#which has probably been done in some lucky fic before

[girlinthemirrorbluenight-library]

My art for the first ever @destielaureversebb. You can check out the fic here by @ravenfuchs who wrote a beautiful story about queer joy and finding community and also saving the bees.

Sharing some details under the cut.

So for the first piece which is what I submitted for claims, I really wanted a Dean who was just so comfortable with himself and happy and queer. In my head that means tons of tattoos and jewelry. The idea is these tattoos started out sort of impulsively with random flash like the little pizza and mom heart, but eventually he started putting more thought into it and got larger pieces like the solar system and the ocean. His jewelry is also all cosmic themed with stars, moons, suns, and the aquarius symbol which is his star sign. The bracelets I also imagine were made by a friend or maybe someone who came into the center where he works.

Confession, I've never actually been to a Pride parade, I know. I have been to different pride events though including queer bingo hosted by a drag queen. But I thought about both tables I've seen at events and looking up different LGBTQ center websites to see what resources they had. I probably didn't need to type an actual list out but as you can probably tell I really went for the details with these pieces so we have a full list of real services and original pamphlets.

From the second piece, we have some fun details with Dean's jewelry where he has this fun little charm bracelet a little inspired by Lucky Charms and earrings that match his frog t-shirt.

So these guys along with the Yoda plush are things Charlie actually owns in the show. The Pez dispensers are at her desk at Roman Enterprises. I showed these to my dad who is a huge Tolkien fan to see if he recognized them and it was a success.

Scooby Doo Clue is a real board game variant of Clue that Dean would 100% own. Drawing this board game with the actual details for all the rooms along with all the accurate game pieces took an insane amount of time but hopefully it was worth it? This is definitely the most detailed digital background I've ever done but it was very fun if time consuming.

Some Charlie house details. The board games are all either common ones or ones I thought she'd enjoy. She does canonically enjoy TTRPGs but most of these are more traditional board games. I actually own a couple of Star Wars games including Star Wars Risk and Star Wars Life, but not Outer Rim or Rebellion. The books are all canon references. Charlie canonically is a fan of the Game of Thrones/Song of Ice and Fire series and of course The Hobbit is very important to her and is what she used to read with her parents before the car accident. The rest of the books are all based on her aliases. She uses a combination of a Stephen King character + a sci-fi/fantasy author. So we have The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K Le Guin, The Halloween Tree, Fahrenheit 451 (which yes I did misspell oops), and The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury, and a couple Stephen King books including Carrie and Fire Starter which is where Charlene comes from. These book titles actually took a really long time because Krita does not have the most robust text tool yet but oh well.

[alwaysurvalentine]

scary movie marathon - st fic

Written for Day 27 of @steddie-spooktober prompt: scary movies - wc: 1.6k - cw: some cussing

enjoy! 💛

Steve’s idea of a great date night? Scary movie marathon. If you pick the right movies, your date will hide their face in your shoulder and you have an excuse to hold onto them for the duration. If you’re lucky, you might even get them in your lap where you can provide some distraction.

At least, this is how things typically worked when Steve went on dates with the girls of Hawkins High. He should’ve expected that, like most things with Eddie, that wouldn’t be the case with the other boy. When he’d first suggested the movie night, Eddie had assumed it was a group thing and started talking to Robin about what movies she was going to bring. Luckily, Robin can read Steve’s mind, and also his rapid signaling behind Eddie, so she made up an excuse on why she was busy that night. Eddie had shrugged and turned to Steve with a smirk that sent butterflies straight to Steve’s stomach. 

~

The night had come faster than Steve expected and he eyed the movies in his front seat warily when he pulled up to Eddie’s trailer. He knew the other boy would probably like anything they watched, a huge fan of any and all horror no matter how bad. But Eddie also had a habit about seeing Steve more than other people. What if he realized something about him that Steve didn’t mean to reveal? What if he thought the movies he chose were dumb? Or too mainstream to be considered bad enough to loop back to good? This was a terrible idea. Steve’s hand rested on his gear shift, ready to put it in reverse and call Eddie with a fake illness cover story when the boy in question stepped out of the trailer and waved. 

Steve had just gotten used to the black jeans and leather jacket Eddie normally wore, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the cropped Black Sabbath shirt displaying the underneath of Eddie’s chest all the way to his navel. The sunset painted the scars adorning his stomach into a soft pink, like a gentle swoop of a paint brush. Steve’s own matching scars never looked so soft, instead red and angry any time he caught a glance of them in the mirror. Eddie’s grin sharpened as he approached Steve’s car, brown eyes alight with something when he cracked open Steve’s door.

“Cat got your tongue there, Stevie?” 

If blinks were audible, Steve knows his would’ve been deafening. “Whatever Eddie, hope you’re ready to be scared.” He didn’t dare to look at Eddie when he grabbed the movies, scared the older boy would know what he was thinking. 

“Ha! Me, scared? I’m a connoisseur of horror, a weaver of terrible tales, it takes a lot to scare the likes of me!” A cartoonish evil laugh erupted from Eddie as he walked forward, sliding his slippers off at the front door. The trailer felt just as welcoming as it had done all the times before, but now there were orange string lights covering the wall behind the TV and it smelled distinctly of popcorn.

In seemed in the time it had taken Steve to go home and change, Eddie had set up a full array of snacks for them. Popcorn in one bowl, M&Ms in another, even a bag of red vines sat to the side. “I, uh, wasn’t sure what you’d want to drink. We have coke and beer.” Eddie cringes at his words, though Steve can’t imagine why, and he’s already heading to the kitchen.

“I’ll just have what you’re having.” The fridge door opens and Steve sets his movies on the table, eyes catching on the starting menu for The Fly. Eddie comes back with two opened beers, passing Steve’s over by the neck before taking a quick swig of his own. 

“Okay, so we’re starting with one of the best horror movies ever.” 

~

“What the fuck?! Eddie, what the fuck?” Steve can’t look at the screen anymore, the transformation from man to fly sending his stomach into a riot. He’s tucked his face behind his hands and leaned towards Eddie like that’ll save him from the screen. Which is when he notices Eddie’s got an arm around his shoulders and he can feel him laughing against him. How did he not realize Eddie using his own moves against him?

“I know. It’s fucked up isn’t it? And the special effects are so good!” Eddie almost sounds excited, which would be nice if Steve couldn’t hear the sound of Jeff Goldblum’s character losing the last of his humanity. He gags and covers his ears instead, leaning fully into Eddie and turning his head towards the cologne he can smell on Eddie’s neck instead of the screen. 

“It’s disgusting is what it is.” Steve’s breath ghosts over Eddie’s collarbone and he swears he can see the moment Eddie’s heart starts beating faster. Interesting. He’s hopeful so Steve leans closer and feels Eddie’s arm tighten incrementally around him. 

“Steve?” He nods against the metalhead’s neck, newly focused on figuring out just what the older boy smells like under the cigarette smoke that follows him around. “Can I say something crazy?” Eddie’s tense as he talks, arm slipping from Steve’s shoulders so he can reach for the remote. “I mean, maybe it’s not crazy compared to you know, the entire Upside Down and like the last four years of your life. But it’s a big deal to me. Robin said you were fine with her, and clearly you are because she’s like your whole soulmate. Platonic, I know.” 

All of the air is stuck in Steve’s lungs, making his chest tight and he’s just waiting for the pit in his stomach to swallow him whole. He’s opened his mouth to speak a couple of times but nothing is coming out – Eddie’s drowning in a sea of insecurities and he’s doing nothing to help. 

“Okay. I’m just going to spit it out. I’m gay and I have the biggest crush on you.” 

I have the biggest crush on you.

Steve can breathe again. His cheeks are hot and he knows if he looked in a mirror they’d be bright pink. 

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s quiet enough in the trailer that Steve can hear when Eddie chokes on his inhale. 

“..what?” Eddie’s shoulders aren’t tense anymore, and he tilts his head at Steve with furrowed brows. He almost looks like a puppy. 

“Sorry, yeah, totally cool with the gay thing. Even more on board with the crush thing, so can I kiss you?” 

Eddie’s still just looking at Steve with wide, brown eyes. 

Alright, that’s fine, Steve can close the distance. Steve leans forward slowly and brushes the curls away from Eddie’s face, watches his eyes go wide with wonder before leaning in. Their noses bump when their lips first meet but then Eddie tilts his head and Steve’s world with it. Eddie’s hands come up to cup Steve’s jaw, cold rings sending sparks along his face and Steve smiles into the kiss. They part for a moment, matching grins on their faces. After a beat, Eddie leans in again and Steve shifts closer on the couch. 

As soon as he starts shifting, Eddie’s hands start tugging him closer until Steve’s straddling the older boy’s black jean clad lap. Steve boxes him in easily, resting slightly on Eddie’s lap to change the angle again. Eddie nips at his lip, gaining full access to his mouth when Steve gasps at the sensation. The sounds of the movie have completely faded now, Steve more focused on the soft smacking of their lips when they disconnect and meet again. 

The need for air causes them to part, but Eddie doesn’t go far, tucking his face into Steve’s neck. If it wasn’t for how warm Steve was already feeling, he might’ve been able to feel the warmth from the blush on Eddie’s face. Instead he feels Eddie’s lips against his skin as the metalhead murmurs. “Holy shit. Holy shit. Am I dreaming right now?”

“Not a dream, baby. If it wasn’t obvious, I have a huge crush on you too.”

Eddie leans more into Steve’s neck, placing a kiss at his pulse point. A couple more kisses are placed on Steve’s neck and he feels himself melt into Eddie’s lap. He feels Eddie’s hands clench slightly at the movement and then they slip under his shirt, fingertips pressing gently at Steve’s lower back and hips. A gasp escapes him when Eddie nibbles at his neck, teeth pulling at the skin in a way that Steve knows will leave a mark. 

For a moment he imagines the older boy leaving different marks on him and lending him his signature leather jacket for everyone knows who Steve belongs to. But Steve’s getting ahead of himself, this is only their first kiss. There’s no guarantee that Eddie wants this to be a serious thing. 

“Sweetheart?” When Steve glances down, Eddie’s pupils are still blown slightly even though his eyebrows are scrunched in confusion. “Did you hear me?” He must see his answer in Steve’s eyes because the confusion leaves and Steve’s looking at the softest expression he thinks he’s ever seen. 

“I asked if you wanted to be my boyfriend?” There’s an edge to Eddie’s voice and his hands tighten for a moment before loosening again. As though he’s worried about Steve’s answer, like Steve’s not already on the precipice of falling in love with he boy in front of him.

“Only if you let me take you on an official date.” All of the tension leaves Eddie and he grins, leaning up towards Steve again.

“I think I can agree with that.” 

And what else is Steve supposed to do but lean in for another kiss?

[colettebronte]

(Not Exactly) A Fairytale in New York

Taglist Form

Ao3 Link

Bridgerton Masterlist

Pairing: Modern!Anthony Bridgerton x Fem Reader

Summary: While on what is meant to be a brief layover in NYC at Christmas time there is an airport meet ugly, a snowstorm and some holiday fun to be had both around the city and in the bedroom

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: 18+ specifically for explicit anal sex. Minors DNI. I will put this up on Ao3 so please do not repost my work elsewhere

Author’s Note: my deepest apologies to The Pogues and Kirsty MacColl for the alteration of their song title to fit this fic. This was a fun one to write and I hope you enjoy it! Thank you to @fayes-fics for betaing 🫶❤️

You thank the barista as he hands you your iced coffee. Taking a fortifying sip, you turn and start to walk to your boarding gate. 

You stop walking to adjust the top of your cup. You’ve just pulled it off when someone plows into you, upending the entire contents onto your face, jacket and the floor. The person, a man, grunts and then tosses off a curt “Sorry,” before walking off.

Spluttering, you turn and call out to his quickly retreating back, “Hey pal! I hope all your coffee creamers today are sour and you miss your flight!” The absolute asshole with his perfectly sexy British accent and a no-doubt stupidly expensive suit just continues his brisk walking and tosses off a wave.

Wiping your face and wringing your hands, you throw out your empty cup and debate the merits of changing before boarding your flight home. You check your phone and see you don’t have the time so with a huff and smelling like a caramel macchiato, you make your way across the airport. It’s only as you move that you realize some of it must have splashed through your boots and onto your socks, making for a soggy trudge to the gate. Gross. Welcome to New York. Thankfully, it’s just a short, hour and a half plane ride and then you’ll be home for Christmas.  

Unfortunately, Snow Storm Agatha has other plans.

**********

Defeated, you sink into a hard plastic chair. Having first joined the line at the ticket counter, where you were given airport food vouchers and no word of when flights could be rebooked, you then collected your deplaned luggage from the baggage carousel. After that, you spent the better part of an hour calling any hotel in your price range to see if they had any rooms left to no avail. So all that was left was the least appealing option; spending the night and possibly longer at LaGuardia Airport. Great.

Someone takes a seat beside you, their expensive luggage bumping against yours. You turn and see it’s the same jerk who dumped your coffee all over you. You give him the stink-eye but he’s too busy absorbed in a conversation on his phone to even notice you. You take the moment to study him. It figures that he’d have an adorable furrow between his brows and a perfect jawline to go with his thick, tuggable hair and stupidly sexy accent.

You can tell from his side of the conversation that, of course, Mr. Tall, Dark and British is able to secure a place to stay. Lucky him. You hope his hotel room has bed bugs.

He ends his call and sniffs the air, no doubt catching a whiff of the iced caramel drying on your coat. He turns and notices you for the first time, his eyes going comically wide. He takes in your overall appearance and after a moment, a look of guilt comes over his handsome face. It would probably feel satisfying if your hair wasn’t sticky.

He looks down at his black leather-gloved hands and fidgets for a moment. Heaving a deep breath he starts, “You’re the one I . . .”

“Dumped eight dollars worth of Queens’ finest bean juice all over. Yes,” you finish for him.

He winces and then goes on an impressive ramble. “I am truly sorry. I was on the phone with one of my sisters and in a rush to make it to my plane, which is no excuse I realize. I ought to have done the gentlemanly thing and, at the very least, stopped to help you clean up. Of course, had I been paying attention, it should never have happened in the first place,” he pauses to take a deep breath before adding, “How can I make it up to you?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Unless you can magically conjure me a shower or, better yet, a room so I don’t have to spend the night sleeping on cheap plastic and eating bad airport food, not much.”

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Well, I have just procured a suite for the night. You’re welcome to the second bedroom.”

You gape at him. “Look, Mr . . .”

“Bridgerton,” he interjects, before adding, “Anthony.” he flashes you a charming smile that, in any other circumstance, might just sway you.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you sigh, “While I appreciate the offer, I am not going with you, a complete stranger, to stay in your hotel suite, no matter how swanky it may be. For all I know, you’re a secret serial killer or something.” You cross your arms, purposely elbowing him in the side.

He raises his arms in the air, placating, “Miss, I understand you completely. I know my offer is unconventional but I truly do wish to make things up to you. Is there nothing I can do to convince you I’m safe to be around, full coffee cups aside?”

You fight a smile. Dammit this man is too smooth. With a sigh, you tell him, “I can’t think of anything, short of stellar testimony about your general character from an unimpeachable source.”

You start to stand but he touches the sleeve of your coat. Looking thoughtful, he stands and pulls out his phone. Holding it up so you can see the screen, he punches in a number and after a moment, it rings and then a yawning, elegant, older woman with the kindest blue eyes you’ve ever seen answers.

“Anthony dearest, what are you doing calling at this hour, and from the plane no less?”

He has the good grace to look abashed. “My apologies, Mother. I’m still in the airport. A rather nasty snowstorm has grounded all the flights through tomorrow.”

The woman, his mother, looks concerned. “Do you need a room for the night? I can wake Marcus up and see if he has a room at one of his New York hotels available for you.”

Anthony shakes his head. “That’s not necessary, Dorset was able to get me a room at one of his,” he pauses to glance at you. “The truth is, Mother, I need you to provide a character reference for me, to convince someone I’m not an axe-wielding maniac and that it’s perfectly safe to stay in the spare bedroom of my suite.”

His mother raises her eyebrows. “Anthony, what did you do?”

