea how much is in there right now.”

The silence continued for a while, then Cassie sighed.

“But, if you insist, then…”

Cassie leaned up against the wall and slowly, and began to unbutton her shirt, revealing what looked like a slightly modified maternity bra. Hannah stepped forward slowly as she reached for the hooks on the bra.

“Oh, come on, I’m a woman, not a raccoon,” she said, “I’m not going to run away if you make a sudden move.” 

Hannah laughed and walked the rest of the way to her, and helped her unhook her bra. Sure enough, her breasts were small, but as she moved they looked almost stiff with how full and engorged they were. Her areolae were wide and brown as if she were pregnant, and they were spotted with little white dots of milk. Cassie then sat herself down on the floor with another slight yelp. Hannah followed her.

“Do you have any idea how dirty these floors get?” Asked Hannah.

 “No,” she said, “But I trust your work from last night. Now, get to work. And remember, no teeth.”

Hannah smiled and gently put her head to the girl’s chest, and then took her lips to a tit. At even a slight suction, milk began to spurt into her mouth, like a soda can that you shook before opening it. Hannah grunted in surprise and swallowed but didn’t let up; she was sure that at this rate she’d be dry in no time. Cassie sucked in some air, a noise somewhere between pain and arousal, and took one of her hands to Hannah’s head and brushed her fingers through her hair, then pushed her harder into her breast. 

“Keep sucking,” she said, “Harder.”

Hannah of course obliged and kept to her work. Cassie’s milk was surprisingly sweet and rich. She had known that it would be different from the sort that you got at the store, of course, but even with that this was extremely abnormal. So she kept on suckling, and suckling and suckling on her nipple. Cassie was mostly silent except for an occasional muffled moan or deep breath in, though she kept her hand firmly on Hannah’s head so that she couldn’t stop drinking. 

Not that she would want to stop. As she drank, she felt increasingly warm and bloated and yet there was no sign of Cassie’s milk stopping. In fact, she could feel herself getting a heavier belly with each passing moment from the sheer mass of milk that she was swallowing, which felt plainly impossible. Faintly, she became aware of the sound of the zipper on her uniform slowly pushing itself downward from the growing size of her own gut. Hannah felt like she should have been a little distressed by that, but she felt so warm and happy from all the milk that it was a little hard for her to feel anything other than nice. The feeling was almost like being drunk, if only a little milder. 

Eventually, slowly, she felt the milk coming from Cassie’s tit slow down and then practically stop. When she pulled away and looked down, she was astonished to see how bloated her belly was. Her uniform had pulled down to the point where she could see the white tee-shirt that she was wearing underneath, and her gut was so full that it looked like she was six months pregnant. Cassie seemed entirely undisturbed by this. She reached up and grabbed her handbag from the place where she left it on the sinks, and then pulled out her phone. 

“Might as well get some work done,” she said, “Are you feeling alright?”

“I feel great,” Hannah said woozily, “Oh wow. This, uh milk. Kinda making me like… a mix of horny and… happy? Like drunk happy. Couple of beers happy.”

“Ooh, that’s new,” said Cassie, “Your belly doesn’t hurt or anything?”

Hannah shook her head.

“Feels great!”

“Okay, I’m putting down elasticity and some mild intoxicatory effects in the notes… there. Done.” 

She put her phone back away, and then looked at Hannah again.

“Do you think you’re done? I’ve got two tits, Hannah.”

“Oh, yeah!” Said Hannah eagerly, “Your milk is also really tast-”

Her compliments were cut off by Cassie pushing Hannah’s head into her other tit. Almost automatically her lips latched onto her nipple and began to suck. She felt increasingly adoring of Cassie and her tits that were giving her so much to drink. Her head felt like it was floating and she felt a shock through her body every time Cassie moaned again. Increasingly, the moans went away from pain and towards a pure and animal arousal. 

“Good girl,” said Cassie, “Good, good, keep at it.” 

Now whatever effect the milk was having on her was truly hitting her. Her urge to giggle was only overwhelmed by her ever-growing love of sucking on tits, and of Cassie. She felt like she was floating even as she felt that her gut was getting heavier and heavier, and getting perilously close to the ground. The zipper on her jumpsuit was almost certainly reaching the bottom now, and she could feel the cool air on her belly as her shirt rode up over her bloated belly. And then, just as with the first one, she ran out of milk to drink. This time, Cassie had to gently dislodge her from her breast. Hannah flopped backwards and rested on the back wall, giggling and sighing.