He swallows thickly and looks at you. You laugh and lean into the phone to offer her a wave. She takes in your appearance and then narrows her eyes. 

Her voice is deadly calm as she again asks, “Anthony Edmund Bridgerton. What. Did. You. Do?”

You feel a sympathetic pang at the use of his full name as he hems and haws his way through an explanation. When he finishes she heaves a sigh and then addresses you.

“My Dear, my name is Violet Bridgerton and I assure you, while my eldest son may be a tiny bit of an idiot, he is mostly a gentleman. I promise you are perfectly safe in his presence and I have no doubt,” she pauses to cut her eyes to her son, “That he will not only pay for your dry cleaning, he will buy you a very nice dinner tonight and then also see you safely back to the airport when it’s time for your flight to depart. Isn’t that right, my dear son?”

Anthony nods but at his mother’s sharp look, he clears his throat and says, “That’s right Mother, I will.”

“Excellent.” She looks back at you. “Despite the circumstances, it is lovely to meet you, Miss?”

“Y/n,” you supply. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Violet smiles warmly and then looks between you and her son, a gleam in her eye.“I wish you both a good evening.”

“Goodnight Mother,” Anthony says and then he ends the call. He puts the phone away and then looks at you and asks, “Well?”

Without hesitating, you pick up your purse and sling your carry-on bag over your shoulder. You thrust your luggage at him, the little wheels squeaking as they bump into his shiny black shoes. “Lead the way, Your Highness, I have a very expensive dinner to get to,” you say brightly.

Grabbing the handle of your luggage in addition to his own, he mutters, “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

You tug your mittens on and adjust your carry-on, asking him, “Does the hotel offer lobster and filet mignon?”

**********

You arrive at Hotel Dorset and you bound out of the town car, leaving Anthony to manage the luggage. A tall man stands just inside the entrance, a curious look on his friendly face.

“Hello Miss,” he greets you warmly.

Before you can respond, Anthony walks up and takes the man’s hand, shaking it vigorously.

“Tom, I can’t thank you enough for putting us up for the night.”

The man, Tom, nods, although he’s still looking at you. “It’s my pleasure. The city doesn’t come to a complete standstill all that often due to snow, but I’m happy to be able to help.” His eyes cut back to Anthony. “You didn’t mention you were bringing a guest with you.”

You step closer, elbowing Anthony in the ribs as you say, “Oh, he owes me. He decided it would be fun to spill iced coffee all over me this afternoon, so as penance, he’s putting me up for the night and buying me a really expensive dinner.”

Anthony sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It was an accident.”

Tom laughs, offering you his arm. You take it as he leads you both to the elevators, a porter following with your luggage. Once inside, your eyes widen as Tom inserts a key and the button for the penthouse lights up. Tom smiles and says, “Our restaurant has a Michelin star. The chef’s speciality is steak with lobster and caviar”

You nod, fighting a laugh as you glance at Anthony. “That sounds delicious,” you say seriously. “Do you happen to have a two-hundred-year-old wine that pairs well with that?”

Tom looks at Anthony and then clearing his throat, nods and begins to expound on the restaurant’s highly curated vintage wine list, amusement shining in his eyes as he does so.

Anthony leans his head against the gold metal wall of the elevator and groans.

**********

The penthouse is massive and after giving your coat to the porter to be dry-cleaned, with the assurance it would be ready for you in the morning, you avail yourself of the shower in your personal, full-sized bathroom.

You assume Anthony has gone to do the same in his.

After a long, heavenly jaunt under the double rainfall showerheads, you tuck yourself into one of the hotel’s fluffy robes and go back into your room to change. You’re sorting through your luggage when there’s a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you call out and then Anthony enters, also dressed in a robe, his hair damp. It takes all your willpower to focus on his eyes and not on the single curl on his forehead.

Anthony smiles and says, “I made a dinner reservation for the eight pm sitting. If you’d prefer a different time, I can change it,” he tells you.

Sighing, you say, “That’s fine. But I have a problem.”

Anthony comes over to you, concern written on his handsome face. “What can I do?”

You sink down on the bed. “I flew in from an educator’s conference. I don’t exactly have something to wear for dinner at a Michelin star restaurant.”

Anthony stands. “That’s no problem at all. Give me twenty minutes and I’ll have some options brought up for you.”

You blink up at him. Stunned, you stutter out, “You can just . . . have dresses . . . brought up here . . . for me to try on?”

He nods and you can only stare at him and think about how you lead very different lives.

**********

Two hours later, you both emerge from the elevator, Anthony looking sharp in a bow tie and black dinner jacket and you in a flowy red dress, that you are positive costs more than three of your paychecks combined.

Tom personally escorts you to the restaurant and sees you to your table. Once seated, he has a bottle of wine brought over with his compliments and then leaves you and Anthony to your meal. After perusing the menu, you decide to take pity on Anthony’s wallet, despite your suspicion he can easily afford it and forgo the steak, lobster and even the caviar in favor of a burger and pomme frites instead. Surprisingly, Anthony orders the same. It turns out, the wine Tom chose pairs perfectly with your meal.

Over Michelin star burgers and fancy Belgian fries, you and Anthony get to know each other. He is as charming as you originally thought, but as you chat, you discover how utterly devoted he is to his family and the business they run together, leaving him little time for a personal life.

You’re sharing a truly excellent piece of cheesecake when a band starts to play jazzy versions of Christmas songs. You watch enviously as couples take to the floor, holding each other close. After watching for a while, Anthony stands and offers you his hand.

Exhaling a deep breath, you take it and then you’re making your way to join the other couples. You pick up the strains of “Last Christmas” as Anthony suddenly spins you out and pulls you back into his arms, his face mere inches from yours. You stare deep into his dark eyes and whisper, “Careful, Mr. Bridgerton, a girl could get ideas.”

He dips you and when he pulls you back up, his voice is rough as he asks, “You promise?”

Heat pools in your belly. But then you give yourself a mental shake. You’ve only just met this man. Flirting with strangers and then jumping into bed with them, no matter how fancy that bed may be, is not something you do.

Besides, surely the weather will clear up tomorrow and then you’ll part ways and never see each other again, so what would be the point?

**********

It’s nearly midnight by the time you return to the penthouse. Fingers entwined, you’re reluctant to part for the evening. You’re about to suggest a nightcap when both your phones ping. Anthony excuses himself as you check yours. First, you see a warning from the National Weather Service that the storm is projected to continue through the following evening. The next notification is from your airline saying all flights will remain cancelled until further notice. With a sigh, you text your sister to let her know the latest update. She immediately texts back, assuring you it’s fine and to let her know when you have a flight rebooked.

You change and are about to slip into bed when Anthony knocks on your door. You open it to find him looking unfairly handsome in red flannel pajamas, the shirt unbuttoned, exposing a thatch of hair on his chest that has you itching to run your finger through it. He stares at you, appreciation clear in his eyes.

Tearing your gaze away from his exposed skin, you ask him, “Did you need something?”

Anthony blinks and then nods, his eyes looking into yours. “It seems we’ll be here for at least another day. Tom said we’re welcome to stay as long as we need.”

You smile. “That’s very kind of him.”

Anthony smiles back and says, “Since we’re here for another day, I was wondering if you wanted to play tourist with me? I was meant to just be here while my plane refueled and haven’t had a chance to see the sights.”

You reach out and take one of his hands in yours. “I’d like that,” you tell him softly.  “I was only meant to have a forty-minute layover.”

Anthony squeezes your fingers. Just as quietly, he says, “It’s settled then. We'll have breakfast and then set out to see just what New York City has to offer.”

“It’s a date, Mr. Bridgerton,” you reply.

********

You spend the morning zig-zagging across the city, taking in the sights and sounds of New York City at Christmas time with the falling snow just adding to the ambiance of the season.

For lunch, you stop at the Winter Village in Bryant Park. You each choose your meals from different food trucks and then sit together in a heated bubble, watching shoppers scurry around the park doing their last-minute shopping at the vendor stalls. If Anthony sits a little closer at your side than necessary, you don’t comment on it.

After lunch, you walk to Rockefeller Plaza and cajole Anthony into ice skating with you.

“It’s so ridiculously touristy,” he protests as you lead him by the hand to the skate rental.

Laughing, you ask, “I’m sorry, Mr. Bridgerton, but who suggested we play tourist?”

“Me,” he mumbles and then adds, “I don’t know how to ice skate.”

You squeeze his hand in what you hope is a reassuring manner. Brightly, you say, “Don’t worry, it’s just like roller-skating only with a blade stuck to your feet instead of wheels.”

Anthony hands his credit card to the attendant and as you take your ice skates from them, Anthony asks you, “Is now a bad time to mention that I don’t know how to roller skate either?”

You stare at him for a moment and then wave his words off. “You’ll be fine. Probably.”

Anthony doesn’t look convinced, so you point to a child holding onto a blue plastic Skate Helper as they wind around the rink. “Maybe we can find one for you in adult size.”

Sadly, you cannot, so Anthony settles for clinging to the wall like a limpet while you fly around the rink, moving from one foot to the other with ease, your childhood skate lessons coming back to you, despite it being several years since you’ve been on the ice.

After a while, you take pity and go over to Anthony, coming to an elegant T-stop in front of him. Silently, you hold your hands out and after reluctantly releasing the wall, he wobbles towards you, grasping onto your shoulders as soon as he’s within reach. You adjust your body to counterbalance his shakiness and taking his hands with a reassuring smile, you slowly pull him around the rink.

You can see the exact moment he gets over his nerves and trusts you to keep you both upright as he looks around and takes in the sights around you. By the time you finish skating, dusk is starting to fall. You return your skates and Anthony buys you both hot cocoa. Tucked into his side, you walk up to the top of the plaza to get an unobstructed view of the famous Christmas tree. 

After staring at the tree for a while, you look up at Anthony to see him watching you and not the glowing sight before you. The obvious desire in his eyes brings a pleasant warmth to your core. Without thinking, you tug him down and draw him into an embrace. You stare into each other’s eyes for a moment and then his mouth is on yours, his tongue gently moving against the seam of your lips, as if asking permission to enter. With a sigh, you let him and then he is pressing you against the gray marble of the wall as he whines into your mouth.

Someone walks by and calls out, “Hey! Get a room!”

You pull apart, both of you breathing heavily. Anthony tucks a stray lock of your hair under your hat, a tender look in his eyes. You take one of his gloved hands in your mitten-covered one. Deciding not to mince words you tell him, “Take me back to our room so we can fuck.” 

His eyes darken, and he nods, tugging you in the direction of the hotel.

**********

The ride up in the elevator feels interminable but as it opens with a ding, Anthony pulls out the penthouse key and after a brief fumble, manages to get the door unlocked. As soon as he enters, you lean into him and undo the buttons of his coat, tugging his beanie off his head as he pulls off his gloves with his teeth. As he reaches out to undo your jacket, you take a moment to admire his snow-dampened hair and impossibly soft white sweater.

Once you’re both freed of your outerwear, you jump up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. Placing his arms around your back, he moans against your lips as he walks to his bedroom. 

With him holding you, you pull your sweater over your head and toss it behind you. Using one hand, Anthony deftly unhooks your bra. He bumps against the bed and then you hop down to paw at his sweater until he takes it off, throwing it over your head to join your discarded clothes on the floor.

Keeping your eyes firmly on him, you bend down to take off your boots, pants, socks and panties. Anthony does the same with his remaining clothes and underwear, his eyes not leaving yours either. After a moment though, he turns away to one of the nightstands and pulls out a condom. Biting back a smile, you raise an eyebrow and Anthony shrugs, saying, “I wasn’t expecting anything but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hopeful after our dance last night.”

You nod and then he rolls the condom on. You then descend on Anthony, pushing him gently back so he lands on the bed. You climb over his legs to straddle him and then he lets out the most beautiful moan as you grind down on his cock.

“Please . . . please ride me,” he stutters from under you. You tug him up into a bruising kiss by the hair and he starts to wrap his arms around your back but you grab his hands, lacing your fingers together, holding them over his head as you begin to slide back and forth on his lap.

You find an angle that feels good, pausing for a moment to enjoy the stretch and feel of him inside you. Anthony groans and then you move together, building a rhythm with ease. You do most of the work, drawing out both your pleasure by turns alternating going fast and then maddeningly slow. By the time you’re close, you’re both slick with sweat, Anthony’s breaths coming in little whining gasps.

“Please, I need... I need,” he begs.

You lean down to kiss his neck, your body feels taut and poised to tip over the edge with pleasure.  You lean in to whisper into his ear, “Shhh, I know. I’m ready for it too. Shall we come together?”

Anthony nods and then you’re thrusting in tandem, both working towards the same goal. White, hot, delicious pleasure overtakes your senses and hands still entwined, you throw your head back and scream. Barely a breath later, Anthony yells out your name and you have to fight to keep yourself balanced on his lap as he bucks against you in ecstasy.

**********

Later, after a shower and room service dinner, your head is resting against Anthony’s chest, tucked under the covers and you’re feeling pleasantly warm and boneless when both your phones ding on the nightstands beside you. You whine and reach out of your blanket cocoon to take your phone as Anthony does the same with his. Blinking, you stare in surprise to see that it’s a message from the airline with information on rebooking your flight for the next day. You glance over to see Anthony glaring down at his phone, no doubt having just received the same message from his airline.

He looks up from his phone to gaze at you, the annoyance instantly disappearing from his handsome face. Sighing, he gestures to his phone and says, “It seems Agatha has been downgraded and flights will resume tomorrow. We can both go home.”

You nod. Just a day earlier, face covered in coffee, going home was all you wanted. And now, well, now it’s different. Anthony tucks in close to you and plucks your phone out of your hand. He pulls you back onto his chest, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. 

Quietly, he asks you, “Will you let me handle the details of your flight home?”

You sigh, “You’ve done so much for me already, I can’t ask that of you.”

Anthony shushes you with a gentle kiss. When he pulls back his eyes are full of tenderness as he says, “I’m offering. Please let me do this. Think of it as a continuation of how gentlemanly my mother promised you I’d be.”

You lift your head to huff out a laugh. “Oh and was that gentlemanly behavior earlier tonight?”

Anthony flashes you a wry smile. “Absolutely. Ladies always come first.”

Shaking your head with a giggle, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth and then lay your head back down, yawning as he reaches out and turns off the lamp.

**********

The air is crisp and clear as you exit the hotel hand in hand with Anthony. Once your luggage is loaded into the town car, he holds the door open for you and then slides in, directing the driver to Hangar Seven. Having only flown into La Guardia a few times, you’re not certain where that is but you trust Anthony to get you where you need to go.

Soon enough, you’re at the airport and your brow furrows as you drive past most of the terminals, including the one you know your airline is at. The car pulls into a small lot and then after tipping your driver, Anthony gets out and then comes around to your side to help you out of the car. Taking you by the hand, he leads you into a building. Before you can ask him about your luggage and how you’re meant to get through security, you’re walking into what you realize is an actual airplane hanger and then you can only stare at the private jet emblazoned with Anthony’s last name on the side.

You freeze in place and Anthony is jolted back by the hand. He tries to gently tug you forward but you remain fixed in place, looking back and forth between the jet and the man who apparently owns it.

Anthony stops trying to walk and tucks into your side.

Taking a deep breath you say, “Two days ago, you told me you were waiting for your plane to refuel, you actually meant your personal plane, not a passenger plane.”

Anthony leans down and says quietly, “Technically, it is a passenger plane. I just happen to be the only one on it.”

Releasing his hand you step back from him. “I knew you had money,” you start, “Which of course I don’t hold against you, but what exactly is your family business, Mr. Bridgerton?”

Anthony glances at the plane for a moment and then looks back to you. “The plain truth is, I’m not strictly Mr. Bridgerton. That title is for my younger brothers,” he winces as he continues, “I’m actually Lord Bridgerton.”

You gape at him and squeak, “Lord Bridgerton?”

Anthony nods and squeezes his hands together, looking nervous. “Please don’t say this changes things between us.”

You take a deep breath and stare at him for a moment. He is Anthony, the man who you thought was initially a jerk but turned out to be something else altogether: a gentleman, a man devoted to his family, the man who went above and beyond to apologize for his bad behavior and the man who after only a little hesitation, was willing to try something new at the skating rink. He’s also the man who gave you one of the best orgasms of your life. Even now, he’s staring at you with such hope in his eyes that it’s easy to come to a decision.

You reach up and tug him into a heated kiss. When you at last break apart, you tell him, “Lord Bridgerton, please take me home.”

**********

You’re up far too early Christmas morning at your sister’s house watching your nephew unwrap yet another Lego set when your phone buzzes. With a smile, you read the text.

AB: I don’t suppose you have any plans for New Year’s Eve

Y/n: Not yet. What did you have in mind Lord Bridgerton?

AB: If someone were to send a plane for you, would you consider ringing in the new year across the pond?

Y/n: If that plane includes a very handsome viscount, I’d consider it.

AB: Noted. I’ll see you in six days

AB: And I’ll bring the iced macchiato this time and you can dump it on me

Y/n: My Lord, you’re a little weird but I’m falling in love with you anyway

AB: . . . .

Y/n: I mean

AB: I’m falling in love with you too. Happy Christmas

Y/n: Merry Christmas. I’ll see you next week

taglist: @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @faye-tale @cosmiclove330 @abridgerton @fiction-is-life @kmc1989 @alexandrainlove @ietss @multi-fandom-lover7667 @turtle-cant-communicate @liliac-dreamer @hottytoddyhistory @laniec03 @queenofmean14 @jtheteenagewitch

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Blurbs: Yogurt

————————————————————————-

Summary: You leave Joe unattended for five minutes, and he thinks that your newly mixed homemade lotion is yogurt…

(Part One to - Part 2)

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Into The Mystic

————————————————————————-

*30 weeks pregnant*

Joe and I were at the beginning of getting ready for date night.

It was a pretty chill day at the house so far, we all slept in, had breakfast, and spent the day chilling on the couch.

Joe even tried to teach the twins how to play Super Smash Bros, but I intervened and shut that down pretty quickly.

Now, Joe and I were upstairs in our bathroom getting ready.

I just ironed Joe’s clothes, which I also picked out, and sent him to the bedroom to change while I used the bathroom.

In all honesty, I wasn't using the bathroom, I was setting up a prank.

After posting a couple of my pranks that I've done on Joe on TikTok as a Christmas present to his fangirls, a couple of the other WAGs have sent me ideas to try on him.

Tianna, Cody Ford’s GF, sent me this idea where the girl leaves an unmarked jar of seemingly yogurt out on the counter with a spoon inside of it, her boyfriend thinks it is yogurt and eats it.

Joe has always been one to steal a bite of my food when I wasn't watching, so I knew he'd take the bait.

After I was finished setting up the prank, I called Joe into the bathroom to see his outfit.

“Watcha think?” - Joe

“You look amazing. It's screaming dilf.” - you

“Yeah?” - Joe smirked

He reached out and grazed his fingertips over my bare bump.

It was a date night tradition for me to put my outfit on last. It would be revealed to Joe as he stood at the door, and I walked down the stairs to him.

So for now, I'd wear my undergarments and a robe, or when I'm pregnant, I'd opt for one of Joe’s t-shirts.

“Wait I need to go put some juice pouches in the fridge for the boys’ dinner later.” - you

My phone was already set up discretely in our heated towel rack, so when I left the room I hit the record button on my Apple Watch.

I actually did go downstairs and put juice pouches in the fridge like I said I would and came back upstairs to hear any reaction from Joe.

Just as I am striding into the bathroom, I hear a gagging sound.

Joe was under the faucet, frantically rinsing his mouth out.

“What happened?!” - you

He leaned up and wiped his mouth off with the towel above the toilet, giving me a stank face as he pointed to the jar of lotion.

“Whatever that is, is fucking disgusting.” - Joe

There was so much sassiness behind his tone that I couldn't help but bust out laughing.

“Probably because it's lotion, Joe.” - you

“Lotion?! I thought it was yogurt. It literally has a spoon in it!” - Joe

“That's because I just mixed it up.” - you

That's a lie, I squeezed it out of a bottle into a jar. 

“This is another prank, isn't it? Where's your phone at?!” - Joe

I pointed to the towel rack and Joe slowly rolled his head toward it.

When he saw it, his shoulders dropped defeatedly, and Joe let out a big sigh.

“I got you back.” - you singsonged

I poked him in the stomach repeatedly, and Joe didn't even move just shifted his eyes from the camera to me as he playfully glared.

“Bruh.” - Joe

Giggling as I hugged Joe against me, he patted my back dismissively. He was annoyed but wouldn't ignore my touch.

“You’re lucky I love you.” - Joe

“I know.” - you laughed

Joe ended up laughing with me before pressing a kiss on my forehead.

“Yay. More footage of me getting pranked my teammates are gonna shove in my face.” - Joe

“It’s okay, Joe, I'm sending their girls ideas to prank them too.” - you giggled

“That's my girl.” - Joe kissed your forehead again

————————————————————————-

Authors note: the last blurb of the night!

Requests for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[shadesofecclescakes]

Are you a big fanfic reader? What have you read lately and what's been your favourite fic so far?

Oh mannnnnnnnn. Why don't you ask me to pick a favourite child while you're at it???

Just kidding. I don't have kids. But I assume having to pick a favourite would be hard if I did.

So, am I a big fanfic reader? YES. And what haven't I read lately? We are lucky enough to have so many talented writers in this fandom that it's possible to subscribe to numerous multi-chapter fics to the point where you're just constantly getting update emails. Which I do. It's great. It gives me something to do at work aside from, y'know, work.

*Me at work being smug about being paid to read porn* (Also I just wanted to look at this gif)

So what is currently on my endless update list? Coming up after the cut!

I am an absolute whore for human AU, so if you like that then you will probably like:

The Cure for a Broken Heart by @rofell

a medical student AU based in the Canadian medical system (I'm a Canadian so I was pretty excited about that). It manages to tackle the continued systemic discrimination of Indigenous people in our medical system (and in general), homophobia and the ensuing trauma from those things all while also being informative, funny, sweet, romantic and hot af. Like. It's so good.

Free by @maaikeatthefullmoon

This is another one with with a heavy topic that also does a great job of making sure to break it up with some excellent fluff, hurt/comfort and humorous moments. And it's handled with the sensitivity and thoughtfulness necessary to write something that takes place in a mental health ward and deals with some intense situations. Definitely make sure to read those author notes before diving in. They lay it out very thoroughly.

The Sincere Way by @tsyvia48

A martial arts AU. Crowley is a karate sensei and Aziraphale is his student. Slow burn that keeps you on the edge. The screams I have scrumt at my screen over this one. Plus you learn a lot about karate (but it never gets boring or over-explainey. Excellently balanced) which is pretty cool. Mostly light (there is some angst. This is the Good Omens fandom. I think we are all sad, wet chihuahuas at heart). Funny and sweet.

Terminus by @emotional-support-demon-crowley

Plus One by @caedmonfaith

Astronaut AU. Aziraphale is an astronaut who meets his mission controller, Crowley, over the comms system when he finds himself in need of assistance.

Super cool concept and really well-done in my opinion. Like, I don't do any space or physics-related work (ok I straight-up failed math 9) but I find it entirely believable. And it's well-written which is the entire point. Cute, funny slow burn with an intriguing mystery happening in the background.

Aziraphale has family money but a shitty family (except for Muriel! Never Muriel!) and his shitty brother Gabriel is getting married to shitty Michael, an Earl's daughter.

Aziraphale's family disproves of his entire life pretty much and he has been lying to them about having a boyfriend. Now they are expecting him to bring said boyfriend to the wedding. His famous footballer friend sets him up with their mechanic, Crowley.

It starts as a slow-burn but becomes a hilarious, smutty romp that just gets more and more insane. The chapter titles alone have made me cackle out loud.

Some older human AUs I'm a huge fan of include Old Vines by @sevdrag. Crowley owns a vineyard and Aziraphale is a wine critic. It is so amazingly written. It makes me think of the author Joanna Harris (Chocolat, The Five Quarters of the Orange) because it's SO beautifully, vividly descriptive that I end up craaaaaving wine. So have a bottle on hand if you're giving this a read.

Also the love story in this. My god. I devoured it. The story and the (many bottles of) wine.

There is also Loosely Ballroom by marginalia_device and mortifyingideal. It's a Strictly Come Dancing (Dancing with the Stars in North America) AU and it is so. Fucking. Good.

But it comes with a disclaimer. It's unfinished and looks likely to stay that way. But honestly? Still worth it. It's nearly finished (I think) so you have most of the story. And it's just SO good. It's been a while since I read it but it was one of the first human AUs I read and what got me hooked on them.

If you're still with me...nice! Just know that was me holding back and that isn't my entire list by a long shot. If you want more recs, feel free to message me and also share your own!

I just finished Slow Show the actor AU by @mia-ugly and yes please.

Some serious angst, pining and hot hot smut.

There is another long-form multi-chapter actor au I loooved but I can't remember the name for the life of me. Just that the show they were on was basically good omens and that they swapped roles with great success (inspired by the whole Michael thinking Neil wanted him to play Crowley when he wanted Aziraphale thing).

Thanks for the ask! That was really fun!

[dealbrekker]

When You Call My Name

Here's my Sylus fic! I figured I'd get it up before everyone is scrambling for Caleb XD Inspired by Sylus's myth and the choir version of Madonna's Like a Prayer (yes from the deadpool wolverine soundtrack, trust me).

Warnings: violence, blood, evol related violence, reader/mc is kidnapped but no violence is shown being done toward her, Sylus isn't as lucky, but he's okay, promise.

Word Count: 2500 Summary: When you're kidnapped by an unknown faction, it's not hard to determine it has something to do with Sylus. But the men who have you seem to know something you don't about Onychinus's leader, and that something could kill him. Too bad for them you remember everything in the process.

Ao3

The last thing you remember is leaving the Association. You’d waved goodbye to Tara and Nero, checked your watch for any final comms from Xavier, to see if his mission had finished up. When there wasn’t anything, you’d started home.

You don’t even know if you’d made it a block.

There is a black void in your mind from that moment to now. Now, where you’re tied to a chair in a nondescript warehouse. Your feet are bare, and your clothes torn considerably. You feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. You can tell a black eye is forming, by the way you can’t see much out of the right. Your bones are very unhappy with the current state of affairs, but you don’t think anything is broken.

You’d stopped calling out to see if anyone would answer. You’d been doing it for what felt like hours. No one has yet come along. You feel like you should start again, as even your hoarse voice is better than the ringing silence of the place.

They’d taken your watch. There is no way to communicate with anyone on the outside. No watch, no phone, and seemingly no kidnappers.

Which is far more unnerving than if someone had greeted you upon waking.

You close your eyes and run through your mind. Who can this person or these people be? You doubt they’re targeting the Association, but Ever could potentially be behind it. But you rather think that Ever would be more communicative with their hostage.

Are you a hostage, if there are no kidnappers?

You shake your head and keep thinking. Zayne doesn’t have any enemies. Rafayel probably does, but you doubt this is the work of some art world stalker.

Which leaves…

“Sylus.” You murmur.

As if on cue, men enter the room. You sit up straighter, trying to see if you can recognize any of them. They’re not wearing masks.

One of them steps forward, but does not touch you. You stare up at him.

“How long have I been here?” you demand.

You’re surprised when he easily answers, “6 hours and twenty minutes.”

“Why am I here?” You try not to let the length of time rattle you. “Who are you?”

“We would like a word with Sylus.” He is still staring at your face, as if searching for something.

“So just call him like all the other dealers do.”

The man smiles softly. “We prefer a more direct action. Take his finest treasure, and a dragon is sure to react.”

You glare up at him. “You’re severely overestimating my status.”

The man’s eyes flick to his watch. “I think, I am not.”

He motions, and more men stream into the room. You can hear them in the catwalks above you. And several settle into other chairs to wait. You clear your throat, desperate for a drink of water.

“Even if Sylus does come, he won’t be alone.” You wriggle your wrists. Your fingers are going cold. “He’s not an amateur. You should know that.”

“No,” your captor agrees, leaning against a pillar and lighting a cigarette. “Not an amateur. But easily goaded. Besides,” a ring of smoke puffs from his lips. “His minions are engaged with some of my men across town in a gambling den.”

You swallow. Luke and Kieren…

You aren’t worried about them. But that means Sylus will most certainly come alone.

The nameless man continues to smoke. You can see the embers dropping. The odor makes you cough.

“Why?” you ask again.

He doesn’t answer you. Another hour has come and gone while the men wander and say very little. You are completely ignored; left to wonder, left to ache.

After a while, you almost feel sorry for the group pacing the floor. If you could manage to get free, you’d try to take them down quickly and efficiently, granting swift deaths if necessary. Sylus, on the other hand, will likely make a mess of the men around you. You’ve been gone too long for him to show any sort of patience, or allow you to help take your own revenge on this lot. It has always confused you, the way he vacillates between murderous wrath if anyone touches you to seemingly reverent faith that you can take care of yourself. There are days you swear he could incinerate someone with a glance, and days he lets you lead and defend yourself against enemies with nothing but a soft chuckle.

Your gut churns when one of your captors eyes you from across the room. You stay still, hoping none of them come closer. You haven’t been trying to work your hands free for a few hours, because despite the glow of pride you begrudgingly feel when Sylus applauds your abilities, you can’t help but feel hollow and scared right now.

You don’t know why these men make you nervous. But they’re different from the usual thugs and sketchy dealers Sylus normally contends with. Petty criminals you can handle; these men, though…

It’s like they know something you don’t about the man ostensibly on his way to save you.

And he has to be. Mephisto, your ever vigilant shadow, would have reported. As far as you know the men haven’t sent any sort of word of your kidnapping. You don’t imagine they think they’ll swindle a ransom out of Sylus. Not these people, who communicate in glances and quick, whispered monosyllables. These men who haven’t asked you a single question. No. You’re simply bait. They have no wish for money or weapons or deals.

They want blood. His blood.

Your fingers clench and you start wriggling your wrists again. I need to get out of here, he can’t come here, he can’t…

The five men who had been seated stand silently, intent on the door. You freeze, straining your ears, willing it to have been nothing, silently screaming for Sylus to go away, you’ll handle this, go away, you’re in danger, you’re in danger, please don’t come.

The group is converging in toward each other, closing in on the main door. Several others wait in the shadows, apparently casing the windows. Silence reigns from the catwalks.

Sylus won’t bother with windows, you think. He’ll come right through the front door like he owns the place.

Don’t, don’t, don’t.

The leader unsheathes a blade you hadn’t noticed before. It gleams inky black, the hilt studded with vicious red gems that look horribly like—

“Aethercores,” you breathe.

Suddenly you feel in your very battered bones that this dagger might just kill Sylus.

The floor starts vibrating and your ears pop. It’s like all the air has been sucked from the room.

“DON’T!” You scream.

Too late.

The door explodes open, and he’s there, larger than life, shirt and hair billowing in the force of his own wake. His eye burns red, as red as the dagger’s hilt. The whips of his power surge, cutting through the warehouse like swords through flesh, impaling a few unlucky souls. Blood sprays in wild arcs, and the dead men never even had time to scream. Gunfire erupts.

You know he hasn’t even seen you, hasn’t registered that you’re alive and mostly well, tied in the center of the room. It does not matter to Sylus that the blood of these men has made it to you, spattering across your bare feet. He does not see it. He just knows you are here; he knows that you are hurting, and he knows that every person in this room responsible for your current state will die. Badly.

Except, you think, your mind pooling thickly, time slowing and slipping in a cruel, sticky way, he cannot know about the dagger.

The dagger that is plunging toward his chest. The dagger that sings somehow, a horrible requiem, a promise of goodbye. His eyes watch its descent, and then slip past it, finally, to you. You marvel at the surprise there. Someone has finally caught him unawares.

The dagger rips into his chest and you are caught in a fly trap of dawning horror, of a dropping heart rate, a pain so resounding, tearing at your insides.

Your ears ring.

Your throat is raw with a scream you do not hear.

Men wrench his arms behind him, and the dagger wielder strikes again, again, again. The gunfire has stopped.