“Hahaha,” she said, “No more milk! Job done!”

“Thank you very much,” said Cassie, “Are you… alright?” 

“Oh I’m fine,” she said, slurring her words, “Super. Oh my God. Do you see my belly?”

“Yeeeep,” said Cassie, “They did say one of the side-effects could be pressurized lactation. Looks like you got the brunt of it.” 

Hannah tried to touch her tender, full belly and groaned. It sloshed slightly with milk as she moved it. 

“Aw, man, this is so much,” she said, “I guess it’s good that I’m bulking. Oh well, time to finish my… rounds and stuff.” 

She tried to stand and almost immediately fell off balance, barely able to keep herself from falling over. Cassie caught her and helped her up, smiling gently.

“Woah, there,” she said, “Looks like you can’t really balance yourself. I’m gonna- how about this. I’m sure our bosses will understand that what you did tonight was really nice.”

“Nice…?”

“Yeah,” said Cassie, “You’re basically a superhero for this. You don’t need to worry about mopping the rest of the floor.”

Cassie began to fix her own clothes, putting herself back together.

“I’m good to drive now. You clearly aren’t in any state to do so,” she said, “How about we go back to my place… sober you up, lack of a better term, and we’ll explain ourselves tomorrow?”

That sounded just wonderful to Hannah. She nodded vigorously, and followed Cassie out of the office on tottering legs.

***

Hannah woke up with a headache and a strange feeling of softness. She groaned and fumbled around on an unfamiliar bed, trying to remember what had happened the previous night. She had definitely met a very nice woman named Cassie. That woman had… had some drinks with her after work? That part wasn’t clear. She remembered feeling kind of drunk, but not drinking anything with alcohol in it. Then they went over to Cassie’s place. She definitely saw Cassie’s tits at some point, she was definitely sure of that, and they were very pretty. As she opened her eyes to the faint light, she saw Cassie next to her, already up, wearing sweatpants and a sports bra.

“What happened last night?” Muttered Hannah.

“Do you remember the milk?”

Hannah was suddenly hit with the rest of the memories of what had happened, though there was still a large blank for what happened after she left work. She had gotten inexplicably drunk and ridiculously full on another woman’s milk, and then gone home with her, and then.

“Oh fuck,” she said, “Did we have sex?”

“No,” said Cassie, “Well, unless you consider vigorous nursing and you continually pawing at me throughout the night for more milk to be sex. Also, you’re fat now.”

“What?”

Hannah suddenly sat up in bed and nearly screamed. Just as inexplicable as Cassie’s tits was her own overnight transformation. Her thighs were thicker, and so were her arms, now heavy with plush fat. Her breasts had likewise gotten a big leg up, now sagging onto the most changed part of her body. Gone were the abs that had taken so much hard work. Now, she had a large, soft apron of fat that spilled over her waist. After taking it in for a moment, she laid back and groaned.

“That’s going to take forever to work off at that gym,” Hannah said. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Cassie, “I’ll take you to the researchers, they’ll get you back in shape in no time.” 

Cassie paused and looked at her, and then slowly began to take off her bra.

“But before we go… I think I’m full again. Mind if you help?” 

Hannah rolled her eyes, and then gladly aided a woman in need once more.

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Shop Talk ||

This one's for @theradioactivespidergwen as she's been feeling shitty and writes the best, hottest Murderdock and reader series which this little piece is inspired by. Hope you enjoy 💝💋

Tags/warnings: I should say Murderdock is from Earth 65 but I've set this in the Netflix universe. Cock warming, semi-public sex/slight voyuerism, tiny little bit of daddy kink.bif you enjoyed please reblog so that others can too!

"The Russians are getting twitchy, they don't seem happy with the property offer."

Matt pours both himself and James Wesley a generous measure of whiskey into the thick crystal glasses on the low table before throwing himself back and lounging on the plush sofa cushions.

"Ugh." He rolls his eyes, taking a long sip of the warming alcohol, savouring the taste before letting it roll down his throat. "I don't see why. This was all agreed, prime fucking property in exchange for weapons, pretty simple offer. Pretty good one if you ask me."

"I get the feeling Alexey will come back asking for more than he deserves." Wesley adds.

"Oh it's almost guaranteed…" Matt pauses as you walk into the room, the hem of your silky nightdress barely covering your ass and the tops of your thighs. "Hi honey, what're you doing up so late, hm?"

"Can't sleep." You quietly reply, coming to sit on the couch beside him with your feet tucked up under you.