When the sound comes back, you wish you’d simply gone deaf. The wet crunch of the blade sawing in and out of Sylus’s chest is a poison in your soul. But it’s his gasp that you know will follow you to your grave.

Sylus stumbles. And you watch the titan of a man fall. The man who has become so much to you, so much that you’ve not been able to define it, falls to his knees. You feel his blood speckle across your face, warm like summer rain, an anointing.

He looks at you, and you look back. Your name is a whispered prayer on his lips.

The world cracks open.

And so do you.

Your vision fails as your body bends, head thrown back, tears trailing down your temples into your hair.

Your eyes are wide open, but it isn’t the warehouse ceiling you see.

It’s a night sky.

And a shimmering cave.

It’s a vaulted chapel.

An ancient city.

A crowd of cold guardians, an organ, and chains on your wrists.

A tavern and a man on stage.

Treasures and weapons and gems and silks. A dagger with a studded hilt…

It’s your world crashing around you as you’re thrown into a pit. It’s claws around your throat and a tail around your waist.

It’s the sky rushing by like you’re flying.

It’s a field of flowers.

And a warm body beneath yours.

It’s the sunlight in his eyes.

It’s Sylus.

But not...quite.

A dragon carries you, sweeping through those who wronged you, cultivating your desires. He threatens and cajoles, he growls, and he bites. Your neck stings with his mark. Your skin is alight with it.

He lies in the field, and preens as you put flowers in his hair. Your lips barely brush his, and your heart screams when the vision within the vision fades.

You sob as the sword in your hands thrusts deep, and your dragon disappears on a warm breeze, your enemies slain in his final act of love.

And then it’s Sylus as he is now. Him in the boxing ring, sliding a ring onto your finger. It’s you and he in the snow, your hands brushing flakes from his hair. It’s you and he in the Grasslands, it’s you and he on a ship, silly little cat ears and all. It’s him making you dinner, helping you fight, smiling softly in the dark.

Beautiful garnet eyes are the last thing that vanish from your view.

As they’re fading now.

The cold air of the warehouse slams into you as your chair crashes forward back onto all four legs. You see the men standing around Sylus, watching the man—your man—dim. You see…and you do not see.

You do not know where you pull the sword from. You do not comprehend the way the air around you freezes, and then goes searing hot. You only feel the hilt in your hands, the weight of the weapon pulling at your arms. The rage that pumps the blood in your veins and the utter silence with which you wield the very weapon you once used to kill your beloved.

This time when the blade finds flesh, it is of those who deserve the death you deal.

The men never know how you got out of your binds. They never know where the dragon slaying weapon came from. And none of them would ever get the chance to whisper about it either. After all, what is a man to a blade forged against dragons?

But Sylus knows. In the dimming light he’d seen your binds melt away, had seen you stand and the sword settle into your grip like a lover’s hand, pulled from thin air, from time itself. The pressure and pain in his chest had ceased when you grasped the blade, and with it, eons of longing and anguish vanished like dust on the wind.

And then the room goes golden.

You sense your Evol, more than see it. The air crackles with the energy as your sword cuts through body after body. More men converge, forgetting to run, blindly thinking they’ll stop you. Maybe numbers will stop you. You are vaguely aware of the flash of the gunfire beginning again.

But your Evol meets another, and you gasp at the way flames fill your body. Power pours into you, curling around your Evol, stroking it tenderly. For the first time in all your life, you feel complete, and you pause for a moment to appreciate the power purr over your skin, before exploding from your pores and shattering the windows like a nuclear blast, reducing the shrieking men to mist. You never saw the way the lead man had eyed your weapon with a wild hunger as you cut through his men. But, your mouth curls into a nasty grin, you do watch his body turn to dust.

The sword clatters to the ground, and your body seems to hang, momentarily. You’re barely putting any weight on your feet, as if poised to spring forward and eliminate more threats. Sweat and blood drips down your face and arms. Your shoulders burn and your scalp tingles. You feel like you’ve been flying.

A soft moan brings you back to your body. Sylus is on his feet. Blood thick on his shirt, but not on his skin, and the sweat and blood of your face mirrors itself on his, and his wound is knitting itself back together under the glow of your resonance…

Your shared resonance.

A sob punches from your throat and you’re running and tripping and reaching for him. He reaches, too.

His hands are so large, yet so gentle as they thread through your hair and cup the back of your head. Because of the claws he’d never wanted to hurt you with. His shoulder is strong beneath your cheek, his body warm against yours as he pulls you impossibly close, alive and in your arms. He’s strong enough to keep you both standing, even as you shake uncontrollably.

You’re babbling as the last vestiges of the resonance fades. A tight, wounded, barely coherent torrent. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, forgive me, forgive me, I remember it all now, forgive me—”

And he: “Shh, shh, I know, I know, there’s nothing to forgive, my love.”

Over and over the hiccupping sobs and the body-wracking apologies. Tighter and tighter your fingers on his shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you, I love you, I love you.” And you do. You have, it would seem. Even now, without the memory, you know you have.

“I know,” he whispers. “I know. I was just waiting for you to know, too.” His fingers are soft on your chin and your lips, beneath your eyes as they wipe away the tears.

“I love you, too, sweetie.”

And, gods, has he. For millennia; forever.

[his-lost-one]

should i be asleep? yes. am i? no. so anyway i was thinking about my misophonia and decided to write a pan x reader story where the reader has misophonia. it’s very self indulgent tbh but i needed that, for my soul.

ship: pan x gender neutral!reader

title: eating alone

warnings: none really, but ofc there’ll be talk of misophonia and there’s a happy ending :)

(there are two endings for this, just choose whichever you prefer!)

word count: 1295

(ao3 link)

(fic under the cut)

You had just arrived on Neverland earlier today. It had been maybe 4 hours by now? You couldn’t really be sure, since you had no way to tell the time. However, Felix- the second in command had just given you dreadful news.

Well, dreadful to you. He probably didn’t think much of it. He told you that it‘ll be dinner time in about half an hour.

You hadn’t told anyone on this island yet about your …condition. And you had frankly hoped you wouldn’t have to, but apparently everyone here eats dinner together. At the same time.

And probably not just dinner, but all meals- You just hadn’t been there yet for breakfast and lunch.

From time to time, you almost felt lucky that your trigger sounds were limited to things like eating, drinking, chewing, swallowing and other related sounds. You had heard stories of people with much more common triggers and it made yours seem bearable in comparison- But right now, that is not how you were feeling.

You knew why you were here on Neverland. The shadow brings people who feel lonely, lost or unloved - That’s what you‘d been told. And for you it was clear which one you fit into. Lost. And maybe lonely too.

How could you not feel that way? Misophonia was a cruel fate- A condition most people hadn’t even heard of and just seemingly could never understand no matter how often you tried to explain it. So much socializing happens while people are eating together, and missing out on all of that… how could anyone avoid feeling isolated? It wasn’t fair, but it was something you had to deal with.

You weren’t exactly feeling hopeful that it‘d be different here. At best, maybe you could finish your food fast and then just run away until everyone is done eating. But who knows; apparently Pan can be really strict. What if you’ll be forced to stay until everyone is done? Sounds like horror. Or torture. Maybe both.

You hadn’t met him yet, so you couldn’t be sure, but you really really hoped he would understand at least a little.

You felt a pit in your stomach just at the thought of having to endure dinner, surrounded by countless loud Lost Boys. You trued to suppress a shudder and made your decision in this moment; you couldn’t want until dinnertime actually arrived, you had to find Pan and talk to him now.

Felix seemed to look up to him like some savior; Devin seemed almost afraid of him. You could only hope that Felix was the correct one here.

You walked to the tree with Pan’s treehouse. There was no ladder, since he can apparently just teleport up there and doesn’t need one. Probably useful to keep out unwanted visitors. But your situation was urgent, so you attempted something you’d never done before. You tried to climb up the tree.

You had managed to get up maybe a meter above the ground when a branch broke and you fell down right on your behind. You groaned in annoyance and were about to stand up and try again, when someone, probably Pan, appeared out of thin air in front of you.

“What in the world are you doing?” He looked down at you with a confused expression and one eyebrow raised.

“Pan..?” You asked, just in case he’s not the only one with teleportation powers.

“The one and only. Now, answer the question.”

“Right, right. I needed to talk to you. About dinner.” Your voice was shaky already- This had never been an easy topic to address.

He picked up on the nervousness and laughed as he completely unknowingly misinterpreted it. “Does the cute Lost One want to sit next to me?”

You visibly cringed at that and he immediately looked surprised at that reaction. Most people probably would not have reacted so negatively to the thought of sitting next to him at dinner.

“I have a problem actually.”

“Oh. And what would that be? Don’t tell me you don’t like the food, because that’s not a problem, that can be changed.”

“Oh, you’d be willing to change the food for me?” This had nothing to do with the actual topic, but you were still surprised.

He rolled his eyes before nodding. “Not the food, but your food. I’m a quite skilled magic user, so there are practically no limitations.”

You giggled, you weren’t sure why, but this hint of a willingness to accommodate already made you feel better. “Well, that’s cool, but not what I wanted to talk about. Uhm… Can I maybe eat separately from everyone else?”

He tilted his head to the side a little. “Why would you want that? You’re new here, don’t you want to get to know the others? Socialize?”

“I do, I do actually- But uh… I have misophonia.” You said the last word in a really quiet voice, but he seemed to have understood you anyway.

“Oh. Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” He seemed so nonchalant and he seemed to… know what you’re talking about? How had a guy living on an isolated magical island heard of this when most people around you in your old life hadn’t?

“I don’t know, I didn’t expect you to… understand?” You avoided his gaze nervously.

“Why would I not? I mean, you are the first Lost One with this condition, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t heard of it.”

“So… you’ll allow me to eat alone?” You look up at him, hope in your eyes.

Ending One:

He grinned as he held out a hand to help you up off the ground, where you were still sitting. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll enchant you, so you’ll never be bothered by any sounds again.”

You took his hand almost absentmindedly and looked at him in awe and admiration as he pulled you to your feet in front of him again. “You- you can do that?”

“Didn’t I just tell you? There are almost no limitations to my power, and a spell like that wouldn’t exactly even be difficult. Do you want it?”

You nodded furiously immediately. He smirked again and waved his hand, which was emanating a gentle green glow and for a moment you felt like nothing happened until a sudden, serene feeling of calm washed all over you. And only in this moment had you realized that all of the ambient sounds that hadn’t even been irritating enough to be called trigger were suddenly all neutral and not even a minor annoyance- Hell, some even sounded pleasant now. Like the wind or the birds chirping.

He looked quite smug as he saw the changes in your facial expression. “I take it you like the change?”

Instead of answering you just hugged him. You had never been this grateful for anything in your life- this was the biggest burden you’d ever had, lifted off your shoulders, just like that.

“So about that sitting next to you later, is that still an option?”

He rolled his eyes and nodded softly as he smiled at you. You didn’t notice the slight flush that appeared on his cheeks the moment you hugged him, but you did notice your own cheeks getting a bit warmer as he hugged you back.

Ending Two:

“Of course. Why would I not? I have no use for you being needlessly miserable. I’ll enchant your tent to make it soundproof, that way you’ll really have an escape whenever you need it.

You basically jumped up off the floor and hugged him, gratefully. “Thank you!! Thank you so much! I didn’t think you’d understand!!” The joy and relief in your voice was enough to make even Pan smile as he hesitantly hugged you back.

[tumbleweed-palmer]

Fic request! Reader x Palmer. Reader is relatively sexually inexperienced compared to Jimmy, who has been married and has a daughter. Reader's first and only experience was awful, and it's been years since that experience. Jimmy and Reader work together? xx

Overcoming Fear: Jimmy Palmer X Reader

smut obviously very filthy smut at that, tw: mentions of sexual assault, anxiety, loss of spouse.

There was no real guideline for dating as a widower. Jimmy had learned this lesson quickly. Sure, there were probably dozens upon dozens of books written about the subject of mourning and some of these books were focused on the demographic of widows and widowers, but there was no surefire guide to what dating could and should be after loss.

To be honest, Jimmy hadn’t imagined he’d find love again, not after the loss he’d endured. Loving another person in that way again had just felt so wrong.  He’d told himself that his heart was incapable of such a thing. He’d felt that it would be betrayal of the vows he’d made to his late wife. He’d convinced himself that he’d only been lucky enough to have one great love in his life, and he should consider himself lucky to have loved at all. He told himself that he’d lost his great love and that was the end of the story for him. 

He’d thrown all his focus on his work and his daughter at times neglecting his own wellbeing until he’d been convinced to start therapy.

Therapy had helped a little of course. It had at least given him a safe space to express his grief. 

Still though the concept of giving love another shot had seemed so impossible and had filled him with such shame. 

When Y/N had entered his life he’d felt an immense sense of guilt. She’d been hired on as Kasie’s much needed assistant in the lab and she’d managed to fit in well. 

She was a great girl; sweet, intelligent, a diligent worker, funny, professional without being an absolute stick in the mud, and something that Jimmy had noticed rather quickly; beautiful. 

Jimmy hadn’t been prepared for Y/N. The very first impression he’d had of her was that she was an attractive woman…the impression had left him filled with an overwhelming sense of shame. He’d mentally reprimanded himself, constantly questioning how he could have the audacity to find any woman other than his late wife attractive?

He couldn’t stop himself from making the observation. He found her stunning and he hated himself for it. 

He’d made his best attempt to avoid Y/N, as rude as it had felt. He’d of course not been cruel, he’d just done all he could to remain distant. He’d kept her at an arms length ignoring the exchanged looks of worry from his coworkers. He’d brushed off concerns about his unusually standoffish behavior. 

He’d been polite to Y/N but he’d never allowed her the same closeness he gave his other colleagues. 

An offhand remark by Y/N during a case had changed that distance. 

The case had been complicated; a dead petty officer who had possible ties to a terrorist group. The dead woman on Jimmy’s autopsy table seemed to be haunted by personal demons which may have contributed to her death. The biggest issue was the woman’s actions prior to her death. It had become obvious as the case had proceeded that the deceased woman laying out Jimmy’s table had secrets that might have a detrimental deadly impact on the living.

The case had called for a psychological autopsy of sorts. All hands on deck had been called in. Even Dr. Mallard had assisted via video conference.

Kasie and Y/N had assisted Jimmy and Dr. Mallard shuffling through the dead petty officer’s past and any clues she might have left behind that could help stop a possible terror attack on a navy shipyard.

The dead petty officer had experienced an immense amount of loss in her life including a mother who had died quite suddenly when she was a child.

Y/N had made one little comment upon this discovery. “I lost my mother when I was seven…right before my eighth birthday…it’s a rough age to lose your mom…especially for a girl…not that it excuses anything Officer Meyer did…I’m just saying, I can see how that might have impacted her childhood. Loss is hard enough on its own, being a kid makes it worse.”

The comment had caught Jimmy’s attention. His only thoughts had been of his own daughter. Victoria had only been seven when Breena had passed so suddenly. Jimmy couldn’t lie, Victoria had been struggling.

Victoria tried to put on a brave face for Jimmy and in turn Jimmy had done his best to put on a brave face for her. It felt as though they were both going through the motions though neither sure how to address the loss in their lives. 

He’d tried to address it of course. He’d done everything his therapist had suggested to address the loss with his daughter. He knew deep down the biggest issue of course was that he’d put his focus on Victoria’s feelings not being open about his own with her. 

It had resulted in an unspoken sadness between them that neither had the words to express. 

Jimmy couldn’t help himself, once the case had wrapped up he’d gone to Kasie’s lab, found Y/N and promptly spilled his guts and his trauma onto her.

He’d apologized of course,  but Y/N had been nothing but reassuring and kind.

She’d offered an ear to listen, an insight from her own experience of losing her mother, and a needed friendship and confidant.

Y/N and he had become surprisingly close. Jimmy hadn’t been expecting for Y/N to grow close to him but to his daughter as well.

Y/N’s niece had come to visit for a month during the summer. This niece was close to Victoria’s age and a playdate of sorts had been set up for the two girls.

Jimmy had thought it might be good for Victoria, having someone close to her age to spend time with. He’d thought it might be a way to experience some normalcy for Victoria. 

Neither Jimmy nor Y/N had been expecting for Victoria to bond with Y/N. It had seemed as though the girl had taken to Jimmy’s coworker turned friend. 

He guessed it made sense. Y/N was all the things a little girl might like; soft, gentle, and lovely. She wore pretty dresses and painted her nails with glitter polish. She wore sweet smelling perfume. She was feminine and cute and his daughter had been enamored.

After Y/N’s niece had gone home, the invitations for Y/N to spend time with both Jimmy and Victoria had continued. Victoria was often the one requesting that Y/N join Jimmy and her for pizza or a movie or a board game night. 

Jimmy had told himself it was a positive thing; Victoria having another adult in her life to open up to. 

Y/N and she shared a bond of sorts he’d told himself; both losing their mothers at the same age. He’d told himself that Y/N might understand Victoria in a way he sadly could not. 

Jimmy had been appreciative of Y/N’s willingness to accept Victoria’s requests for time spent together. He’d realized it was a good thing for his daughter; having a female in her life she could look up to outside of his mom. She could use a good role model, he’d realized. There were just some things Jimmy knew Victoria might not feel entirely comfortable going to Jimmy for even outside of her feelings regarding her late mother. Jimmy knew Eunice Palmer wasn’t getting any younger and Jimmy figured that his daughter appreciated having a woman much younger and more with the times to turn to as she grew older and encountered difficulties in peer relationships and fitting in with her peers. 

Y/N didn’t seem to mind time spent with the Palmers. She seemed just as appreciative as Jimmy was for the closeness.

She’d admitted it was nice to do something social given her life seemed to revolve around her work and she had a tendency to be a homebody as it was. 

With all this time spent together Jimmy’s and Y/N’s bond had grown far beyond just being a confidant for Jimmy and a positive role model for his daughter.

He’d felt a certain sense of attachment to her. She’d become someone he wanted to go to when he had good news. She’d become someone he missed when she wasn’t around. 

He’d told himself that she was just a good friend. She was someone who he felt he could turn to. She was someone he trusted. They were just dear friends and nothing more. 

Jimmy could distinctly remember the sentence that had changed everything. “I have to do a rain check on game night this Saturday. I have a date.”

The words from Y/N’s lips had felt like a punch to the gut.

He’d tried to tell himself even as he broke the bad news to Victoria that he was just worried that with a possible boyfriend Y/N might begin to dramatically change the dynamic she’d built with Jimmy and Victoria.

After all, he couldn’t possibly expect Y/N to spend so much time with Victoria and he if she had a romantic relationship to focus on. Would a boyfriend be willing to go along with Y/N’s place in the Palmer’s life?

He’d told himself that the gross feeling in his gut and the twist in his heart was just over worries that Victoria might take Y/N having her attention focused elsewhere badly. He’d told himself it was his own fault, letting Victoria cling to Y/N knowing that there was a chance that Y/N would move along with her own life and develop bonds outside of Victoria and Jimmy. He should have realized it wasn’t fair to expect Y/N’s life to revolve around his family. 

He had told himself he’d been selfish; clinging to Y/N so hard. He’d told himself he’d turned her into an emotional support security blanket of sorts. He’d leaned too hard on her without considering she might not always be there. 

When Jimmy had broken the bad news to Victoria over a family dinner with his mother, he’d not expected Eunice Palmer to make him wake up and see the true reality of it all.

He could still remember that conversation as he stood at his mother’s side after dinner doing dishes after Victoria had gone upstairs to finish her homework.

The words his mother had said had taken him by shock “You know you’re allowed to love her, honey.”

He’d played dumb of course. “What do you mean?”

Eunice Palmer had given him an all too knowing look as she’d explained herself. “Y/N.”

He’d shifted in place awkwardly, suddenly finding the pattern along the rim of the serving dish he was holding something deserving of his focus. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not like that mom. Y/N is just a friend. She’s just gotten close with Victoria and me…she’s really been there for us both.  I’m just worried about Victoria. She’s become attached to Y/N and I let it happen. I didn’t consider that it can’t always be like this. Y/N has been way too kind. I know she understands Victoria because she’s been in Victoria’s shoes…losing a mom and all. I know it’s not fair to expect Y/N to not have a life outside of my family. Y/N dating some guy is probably going to change things and I should accept that and find a way to explain it to Victoria. I can’t imagine the guy is going to be fine with his girlfriend spending so much time with her coworker and his kid. I’m just worried how Victoria is going to take the change. I know Y/N can’t always be there for Victoria and me for the rest of her life. She needs her own life outside of us. I know this is a good change, it’s just going to be an adjustment for Victoria.”

“That’s not the entire story of what’s bothering you though. I’m not blind James.” Eunice replied, making Jimmy’s stomach churn.

She spoke again before Jimmy had a chance to deny it. “Victoria isn’t the only one who’s become attached.”

“I have leaned on Y/N a lot. I’ve probably clung too hard to be honest. She’s way too kind to tell me I’ve been so needy…I am perfectly fine with her finding someone. She’s probably missed out on a lot of dates with great guys spending all her free time with my family. It’s..it’s for the best. She deserves it. She can’t spend her entire life being my emotional support. It’s not healthy for either one of us. She’s been a good friend, and she should find love.” Jimmy had insisted he turning the serving dish in his hands pretending he was inspecting it to make sure it was completely clean. 

His mother was fast to speak up, that knowing tone still evident in her voice. “There’s more than friendship there James, even a close friendship. I know you deny it, but I know better. I know you.”

Jimmy cleared his throat averting his eyes from his mother’s gaze, the words stubborn on his lips. “It’s not like that at all. I don’t…I don’t love her, not like that. I love her as a friend, nothing more. I can’t be in love with her.”

Eunice dried her soapy hands placing them on her son’s upper arms giving him a reassuring squeeze. “That isn’t true. You can be in love with her. It’s not wrong and you shouldn’t let yourself feel guilty for it.”

“I do though. I feel so conflicted. I catch myself feeling so happy when she’s around. Then I find myself missing and longing for her when she’s not here. She’s always on my mind or at least on the back of my mind. Anytime something positive happens I want to tell her first. When I’ve had an awful day I want to hear her voice. I’m even happy to sit in complete silence with her just because it’s her. Then I feel guilty because there’s only one woman I should long for and she’s no longer here. I made vows and I feel like I’m breaking them. I know Breena and I said until death do us part. I don’t wear my ring anymore…I know…I know those vows ended at death ... ..rationally I know I’m a human being and I’m capable of love even after loss, but I feel so conflicted about feeling love for someone else when I thought I’d found the love of my life. It feels like I’m doing something wrong.” Jimmy admitted the words tumbling out of him, forcing his gaze to meet his mother’s. 

Eunice held him against her, she fast to respond. “That’s the beautiful thing about hearts honey, they are capable of endless love.  Loving Y/N doesn’t mean you loved Breena any less. Love isn’t a competition. Love isn’t that selfish that it can only go to one person and end forever when that person is no longer here. I’d like to believe that we can have more than one great love in our lives. I don’t think that any higher power is cruel enough to make our hearts so they can only love one person and one person only. Love is endless. It doesn’t go away when someone is gone and it doesn’t fail to exist when someone enters your life”.

She pulled back from Jimmy speaking again repeating the statement that had begun this entire conversation. “You are allowed to love Y/N. The heart wants what it wants…and I see the way she looks at you when she thinks you aren’t looking. I think she’s just as afraid as you are. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s just as torn up about how she feels as you are about how you feel.”

She spoke again giving his arms a reassuring squeeze. “You need to ask yourself a serious question, sweetheart. You have to make a big choice. Do you admit how you feel and take a chance even if it’s scary and intimidating or do you let Y/N go and accept that things are going to change? The choice is yours, but whatever you do don’t let yourself make a choice out of shame or fear. You have to ask your heart what it wants and let it have it.”

The words had left Jimmy’s lips as he made his choice, his heart finally telling his shame to shove it. “I…can you watch Victoria. I have to go…I need to go. I’m not sure when I’ll be home.”

It was a huge cliche really. It had been pouring rain that night as he’d made his way to Y/N’s apartment and he’d managed to become a soaked mess by the time he’d made it to her front door.

The words had left him and everything had changed. “Please don’t go on that date. I am begging you to cancel it. Please, I should be the only one taking you on any dates. I love you. It scares the hell out of me…loving someone again, but I’d rather be afraid than deny how I feel.”

His confession of love hadn’t been smooth at all, but much to his shock and relief Y/N had stared up at him with tears in her eyes as she’d spoken “I love you too.”

His lips had met hers for the first time with that confession and they’d not looked back.

They’d had a serious talk that night after the kiss of course and there had been several serious talks after that night.

Figuring out the change in their relationship had been anxiety inducing at best. They’d been afraid Victoria might not take the change of Y/N being Daddy’s friend to Daddy’s girlfriend well, but much to their relief she’d been agreeable to the change. 

Jimmy knew Y/N had played a big part in making Victoria comfortable with the change. She’d worked hard to reassure the girl that her place in their lives wasn’t an attempt to replace Victoria’s mother. She’d reassured Victoria that just because Breena was gone that didn’t mean the love she’d felt for Victoria went away. Jimmy had reassured his daughter that his loving Y/N didn’t devalue or erase the love he’d felt for Breena. Moving forward didn’t mean you erased the past. 

Y/N had encouraged Jimmy to be open with Victoria about her mother. She’d encouraged him to have those talks and reminded him it was okay for Victoria to see him cry. When he’d been ready to begin packing away Breena’s things for Victoria, Y/N had helped him find ways to store the items and to involve Victoria in the process. 

Y/N had been a supportive reassuring partner as Jimmy navigated moving forward. 

She’d proven to be just as supportive to Victoria. They’d become even closer to the point that Victoria had spent some of her allowance buying one of those BFF heart necklaces for Y/N and she.

Y/N was the one who was happy to tackle whatever complicated hair tutorial Victoria had found on Youtube. She was the one who took Victoria to get manicures and eat brunch. They often had girl days. 

Seeing Y/N with his daughter had just made Jimmy love her all the more. 

It hadn’t been easy navigating love as a widower, but Jimmy had found that Y/N was patient and soothing. She wasn’t afraid to push him when he needed to move past his comfort zone or to hold his hand when he needed to be grounded and brought back down to a sense of comfort. He’d realized his mother was right; love was not selfish at all.

Love still felt terrifying of course, as beautiful and warm as it was. He still felt anxious about it all. It was still intimidating at times.

Tonight felt particularly intimidating. 

When Kasie had won a trip to Vegas Jimmy and Y/N had no qualms about accepting the invitation to come along, after they’d found a reliable babysitter for Victoria of course.

Of course the trip was given to Kasie with the promise that she’d spend plenty of time in the casino. Kasie as it turns out was a high roller in Vegas and the casino hotel they were staying at wanted her to gamble.

The hotel room Jimmy and Y/N had wound up with was far less lavish than Kasie’s but Kasie’s had been given to her with the promise of casino time and Jimmy’s and Y/N’s room had come out of their own budget. 

Jimmy and Y/N weren’t gamblers. So, that meant they’d been left to their own devices while Kasie spent time at the blackjack table.

So far they’d done a lot of sightseeing and eating. They’d even drank a little and played a couple of slot machines. Jimmy and Y/N had just been enjoying some one on one time together free of distractions that were involved in their everyday lives.

They’d been enjoying a grown-up vacation.

There was a certain sense of anxiety hanging in the air though over what they’d decided was going to happen on this grown-up vacation.

Jimmy knew they’d been working their way up to this but that didn’t make it any less intimidating.

As they rode the elevator up to their hotel room he was almost certain his heart was beating so loud that it had become audible.

When his beautiful sweet girlfriend had confessed her limited sexual experience to Jimmy he’d been dumbfounded.

That sense of shock had morphed into anger when she’d described her one and only sexual experience and exactly why it had turned her off of going that far with any guy ever again.

She’d described her first and only experience as being awful. She described an experience that was far too rough with a partner that hadn’t taken her pleasure nor her comfort into consideration at all. Her last sexual partner had been far too aggressive and more concerned with getting himself off than making it feel good for her. He had cared little for her lack of experience or her boundaries. She’d described the entire experience as being overwhelming in the worst way possible and anxiety inducing. She’d described a man who had seemed to manhandle and mistreat her more than make love to her. She’d described unbearable pain during the experience and a sense of feeling violated and empty when it was all said and done. 

Jimmy had felt his stomach turn at her descriptions of not being wet enough, bleeding, and her feeling overstimulated and unloved. He’d felt his heart twist when she’d admitted that though it had been years, the concept of sex still scared her. 

Jimmy Palmer wasn’t a violent man, but hearing all those details had left him feeling certain that if he was ever left alone in a room with his girlfriend’s former sexual partner then Jimmy would be sure the other man left in a body bag.

Jimmy had done everything in his power to reassure her that he was fine waiting as long as she needed him to before taking their relationship in that direction. He had worked hard to promise her that he was a grown man who was capable of moving at her pace. He had promised her that he was mature enough not to feel disappointed or as though he was missing out on anything if sex was something they waited for. He had done his best to show her other ways they could feel intimate with one another without going with more traditional means in the bedroom.

So, they’d made out a lot, more than a lot. They’d moved at her pace and Jimmy had eagerly taken what she was willing to give him. They’d spent a lot of time kissing, grinding against one another, and giving lingering touches over one another’s clothing. They’d never proceeded further than that though. 

When they had decided to take this adult-only vacation Y/N had said the words that had made Jimmy’s heart feel as though it was stopping and racing all at once. “When we’re in Vegas, I was thinking we could go further than we’ve been going…as in all the way. I think I’m ready…I want to at least try.”

Tonight was the night they’d agreed to try and Jimmy was filled with a cocktail of emotions and anxieties.

He prayed his hands weren’t sweating as held her hand in his, allowing her to lead them out of the elevator and to their hotel room.

He tried to focus on his breathing as he fished the key card out of his pocket, his hand shaking as he moved to open the door.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, their faces both flushed pink from more than the dry heat outside. “I’m going to go get ready. I won’t be too long.”

He nodded his head, certain that his heart was racing so quickly it might zoom out of his chest and take off across the room. He managed to speak hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “I’ll get things ready out here. Take your time.”

Jimmy studied the room as Y/N disappeared behind the closed bathroom door. He debated taking the extra step and ordering champagne through room service but he knew they’d had some overwhelmingly sweet fruity cold cocktails hours ago and he knew they were both lightweights. The cocktails had been enough to ease some of the anxiety but Jimmy didn’t want to risk either of them becoming impaired.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his stomach in knots as he moved around the room, straightening up some of the clutter that had accumulated over the past two days they’d spent on this vacation thus far. 

He shuffled through the plastic shopping bag they’d acquired earlier, his cheeks flushing as much as they had when the purchase had been made as he fished out the tube of lubricant they’d bought just in case.

He took a deep breath second guessing the choice to not buy condoms. She was on the pill and they’d agreed they were comfortable moving forward with that being their only form of birth control.

The idea of moving forward with that little protection filled Jimmy with an equal sense of excitement and anxiety.

The entire concept of what was due to happen tonight actually filled Jimmy with a mix of lust, excitement, anxiety, and fear.

This was a huge step not only for Y/N but for him as well.

She was trusting him to move past her fear and experience this with him. 

It was a huge responsibility. Jimmy could admit he had his own fears about tonight.

This was the first time he’d be intimate with someone new in over a decade. He knew he wasn’t inexperienced but he felt clumsy and daft.

He feared disappointing or underwhelming Y/N. He was terrified of triggering some bad memory or just flat out being a lackluster defective lover. What if he made this experience awful for an entirely different reason than her only past experience? 

Being with a new partner was intimidating enough, then add on a bad past experience on her part and his experience being tied to one partner for over a decade and it felt incredibly terrifying and nerve wracking.

Jimmy wasn’t even sure he’d been this anxious his very first time.

He took another deep breath, shakily kicking his shoes and socks off a voice in the back of his head reminding him that there was nothing dorkier and less seductive and being nude except for a pair of socks.

He chose not to strip down completely, deciding to just ditch the cargo shorts he’d bought especially for the desert heat.