"Too hot? Too cold?"

You sigh. "No, the temperature's fine."

He tilts the glass held between his thumb and middle finger back and forth. "Maybe you just need a little nightcap sweetie."

You shake your head, leaning against his side, your fingers playing with his tie, pulling it up slow and letting it slip through your fingers.

"No Matty, I don't need a drink, I need you."

"We'll be finished soon darling, and then I'll come to bed."

"Please?" You add a little flavour of bratty whine into your begging because you know he can't resist it.

"I can go, sir…" Wesley makes a move to stand up but Matt raises his hand to halt him.

"No, no Wesley, that won't be necessary. Please, stay." He sighs dramatically. "It's my own fault, I've been a terrible boyfriend, too much business and not enough pleasure, how very unlike me! My little angel just gets a little needy sometimes, don't you baby?"

You nod slowly and he kisses your forehead sweetly. "And what kind of man would I be if I didn't make sure my best girl is taken care of?"

"A very bad one." You reply and he chuckles and grins, patting his thigh. "That's right. C'mere baby."

You do as he asks, putting your hands on his shoulders and swinging your leg over him to straddle his lap.

"Now, you see Wesley, this is how the Russians need to be with me," he explains as he starts to unfasten his suit pants, "just some clear communication, that's it, no fucking around," he eases his half hard cock out from his boxers under the cover of your short slip. He nearly always gets hard when he knows you're wearing some pretty lingerie around him and this time is no exception when his fingers run over your beautiful silk-covered breasts and on downwards, to where he discovers to his delight that you're completely bare underneath your nightwear.

"All I want," Matt continues, sucking air through his teeth as he lines himself up with your pussy, "is for them to tell me what they want…" his hands move to grip your hips as he slowly guides you to sink down on his length. "Mm, fuck sweetheart you feel so good… - and if it's an acceptable request-" You moan quietly as he fills you fully, feeling every single vein and ridge of him as you take his cock to the hilt, wrapping your arms around him as you lay against his chest and nuzzle into the crook of his neck. "Yeah, that's it, good girl... I'll be more than happy to give them it."

He shuts his eyes to take a breath for a second as your walls squeeze him while you adjust.

"Alright. Is that better now angel?"

"Mmm."

"And are you going to be good for me and stay nice and still? Because you know if you start teasing me I'm going to have to fuck you over the coffee table and you know how that ended last time?"

You smile softly with acquiescence at him but with mischief in your eyes. "Mm, worth it."

"Mm, expensive." He counters pointedly, albeit with a slight smirk.

He rubs his hand slowly over your back as he turns his attention back to his second in command. "So, do you have any good news for me?'

Wesley clears his throat, following Matt's lead getting back to business.

You manage around ten minutes of boring crimelord admin chat before shifting in Matt's lap, the angle pushing him even deeper within you causing your cunt to clench at his dick and a tiny whimper to sneak out from your lips as Matt groans.

"Princess," He grits out. "What did I ask you earlier? I'm working."

You bite at your bottom lip. "I'm sorry daddy! I was just trying to get comfy, I didn't mean it." His cock twitches at your petted words and his tone drops low to the voice he only uses at night in the Kitchen... and in the bedroom.

"Sweetie, you were doing oh-so well for me before…" He removes his red-tinted glasses and sets them on the arm of the couch.

"I can be good..." you whisper before tugging his earlobe between your teeth. His fingers press into your thighs and you feel the hum he makes in his chest as he responds, I know, through your entire body, and you can't help flutter around him again as he makes you even wetter.

"Wesley," Matt's voice is ever so slightly strained as he secures your legs around him before he stands, sweeping everything off of the low table in front of him onto the floor before he lays you down on it and looms over you, still buried inside your warmth.

"I'll- talk to you in the morning, sir." Wesley finishes as he knocks back the rest of his drink and starts walking towards the penthouse elevator door.

"Yes, thank you," Matt replies, but he's entirely focused on you now, the hand that's not holding you spreading around your jaw and gently pressing his thumb between your lips to suck on. The elevator bell chimes softly as the doors slide open. "Oh, and Wesley?"

"Sir?"

You gasp as Matt draws back slowly and snaps his hips forward sharply, jolting you across the polished surface of the table as he uses one hand to loosen off his tie. "Order another one of these for me, hm?" He says, slapping his palm down on the wood. "Maybe something a bit more… sturdy."

Your devil of a Kingpin finally gives in to his angel, giving you what you want, all night long.

And afterwards? You've never slept better.