He found himself left in boxers and his t-shirt he making his way over to the bed.

He debated getting under the covers but decided to hold off on it, choosing insead to pull back the bedsheets making sure they had easier access.

He made sure the bottle of lube was accessible on the bedside table he dimming the lights by the bed making the room less bright and hopefully making the atmosphere in the room less intimidating.

He sat on the edge of the bed trying to calm his racing heart as he mentally prepared himself for this.

He was silently debating the best way to perhaps prolong his stamina, a voice in the back of his head telling him that it had been so long since he’d done this that he might orgasm far too fast, when the bathroom door opened.

He quickly forgot his game plan to think about his least favorite sport, baseball if he felt himself getting too close to cumming far too soon, when she exited the bathroom.

She felt her cheeks flush debating if the white silky chemise was a little too on the nose. Though she knew she was no virgin the choice in such a pure sweet looking white silk nightgown seemed somewhat cliche in hindsight.

The chemise was low cut enough that it gave a healthy view of cleavage and it was short enough that it made her legs look incredible in her opinion. It fit against the curves of her body nicely and the fabric felt heavenly against her skin. The lingerie had been well worth the price. 

Worries that she was a walking cliche disappeared when she caught sight of her boyfriend’s gaze, the man looking up at her like she was by far the most stunning sight he’d ever seen.

He stood up from the bed, his knees feeling wobbly, his heart racing all the quicker.

He made his way towards her his hands held out to her, almost sure he’d trip over his own feet and break both his arms in the process.

He took her hands in his once again praying that he wasn’t sweaty or clammy. He spoke, unable to hide the lust dripping from his voice. “You look perfect.”

She felt the words leave her first instinct to give him one response. “There’s no such thing as perfect.”

“I’m looking at it.” He insisted the words coming to him without any sense of hesitation.

She released one of his hands reaching up to caress the side of his cheek, Jimmy unable to stop himself from leaning into her touch. It was something he’d discovered throughout their relationship; he was touch-starved. 

He was just relieved she was so willing to offer soft touches and gentle reassurances.

He leaned down his lips meeting hers, the kiss soft and uncertain almost like the first kiss they’d ever shared.

It didn’t take it long for the kiss to grow in confidence. He released her other hand, his hands finding a place at her sides, a soft moan leaving him at the silken feel of the fabric against her skin.

Her hand moved from his cheek placing at the back of his head, messing his hair as they continued to kiss. Her other hand placed at his side she gripped down onto his t-shirt trying to calm any anxiety swirling in her gut.

She pulled from the kiss the anxiety easily becoming a lingering pest in the back of her brain. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything, I’d do anything for you.” He was fast to respond, he was certain of the promise. He would give her anything. He was sure of it. She could ask him to go bungee jumping off the roof of their hotel right now and he was certain he’d agree to do it.

She felt her cheeks flush hoping she didn’t sound so childish for what she was about to request. “During it, can you talk to me? Just keep talking to keep me in the moment? I just…I want to know it’s you…I mean.”

She paused her stomach knotting up. “I know I’ve told you I’ve tried to do this before once after that first time…I tried with one other guy after my first experience but I couldn’t go through with it. I just thought it was easier to swear it off after that. The only other time I tried it with another guy…when I got brave enough to try I…it was easy for me to get in my head and panic and it stopped everything from proceeding. I don’t want to panic. I want to be reminded that I’m doing this with you…I guess I’m just thinking you always know what to say to make me feel safe. I want to feel safe. This should be about expressing love and I know it shouldn’t be scary. I feel so dumb for feeling scared…I’m a grown woman but I just get so in my head. I know I’ve made you wait so long and now I’m making it complicated. I know that it may sound like a stupid request but...”

He felt his heart ache and twist at the request he quick to reassure her not allowing her to devalue her own needs or apologize for taking this at her pace. “I’ll keep you in the moment. I promise, I will do whatever you need. It’s not dumb, nothing you need from me is dumb or something to be sorry for.”

She felt her eyes well up with tears. She spoke feeling pathetic. “Sorry for forcing you to give a pep talk…I’ve probably wrecked the mood.”

“You haven’t. How many times have you given me a pep talk? I recall you talking me down that first time we made out in my bed and I got weird. I’m pretty sure I’ve had to have you talk me through my fair share of misplaced shame and all my other baggage.” He reminded her his lips pressing to her forehead.

He embraced her, giving her a moment to relax, rocking her in place trying to wordlessly make it clear that they were moving at her pace. He didn’t care if it took all night and it was all stop and go. He wanted to make this what she deserved.

Her hand placed back at his cheek gazing down at her she becoming lost in his gaze for a while. She was almost convinced no one had prettier eyes than Jimmy Palmer. She was convinced that no one had kinder eyes either.

His kindness had played a factor into her falling for him.

She felt like the luckiest girl in the world. She had a kind, intelligent, sweet, funny, thoughtful boyfriend. He was an incredible father and a gentle partner. 

Falling in love with him had given her a sense of mixed up emotions. Adoration mixed with the guilt of knowing he was only hers because he’d lost such a big part of his heart.

Falling in love with a widower wasn’t without its misplaced guilt. Jimmy had mentioned his own shame but she could admit to hers as well.

She could remember the biggest thing that had broken that shame and made it fade. It had been a talk Jimmy had with Victoria about his relationship with Y/N as he’d tucked her into bed one night. It had been pretty soon after their relationship had become romantic. Y/N had only heard part of the conversation, but the words had still stuck out to her. 

“Loving Y/N doesn’t mean you and I didn’t love your mom. Loving Y/N doesn’t mean we love anyone else any less. I’ll always love your mom and I know you’ll always love her too. I loved your mom so much. Your mom is going to always love us even if she’s not here anymore. Love is pretty special because it’s not limited to just going to one person. Love is something that should be shared. You can’t hold on to love too tightly and you can’t refuse to give it to someone. Our hearts are big and they are filled with so much love. You shouldn’t hide any love you feel in your heart. You should always let people know you love them even if it feels scary. Life is so short. Remember how we talked about how everyone dies? Dying isn’t the important part honey. It happens everyday. Love is way more important than death. Everyone may die but love doesn’t die.”

If she’d had any doubts about loving Jimmy Palmer she was almost certain they would have died that night as she’d overheard that conversation. 

He was right, love was to be shared even if it was scary.

She pulled back from his embrace just enough to speak the request soft on her lips. “Can we lie down?”

He nodded his head wordlessly, taking her hand in his, leading her to the bed he thankful they’d gone with a larger hotel bed even if it had brought the price of the room up.

They laid down side by side Jimmy taking the opportunity to ditch his glasses on the nightstand before he turned his attention back to her.

His lips met hers, his hand reaching out to caress her side.

He knew that this was not an unfamiliar position lying side by side their lips locked.

She placed a hand at his cheek feeling a little bolder allowing one of her legs to slide over his scooting closer to him.

He moaned at the sudden movement, the chemise riding up exposing more of her leg dangerously close to revealing the lace of her panties.

She pulled her lips from his feeling daring enough to reach for the hem of his t-shirt pulling it up. He took the hint pulling it up and over his head tossing it across the room.

He felt his pride spike at her reaction to his bare torso, her moan soft as she took him in. He knew that he took good care of his core and his abs were always something he could at least feel confident about even if he wasn’t always the most psyched about the rest of his appearance.

She placed a hand at his side caressing his warm skin, his lips pressing back to hers he reaching out to caress her over the chemise.

She reached down, finding a little more confidence placing her hand over his maneuvering it to slide under her nightgown, his large hand pressing to her bare skin.

She spoke her voice a soft plea. “Talk to me please.”

“You’re so soft, the softest.” He blurted out the blood flow moving far enough from his brain to fill other areas of his body that he couldn’t find it in him to worry if he sounded dorky or foolish.

He lips pressed to hers between words. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too.” She managed to reply her lips pressing against his he continuing to caress her shyly exploring without pushing too far.

She placed a hand at his back caressing his skin, she moving her lips down his neck nipping at his skin, certain she’d leave a mark behind. She moaned at the thought.

Jimmy groaned at the stimulation, he continued to talk, saying anything that came to his brain. “Your lips feel so nice. I could kiss you forever.”

He continued to caress her, her lips and tongue sliding along his pulse point. He whined the lower region of his body, easily reacting.

She pulled from his neck her lips slightly swollen, the slight hint of lipstick she’d worn earlier smudged.

She placed a hand at his cheek, her eyes locking with his before she spoke. “Tell me you love me.”

He moaned the words falling from his lips without any second thought. “I love you. You have no idea just how much I love you.”

She placed a hand at the hem of her chemise pulling it up, she sitting up enough to pull it up and over her head.

She felt her cheeks flush this being the most exposed she’d been in front of any man in a long while.

Though a voice in the back of Jimmy’s head screeched to be a gentleman and to show some self control his eyes shifted down to her bare breasts an audible moan leaving him.

He spoke more to himself than to her. “Fuck.”

She let out a soft moan, the response surprising. Jimmy Palmer was not the type of guy that threw around curse words by nature. She wasn’t sure if it just came from being a parent, or if he was just naturally that polite. 

She relaxed back against the bed, their lips meeting again. Jimmy hesitantly reached out to touch her side, remembering to speak. “You’re so perfect. I love you so much.”

She dared to scoot closer to him, her bare torso pressing to his the sensation making audible gasps and moans leave them both.

She wrapped an arm around him she tracing his skin. Jimmy spoke against the kisses daring to ask. “Can I touch them?”

It took her lust hazy brain a second to clear and realize what he was suggesting but the answer came without doubts. “Yes, please.”

He groaned a large hand pressing over her breast. He caressed her skin before gently massaging her breast. His fingertips slid across her nipple teasing it, the action working a moan from her. 

He spoke following through on what he’d promised. “They’re so perfect, so fucking soft and full. Looks so perfect in my hand. Fuck, I’ve touched them over your clothes before, but this is so much better.”

He paused, managing to bring humor into the moment even if his brain was preoccupied with lust. “Just warning you, you’ve probably created a monster. I’m going to touch these any chance you allow it.” 

She managed to laugh at the comment the response leaving her. “I’ll allow it as long as we aren’t in public.”

He spoke again knowing he sounded desperate but he refused to take any step without her consent. “Can I kiss them, please, baby?”

“Please.” The reply left her she feeling breathless, her own lust beginning to flood over any other coherent thought.

He locked his lips over her breast suckling her nipple desperately. He moaned against her skin the vibration making her whimper. He spoke against her damp skin his lips and tongue teasing her nipples. “I love you. Thank you.”

She moaned surprised by the reaction her body had to him thanking her. She couldn’t deny that her clit throbbed at the statement as innocent as it seemed.

She placed a hand at the back of his head messing his hair as he continued to focus on her breasts kissing, sucking, and nipping at the delicate skin giving her the distinct feeling that at this rate she was going to have at least one serious hickey pressed to at least one breast. 

He spoke between the stimulation his voice muffled more praises and thank yous spilling from him each word making her center clinch. She was certain her panties must be drenched at this point. 

She was astounded given that if someone had asked her a few years ago she’d exclaim that she couldn’t comprehend going this far with anyone, but here she was wet and desperate with a man she was crazy about attached to her breast praises spilling from him.

Jimmy moaned against her skin knowing he was so hard he was almost sure he could break glass. 

The fear that he might possibly be a disappointing lover seemed to be slipping from his brain the only thing he could focus on was the woman beside him and the moans leaving her. He knew he was babbling against her skin the words needy and full of reverence; beautiful, soft, perfect, sexy, incredible.

She reluctantly scooted from his ministrations, feeling her cheeks flush from more than arousal as she spoke. “Can you take your boxers off?”

He moaned almost sure he’d never moved faster in his life. His movements were so clumsy that he was shocked he didn’t accidentally kick her or fall off the bed.

He managed to somehow lose his boxers kicking them somewhere across the room.

He felt a spark of insecurity begin to blossom in his brain. Maybe he should have manscaped a little better? Was he way too hairy? Would this spook her given that he was fully nude now even if it was at her request?

She dared to gaze down at him her cheeks growing darker any insecurity that had been blossoming in his brain withering up and dying at her words. “Fuck, it’s thicker than I thought.”

He gazed down at his erect cock, he almost certain the sight must look a little ridiculous they both gazing down at his privates examining his dick. 

He felt his cheeks flush at the statement the words leaving him. “I’m pretty sure I’m mostly average…I mean I’m pretty sure I’ve read that the average length is around five and a half inches though most guys will argue that they’re at least six.”

“You’ve looked into it? I mean you’ve researched it?” She dared to ask, the amusement somewhat evident in her voice.

Jimmy felt his cheeks flush further. “I have a deep understanding of anatomy due to the nature of my profession…and I had a lot of access to the internet and a lot of freetime in my early twenties.”

She spoke, still unable to tear her eyes away from his cock. “Can I touch it?”

He moaned his cock twitching at the request as though it was answering for him. He nodded his head trying to balance out being needy and reassuring all at once. “Only if you want to. I…I don’t want you to feel you know…like I expect it. I want to move at your pace.”

She tore her eyes from his cock as she pressed a kiss to his lips. She couldn’t hide the adoration from her voice as she spoke. “I want to touch it, trust me. I want this.”

She pulled her lips from his staring back down at his cock. She reached forward gently wrapping a hand around him, a soft gasp leaving her.

He moaned his gaze following hers. He whined as she placed a thumb at his tip rubbing the slit gathering the precum that had begun to bead up. She used it to swipe across the tip of his cock his balls throbbing at the action. 

He spoke certain he was supposed to keep up with his promise to talk to her during this entire experience. “Fuck, oh babe. Love you, fuck.”

He groaned knowing it wasn’t the most eloquent thing he could say but it was hard no pun intended when she was currently sliding her thumb along his sensitive tip precum desperately seeping from him.

She spoke her voice soft. “I should probably use some lube before I go any further? Can’t imagine it’ll be any fun dry?”

He desperately reached out, finding the tube of lube he’d left on the nightstand fumbling through opening it as he handed it to her.

She took the lube and her cheeks flushed. She was unsure where she’d found the confidence to be this dominant after all she’d spent so long terrified of all things related to sex. She guessed it was just that it was Jimmy. She trusted him immensely. Exploring this with him and giving sex a chance seemed less intimidating because it was him.

The further they went tonight the less frightened she felt. 

She warmed a healthy amount of lube in her hand before wrapping her hand around him. Jimmy moaned at the sensation, his hips moving a little eager to chase the stimulation. 

He spoke as she began to stroke him, unable to take her eyes off him, almost fascinated with the concept that she was feeling this confident and making him feel this good. “I love you. Oh my God, babe. That’s so…that’s perfect, just like that.”

He kept his eyes locked on what she was doing to him, almost sure that this was the most erotic thing he’d seen in his life. He couldn’t help but to wish he could save the sight in his brain forever. Her delicate hand wrapped around his slick cock, her nails painted a bright shade of blue, he leaking against her skin making a mess.

He gripped down onto the bed sheets, his gaze unable to leave her treatment of him. He spoke his voice needy. “I love this so much. Fuck that’s so perfect, my love.”

He whimpered his balls aching it taking everything in him to say the words he hating that he had to stop this so soon. “I don’t want to cum like this, not right now. Fuck it’s so tempting. You can make me cum like this later.”

She pulled her hand from him, the giggle that left her making him throb all the more. “I’m going to so do this again before we leave Vegas.”

He moaned as her lips pressed to his. He managed to speak against the kiss. “I feel pathetic for being so close that quick. It’s been so long.”

He felt his cheeks flush all the darker the confession spilling from him. “I mean I’ve jacked off probably a little too much especially lately, but you know someone else touching me is way more intense.”

He resisted the urge to bury his face against the pillow and never emerge knowing he had a case of babbling and shoving his foot in his mouth as it was. Apparently if his dick got any stimulation he became an even bigger social disaster.

She spoke holding her hand up thankfully not calling him out on his confession. “Got a tissue?”

He moved quickly, finding them on the nightstand she cleaning herself.

His lips met hers, the kleenex going somewhere on the floor.

He moaned his cock pressing to the lace of her panties he resisting the urge to grind against her.

She caressed his body, not shy about grasping onto his backside giving it a squeeze, her voice teasing against his lips. “Not going to lie, pretty sure I spent way too much time staring at your butt before we started dating…and probably a lot of time after.”

He moaned against her lips, his voice just as teasing. “Stared at yours too, it’s okay.”

She spoke, deciding to take the next step feeling more and more confident the longer they went. “Jimmy, take my panties off please.”

He groaned, his hands moving sure his movements were clumsy. He spoke as he began to slide them down her hips. “I’ve never heard a prettier request.”

He stared down at her, a moan spilling from him as they worked her panties down her legs they disappearing somewhere towards the foot of the bed.

He kept his hand at her hip unable to work up the nerve to move it as he gazed down at her center.

She spoke uncertain of how to read his gaze. “I thought about doing a full brazilian wax, but there’s something about that just feels I don’t know…too much. So, I just decided to take care of the bikini line and clean up as usual.”

He nodded his head a moan leaving him. “Good choice. To be fair though…pretty sure I’d like it no matter what.”

She couldn't help but to giggle though she had a feeling he was being sincere.

He stared down at her overwhelmed with thoughts of what he wanted. He wanted to bury his face in her pussy. He wanted to bury his cock in it. He wanted to bury his fingers in her. He wanted to cum on her and in her.

He shoved the thoughts back a voice in the back of his head fast to speak up Let her set the pace dumbass.

She spoke a hint of shyness sneaking in now that she was completely bare in front of him. “Can you touch me…and keep talking please.”

He nodded his head eagerly reaching forward, his fingers sliding along her slit. He spoke the moan leaving him. “You’re soft here too. Fuck, my love, you’re wet too. You’re soaked.”

He spoke needing to get the green light from her. “Can I put my fingers in? I want to make you feel good.”

“Please.” The words barely left her before he slid one finger through her slickness allowing another to join along beside it.

He spoke his voice thick with lust. “Oh my god, fuck, you are so wet. You’re tight too and hot.”

She whined as he stroked his fingers experimentally sliding them in and out of her. The sensation wasn’t unfamiliar from when she occasionally touched herself but his fingers were far larger and they went a lot deeper than her own.

She spread her legs encouraging him the action working a praise from him. “So perfect, such a perfect girl, letting me make her feel good.”

He found her clit rubbing soft circles against it causing her to grip down on the bedsheets a moan leaving her.

Jimmy spoke daring to ask. “Can I taste you? I want to go eat you out, only if you’re okay with it. I won’t be upset if you say no.”

She nodded her head no doubts appearing in her mind. “Do it, please Jimmy.”

He moved down her body, his voice reassuring. “I obviously won’t be able to talk to you down here, but if you need me to stop just say the word. I won’t be upset.”

She nodded her head relaxing a whimper leaving her as he removed his fingers from her center he unable to stop himself from cleaning her taste from them. He spoke a moan leaving him. “Love how you taste. I said earlier I wasn’t going to be able to stop touching your breasts, but now I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be able to keep my mouth off your pussy either.”

She felt her center clinch there something so satisfying about hearing him say something so filthy. Maybe it was just that she knew it was a side of him only she was getting to see.

He spoke his breath warm against her center. “You ready, babe?”

She nodded her head the answer leaving her with no hesitation. “Yes.”

He lapped at her center slowly, delicately taking his time. He encouraged her to place her legs over his shoulders, wanting to be as close to her pussy as possible. He moaned against her those fears he had about being a disappointment in bed fading even further away.

He wasn’t lying. He had a feeling he’d want to spend even more time down here if she’d allow it.

He licked her from her perineum up to her throbbing clit unable to hold back any sounds of pleasure from his own lips. The moans and whines of his name that left her encouraged him to keep it up.

He gazed up at her from between her thighs moaning as he watched her reaction, her head thrown back one of her hands massaging her breast.

He reached up allowing his hand to take its place eagerly massaging her breast toying with her nipple causing her to gasp his name all the more.

She managed to speak her voice soft and sweet. “Oh, God, Jimmy. Feels too good.”

He moaned in response his cock leaking precum against the sheets he hoping he wouldn’t cum from this alone.

He began to focus on her clit remembering her reaction to his fingers moments ago. The action made her thighs quiver a whine leaving her as he gently sucked at the bundle of nerves.

He allowed his fingers to slide into her center sliding in and out of her as his tongue busied itself with her clit.

She gripped onto the back of his head pulling his hair probably a little too hard her voice shaky. “Fuck, Jimmy. I’m gonna…I’m so close.”

He moaned in response her comment encouraging him to continue; she so wet she was dripping down his fingers as he thrusted them in her center. 

She cried out her thighs shaking her back arching her end hitting her so quickly and suddenly she almost felt breathless.

Jimmy continued to focus on her clit, his movements a little gentler and slower as he worked her through her orgasm.

As she came down from her orgasm the stimulation became too much she frantically moving out of his touch.

He stared up at her, the adoration clear in his eyes as he once again cleaned her from his fingers.

He pressed his lips to her thighs wanting to check in on her well aware that he still needed to be delicate with her. “How are we doing? You okay?”

She spoke, her voice shaky. “Fuck, Jimmy. So good.”

She took a deep shuddering breath, her body feeling limp and pleasant. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard.”

He felt a sense of pride wash over him, he moved back up her body, pressing soft loving kisses to her skin. 

His lips met hers, she gasped at the fact that the lower region of his body was still very much alert and excited. 

She whimpered as his cock brushed against her center desire, easily flooding through her even in the afterglow of the most intense orgasm she’d ever had in her life.

She spoke almost sure she’d never been so certain of anything in her entire life. “I want more. Want you in me.”

He groaned, his cock aching at the request. He spoke needing to know she was sure. “Are you sure? You’re ready? I don’t want you to feel pressured. Trust me, babe. I’m having a good time regardless of if we continue or not.”

“I want more, please Jimmy. Make love to me. Want you to bury yourself in me and make me cum again.” She replied not above lying it on thick wanting to express just how badly she needed this to continue.

He groaned at the words, his voice still hesitant. “And you’re sure we don’t need the condoms? I mean...you're 100 percent sure you're okay proceeding without…I know you’re on the pill and we're both clean. You're completely sure about this?.”

He felt his cheeks flush remembering the awkwardness of the first conversation they'd had about birth control. He was pretty sure he’d blurted out that he wouldn’t mind having another kid but he would prefer to wait even if they waited a while and it made him an old dad. He was also pretty sure he mentioned that they should talk to his daughter before they even considered trying for a baby.

He was just relieved that she hadn’t minded his babbling and hadn’t run far far away at the mention of making a baby. She'd given him the gentle reassurance that she was on the pill and had been for a long while. She was fine not bothering with dealing with condoms if he was okay with it. It was a waste of money if she was on the pill she'd pointed out.

She caressed his sides, the neediness clear in her voice. “I'm so sure. I want to feel all of you. Please, Jimmy. I need you.”

He groaned, nodding his head, the question leaving him. “Me on top?”

She nodded her head, the response leaving her. “For the first time. We are definitely trying other positions before we leave Vegas.”

He groaned, nodding his head knowing she’d get no arguments from him on those plans.

He reached down grasping his cock in his hand sliding it along her center trying to coat himself in her knowing the lube they’d used earlier was most likely dry by now.

He spoke needing to ask as he positioned himself at her entrance. “Do we need lube?”

She shook her head a giggle leaving her. “You just ate my pussy like it was your last meal. Pretty sure you know how soaked I am. I don’t think we need the extra moisture.”

He giggled at the comment, his cock twitching at the reminder of what he’d just done to her.

He took a deep breath needing to say it. “If it gets to be too much just say the word. I’ll stop no hurt feelings.”

With that he thrust forward her tight center enveloping his aching cock. He groaned as he buried himself in her slowly to the hilt a cry leaving the both of them as his pelvis pressed to hers.

He spoke knowing that her request to talk wasn’t any less relevant now. “You feel so good. So so so good. Could spend the rest of my life here.”

She giggled at the statement Jimmy groaning as her body shifted against him. She spoke her voice light and airy as she stroked his skin. “You fill me up so good, Jimmy.”

He moaned at the comment daring to rock against her, not quite ready to pull out just yet. “You’re so fucking wet and you’re so snug around my cock.”

She whimpered at the comment needing to say it. “I love you.”

“I love you so much. Love you.” He replied, finally forcing himself to pull out before thrusting back in.

He did his best to keep his gaze locked with hers as he found a rhythm, her legs wrapping around his hips, tilting her hips back giving him a deeper angle to thrust.

He groaned as he watched her reaction, he was sure he’d never get enough of seeing her in this moment. Her eyes struggled to stay locked with his and not slide closed as she soaked up the pleasure. Her lips were parted soft sweet moans leaving her. 

He spoke, continuing to rock in and out of her. “You’re so perfect.”

She whined at the praise, her nails digging into his back as he sped up his pace. The only thing that managed to fill the room were shared moans, soft praises, the creak of the hotel bed, and the sound of his skin meeting hers.

He groaned the words leaving him not caring if he was just saying anything that came to his brain. “Feels like your body was made for me, feels too good. Fuck, you’re never going to get rid of me after this. Gonna follow you like a lost dog. I’m yours.”

She pressed her lips to his a giggle leaving her. “Don’t want to ever get rid of you.”

She dared to reach between them, finding her clit rubbing tight circles against it. Jimmy groaned as it hit him what she was doing. He made a note to get her to do it again in those other positions she was promising he wanting a better clearer view. “That’s my girl, fuck yes. Help me make you feel so good. Want to make you cum again. Gonna make you cum so much before we leave Vegas.”

She whimpered, doubling down her head falling back ,the stimulation almost too much. She was almost certain if this was anyone but Jimmy she would have tapped out by now.

She was amazed that something that she’d been so afraid of for so long now managed to feel so amazing. She knew that Jimmy was the main factor in it feeling so wonderful. No other man would have ever made her feel this secure to ever give any of this a chance after last time.

Her last experience was pushed so far from her mind the only thing she could focus on was the man over her making her feel this amazing.

She whined, her body sliding closer and closer to finding release for the second time tonight. Jimmy sensed it, he speaking unable to stop himself from babbling it clear he was struggling not to become lost in his own pleasure. “Fuck, hon, oh God, beautiful, feels too good, oh fuck, perfect love.”

Her clit throbbed her body sliding closer and closer the feeling euphoric and so all consuming. She could feel the tension building in her body, she sliding so close to release.

She felt herself slide over the edge, Jimmy's name leaving her lips ,she digging her nails into his back she was almost sure she was risking drawing blood.

If she was, it went unnoticed by Jimmy, the sensation of her center fluttering around him she so soaked and hot he almost wanted to cry.

He did his best to keep thrusting through her orgasm though his movements were sloppy and clumsy, his cock aching his balls drawing close to his body signaling his own end was right around the corner.

It didn’t take long for him to follow her right over the edge as she finally began to come down from her own orgasm. He only managed a couple of clumsy thrusts, his own body reaching its end.

He moaned so loud he had to bury his face against the pillows, almost certain he’d deafen her or piss off their neighbors as he fell over the edge.

He spilled into her his release hot, his hips weakly thrusting. He knew they were making a mess as he came deep inside of her, her body taking it all a soft gasp leaving her the sensation intense even with as overstimulated as she was from her own orgasm.

He collapsed against her his body feeling heavy and drained as the last of his release seeped out of him.

His cock began to soften knowing any movement would mean sliding from her warmth but he found himself unwilling to pull out of her. He was relieved that she held onto him desperately, apparently just as eager to keep him within her as he was to stay.

He whined as his anatomy won out over his will he sliding from her.

He reluctantly rolled off of her, wasting little time to slide as close to her as possible.

She turned to face him cringing both at the soreness between her thighs and the smallest hint of their mixed releases leaking from her.

Jimmy reached out, smoothing back her hair, his voice raspy and exhausted. “You okay?”

“Never better…what about you?” She dared to ask knowing that tonight had been just as big of a deal to him.

“So good, perfect.” He insisted daring to lean in his lips sliding along hers lazily.

She returned his kisses, her voice soft and drowsy as she struggled to stay awake. “I love you.”

“Love you too, so much.” He insisted his hand pressing to her cheek his other hand pressing to her back as he held her against him.

She held on to him just as tightly, her voice so sleepy. “Can we share a bath after we rest?”

“Definitely. A bath sounds perfect. Then I think you said something in the midst of passion about trying other positions. I know we’ve got a week in Vegas, but there are a lot of positions out there. We can probably even google some new ones.” He replied, his lips pressing to any bit of skin he could reach he unable to resist teasing her about her earlier comment about different positions.

She giggled, nodding her head. “The hotel does have free wifi. Rest first though.”

He managed to speak as her eyes slid shut, his lips pressing to her temple, his own eyes growing just as heavy. “Love you, thank you for not letting me be scared to love you.”

[pedroshotwifey]

Joel Fucking Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (Can be pictured as either HBO or Video Game version)

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, Smut with a lil garnish of angst, kinda mean Joel, Borderline Dark!Joel, but consent is given at a point, one singular spank, rough piv sex, exhibition kink, slight humiliation/degradation, possessive behavior, enemies to lovers-ish?, reader is a menace but we love her, spit kink, anal play, this is pure filth and I'm not sorry

Summary: You and Joel Miller have been sworn enemies from the very start, both of you at each other’s other's throats since the first glance. What he can't know is that you have been harboring a stubborn crush on him this whole time---It’s not until he has you up against a wall that you realize he feels the same way.

A/N: Now that I have all of my one-shots posted, I'm going to start posting my ongoing stories as well as some new works. I'm almost finished with the Frankie Sex Pollen fic so that will be posted sometime this week. I will also be working on creating both a masterlist and a recommendation list, so hopefully that should be done soon too. Thanks for reading!

***

Today has been a shitty fucking day—no pun intended. 

Not to say every day isn’t shitty here in the QZ, but this one really takes the cake. To start your fabulous day, you woke up an hour late, making you one of the last people in line to pick up jobs. When you got to the assigning station, you found that you had been left with two options for the week: janitorial service at one of the mess halls, and sewer duty—where you literally have to shovel shit. The only card left for the mess hall was an all-day shift. You took them both.

That's why you find yourself here now, below the city, finishing up sewer duty, covered head to toe in stench and sweat even though it’s the middle of winter. You’re pretty sure you are the last one down here; it’s been a while since you saw or heard anyone else. You aren’t surprised. You’re used to being the only one who cares enough to actually finish whatever job you were tasked with that day, no matter how repulsive it may be. 

You don't take pride in much, but you are willing to admit that you admire that quality about yourself. You are a damn hard worker and you aren’t afraid to show it. You have no idea where it stems from, maybe your stubbornness, or possibly your inner perfectionist. Whatever it is, you find yourself often wishing that more people would have the same mindset. God knows it would make your life easier at the very least. In the time you have spent in the Boston QZ, you have only had the pleasure—or maybe you should say displeasure—of meeting one other like-minded person. 

You became acquainted with Joel Miller within the first day of being in the QZ, which was about three years ago now. The first glance you got of him was as you were being hauled through the gates, lucky enough to have not been shot on the spot when a couple of FEDRA officers caught you hiding out in the woods. Your eyes met his before they met anyone else's, and he’d held your gaze, his expression anything but welcome, as if he were trying to evaluate you with one look. 

By the looks of it, he had to be at least a couple of decades older than you, but that didn’t stop the heat that started to simmer between your legs at the first glance you got of him. When his eyes didn't leave yours, you took it as a challenge and forced yourself to keep your gaze on him until he was completely out of sight. You knew what you were doing, and so did he, both of you deciding on the spot that you would be enemies until one of you either died or left. 

Sure, you knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to piss people off before you made any allies, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. From the first second you saw that man, you knew that one way or the other—one of them being a heated feeling you chose to ignore—he would be trouble. As per usual, you were right. If you didn't know any better, you would have said that he was dead-set on following you around, bumping into you at almost every job you took. At first, you had been convinced that he had been doing just that.

 The first couple of times it happened you considered it some stupid coincidence, some twisted kind of unluckiness. Granted, it wasn't every time, but it was more often than not, and that was more than enough for you. By the fifth or sixth time out of ten, you waited until the very end of the shift, until it was only Joel and yourself left working. You kept a close eye on him, and as soon as he started wrapping up, you cornered him. That had been the first time that you had ever actually spoken to each other instead of tossing nasty glances back and forth. 

You had immediately gone to work with your rushed interrogation, demanding him to tell you why he was following you, to tell you what his problem was. The most frustrating part of the whole ordeal was the way he had sat back, leaning on one leg with his arms crossed, his expression bored as he waited for you to finish. He said nothing until he was positive that you had nothing more to say. 

“I ain't followin’ you, kid,'' he had said, his voice deep and more pleasant than you would have liked it to be. His tone was hard, as you had expected it would be, but the tangy southern drawl and depth of his voice took you off guard, an unwelcome heat suddenly forming between your legs—which only pissed you off more. 

The stone-cold look in his too-pretty eyes only worsened the feeling, and suddenly you found that you weren't able to speak; you didn't even know what you had come up to say at this point.  “Don’t fuckin’ bother me again,” he muttered and pushed past you before you could realize you had been staring.

***

“You just gonna fuckin’ stand there all day?” A much too familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts and back into reality. Speak of the fucking devil. 

“Just finishing up, Miller,” you spit, not bothering to look in his direction. You can hear him start to walk up to you but you ignore it, opting instead to actually finish what you had been doing. It only takes a few more seconds, and by that time, you can practically feel Joel staring a hole into your back, no more than a few feet behind you now. 

He doesn't move, so you continue to ignore him and start walking to the ladder so you can get out of this literal shit hole. You only make it a few steps before you realize that he is moving with you, following at the same distance he had stopped at before. Your jaw ticks as you spin around on your heel, so suddenly that Joel almost knocks into you.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you ask him as sweetly as you can manage, the fire in your eyes contradicting your tone. His own eyes narrow as he takes a step back, crossing his arms in his usual fashion. 

“Maybe you should learn how to help yourself first before you go offerin’ it to other people, princess.” He says the name as an insult, and you have to bare your teeth to keep your composure. 

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean, old man?” You ask him, taking a step toward him. He doesn't back away this time, instead taking a step toward you in reciprocation. The two of you lock gazes and stare at each other for what could have been ten seconds or ten days before Joel breaks the trance and shoves past you instead of answering. 

You just stand there and let him climb the ladder to the street above you. You can see right through him, the asshole wants a reaction, and you're not going to grant him that satisfaction—not this time anyway. 

You wait for a few minutes until you can be sure that he's long gone before you grit your teeth and turn on your heel, walking to the ladder and hoisting yourself up. As you reach the surface you catch a whiff of yourself and scrunch your nose. You need a fucking shower.

***

The next day, you wake up in a sour mood, already dreading today's job—janitorial services. At least it's not scooping shit this time. You’re the first one there, as per usual. The hall is a mess after breakfast and you take a deep breath as you think about the fact that even after you scrub it spotless, it will be trashed again by the end of lunch and then again after dinner.

To top it all off, it's ridiculously cold in the room, the fire lit in the back of it not doing much to increase the temperature. You look down at your white cotton t-shirt under your flannel and find yourself wishing you had put a thicker undershirt on.

There aren't many people working with you on the first shift, only the usual other three this morning, not that you're complaining of course, it just means fewer people to get in your way. You keep your eyes to yourself most of the time, only looking at someone if they address you to ask for help or to comment on something. Before you know it, lunch has come and gone and you are preparing for dinner. 

You notice halfway through that time that your friend is working the second shift, and she approaches you so you can work together for the rest of the time, though she only has the after-lunch shift. Rachel is a hard worker for the most part, though she likes to slack off a lot, but you appreciate the help while you have it. The two of you gossip and joke quietly until it's time for her to leave and time for you to sit back and wait for the dinner crowd to flood in.

***

It feels like a week has passed by the time the last person clears out after dinner, and you breathe a sigh of relief—you’re so close to getting back to your apartment and into your welcoming bed. You immediately get to work on sweeping up the trash that collected underneath the tables, eager to get out of here. 

There are only two other people working with you this shift, which is weird because FEDRA usually has at least four people on each job, but you brush it off. They seemed to know each other and they blab amongst themselves as they work. At least the couple seemed like they were in the same mindset when it came to getting this job done, so you didn’t mind the fact that you are missing a crew member. 

Halfway through your sweeping, you hear the door slam open, startling you and the couple that is now busy with taking leftover dishes into the kitchen. The chill that sweeps through the large room makes you assume it was just a gust of wind, probably blowing snow into the doorway. 

Great, something else to clean, you think as you huff an annoyed breath. 

When you turn to face the sound though, you find yourself wishing that the problem had been snow, but of course, when did anything ever go your way? The supposed gust of wind is actually Joel fucking Miller.

Your mood immediately sours and you have to fight not to roll your eyes as you watch him slink into the room and follow the couple into the kitchen. You hear the girl inform him that he was late—as if he didn’t know, or care for that matter. He only grunts in response. You don’t bother to stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. If Joel sees it, he doesn't say anything. 

***

An hour later, Joel hasn’t bothered you, much to your relief. The only time you have to look up from your work is when the couple from earlier bids you farewell before they walk out the door. There is nothing left to do but scrub the tables, which you are doing now. 

You only have two to go, and then you’re free for the rest of the night. Now that you're the only one left, the room is almost eerily silent, the only sound being the drip of water as you dip your sponge into the bucket and wring it out. After the table you are working on is thoroughly cleaned, you move on to the last one. It sits right next to the busted window, and you shiver as you walk past it. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” The baritone voice sounding from behind you just about causes you to jump out of your skin, the bucket of water in your grasp suddenly spilling over your front. Of course, it was a huge fucking bucket, so it was enough water to coat almost your entire body. 

The white t-shirt you have on under your thick flannel is soaked through so that it’s practically transparent. Dropping the now empty tub to the floor with a loud clang, you swivel on your heel to face Joel, who is leaning against the wall to his right, arms crossed.

 If he sees the fire in your eyes, he ignores it as he smirks at you, obviously humored by your reaction—and likely by the fact that he can see your bra. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, every expletive or reprimand that comes to mind doesn’t seem to cover what you want to say. 

As you stand there soaked in dirty, soapy water, you find that you can do nothing but stare. Your gaze is stuck on the man still standing in front of you, not a twinge of empathy in his own, which he has trained on you in return. You have no idea how long the two of you stay rooted to the same spots, staring each other down, but it must have been at least a few minutes because you can feel your body start to involuntarily shiver as your drenched form begins to freeze. 

Of fucking course you had to have been standing right next to the broken, half-assed boarded-up window, and not by the fire that still rages into the chimney on the other side of the room. 

The cool air sweeping in seems to trap you in its frigid grasp, threatening to turn the grayish liquid that covers you into ice. You can't help it as you finally move, bringing your arms up to cross over your chest in a feeble attempt to warm your rapidly cooling body and cover your exposed undergarment. You flinch as your arm presses the freezing fabric closer to your skin.

The action seems to break the invisible spell that had set over the two of you because Joel takes that as his queue to take a step back off the wall and lift his chin. The movement makes him look bigger and you have to lift your own to look into his eyes again. You can only hope he sees the fury that burns on your own. If looks could kill, he would be dead on the floor right now. 

“You’re fucking joking,” you are the first to break the silence. The quiver in your voice would be embarrassing if not for the fact that it was placed there out of anger. The asshole who put it there must know it too because you can see the way he swallows as if trying to rid himself of his guilt, though if that’s what he is feeling, he doesn’t show it any other way. 

You can expect that the action will be the only sign of such a thing—if Joel Miller doesn't want to feel a certain way, he doesn’t, simple as that. You have never once met a man more rude, nor stubborn as the one currently in front of you.  

“Didn’t realize I was bein’ funny,” he says, straight-faced with that stupid southern drawl that you have come to despise. You don’t reply as you continue to stare daggers at him, and you can't tell what’s making you shake more at this point—the layer of fucking ice about to coat your body, or the unmatched rage that brews in your mind.

 Right now, you would place your bets on the rage, considering it’s actually starting to warm you up. The sight of Joel, arms crossed to mimic your own, still staring down at you like he's some fucking god, only fuels the feeling. Sighing quietly, your eyes shut as you try to calm yourself down before you say something you would really regret. It only takes a few seconds until you speak again, which might not have been long enough, truthfully speaking. 

“That was pretty fucking shitty, even for you, Miller.” You manage to get the sentence out through gritted teeth, but it sounds strained. Anyone would agree that it sounds like you are trying your best to contain yourself, though it’s obviously a task you are struggling with. He says nothing, and his body gives nothing away, so you speak again. He knew exactly what was going to happen if he snuck up on you like that, and he probably didn’t even give it a second thought.

“I mean really, how fucking immature can you be? You really thought scaring me while I was holding a tub of dirty water was the best way to get my attention?” Your mouth starts to let words out before you can even think about what threatens to escape, and there is nothing you can really do but allow it to happen. 

Your lips are moving far too quickly for your brain to comprehend at this point, your anger completely taking over. As hard as it can be to hold yourself back from an argument sometimes, you always managed—but this was the last fucking straw. 

“And why the fuck are you even here? You obviously don’t have anything left to do.” Your voice is quickly raising but you doubt you could do anything about that even if you wanted to right now. Of course, it doesn’t matter how loud you get, you could probably scream right in his face, it never seems to affect him.

“Seemed lonely,” he says simply, shrugging and shifting off of the wall. He looks at your bewildered expression and decides it would somehow make it better if he elaborated, though you both know that he only does it to dig further under your skin. 

“Never got anyone around, s’ all. Too fuckin’ stubborn n’ self-absorbed to make any friends.” His tone is condescending and nonchalant at the same time, like he is both stating a fact and trying to beat you down. You continue to stare at him as he finishes. This is a whole new level, one you wouldn’t even have assumed Joel would ever jump to. 

You’ll admit it, he’s managed to find one of your most delicate insecurities, and he knows it, too.  Even before the outbreak, you always had trouble making friends, your anxiety and general mistrust always got in the way. Every time you thought you were getting close to someone, you would push them away. It was your biggest fear, being betrayed by someone close to you—a worse fear, you decided, than being alone. 

To this day, you have only ever let one person really get to know you. When you met Rachel during your first week in the QZ, she showed you a sort of open kindness that let you know she was a good one. You knew then, and you know now, that she would never do anything to hurt you in any way. 

In the time that you've gotten to know her, she’s become the best friend you’ve ever had, and the only one you wanted. But she is only one person after all, and she can’t spend all of her time with you, so you find yourself on your own most of the time—and of course, Joel Miller, of all people, would pick up on it. 

“You are such an asshole, Joel,” you spew out after a moment. “And you have the audacity to call me lonely?” You can't help the tears that start to blur your vision, so you ignore them as you continue to rant, your hands now flying wildly. The pit of insecurity in your stomach is starting to grow to the point where you feel like it will swallow you whole. 

“You act like you’re so much fucking better than me! Who do you have?” Through your watering eyes, you can see the way Joel flinches slightly, and as much as it pleases you that you seem to have finally found a soft spot, it also eggs you on. You recognize it and think to yourself that he's a fucking idiot for pointing out the fact that you don’t have anyone in your corner when he has the same exact problem. 

“Huh? You say I'm alone, and maybe I am, but I’ve never seen you with anybody.” Your vision starts to clear as you feel hot tears begin to streak down your already-soaked cheeks, allowing you to see the deep scowl set on Joel's face. It almost scares you how mad he looks, but it's too late to back down now. 

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something, but it never comes. His silence only encourages you, and you know you probably seem immature as you continue to insult him, but it gets pushed to the back of your mind as you quickly realize it’s the least of your worries right now. Your tears are streaming freely at this point, your breaking point finally has been reached. The words are coming out faster than you care to stop them. 

“You have no fucking friends, Joel,” you spit out. That one definitely struck a nerve, and you watch as he takes a step towards you, his face giving you a warning expression as if he already knows what you are going to say next. You know his history, and you know it's a bad idea, you know it is, but you say it anyway.

“You have no friends…” You pause, your brain subconsciously trying to talk you out of what you’re about to do. Of course, you don't listen. “...and you have no fucking famil-” you get cut off as Joels hand makes contact with your throat, his grip crushing your windpipe as he pushes you back until you hit the wall and lifts you onto your toes so you are looking into his rage-filled eyes.

He says nothing for a moment as he lets you struggle in his firm grasp, watching you writhe and try to gulp in air. The panic that courses through your body is almost paralyzing, sending a hot flash throughout your entire body as your brain catches up with what's happening. 

You find yourself panicking even more when you realize that fear isn’t the only thing your senses seem to be overwhelmed with as his hand tightens around your neck. The wetness beginning to gather in your panties is suddenly the biggest problem you are faced with, an unwelcome feeling or arousal suddenly making itself known. 

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion as you feel your hands start to claw at the one wrapped around your neck, no doubt leaving raised scratch marks across his wrist. The man doesn't wince or falter though, as you struggle to try to pry his hand away. You can feel your mouth opening and closing, though you’re unsure of what you are trying to say. You suspect it's something along the lines of “Please”, but no sound comes out. 

Eventually, after you realize that nothing is going to come from your struggle, you let your body fall limp, the only movement left is the tears that still crawl tauntingly down your cheeks. Though some of them may still be from the anger that had overcome you before you felt his large palm on your throat, most of them are now evidence of your shame. 

Logically, you reason that there is no way for him to know what kind of response his aggressive actions pulled from you, but you can't help but feel like somehow, he can see right through you. 

Upon seeing you submit, Joel lifts you more until you are close enough to feel his hot breath fan across your face. He loosens his grip enough so that you are allowed to catch a breath, but not enough for you to fall away from him. He starts to lower his arm, letting your feet hit the ground, but he leans his body down with your own so that his face stays less than an inch away from your own the entire time. 

You know that realistically, he only had you in the air for a few seconds, but it felt like an hour with the fear—and unexpected lust—that was coursing through your veins. Though you are still trembling with the silent threat he delivered, you seem to be able to calm down a little as his hand loosens and slides around to the back of your neck, only holding you in place. 

You stare into his eyes because you have nowhere else to look, and are almost surprised to see the array of emotions on display. You see anger, impatience, annoyance, a hint of restraint, but the one that seems to dominate them all is the one that takes you aback the most. You see in his eyes, what must be a reflection of your own. 

Your mouth drops open again as you begin to place the look of longing and desire that burns in Joel's gaze as he stares you down, his mouth just centimeters from your own. You take a chance and allow yourself to look down at the way his lips almost brush yours, his own mouth parted as you both try to calm your ragged breathing. 

You have no idea why you suddenly feel this way—well, you do, you just refuse to admit it. You hate his fucking guts because he is the only man that has made you feel something since before the outbreak. Every time you look at him, it is evidence that you are still capable of letting your guard down, that you are still weak. 

You promised yourself the first time you understood what the potential problem with Joel Miller could be, that you wouldn’t allow it to become one. But this god-damned man makes it so fucking hard to keep that in check when he is staring at you like he wants to ruin you. 

You feel his hand tighten around you again, and you snap your eyes back up to his, suddenly blushing as you realize that you have been staring at his lips for far too long. For once, you are at a loss for words, you have no idea what to say that might save your ass from looking like you had been doing exactly what you had. Thankfully, you don't have to wonder for long because Joel cuts right back to the chase, seemingly shaking himself out of his own thoughts as he speaks again. 

“You want to try that again, little girl?” Fuck. How the fuck are you supposed to ignore the pit forming in your stomach when he says shit like that? You are too caught up in thinking of a response to answer him immediately, and he clearly doesn’t appreciate that as he shifts his position, pushing you back further into the wall behind you. 

When he moves, you realize that one of his legs is slotted between your own, and your eyes widen as you feel how close his thigh is to your center—one little movement and you will give yourself away. You must be dripping at this point, and if he's not close enough to feel the heat coming off your cunt from where he stands right now, he will be if he moves any closer. 

Steeling yourself, you opt not to speak as you bring your hands back up to grasp at his wrist again. Joel watches as you struggle to get a grip before he growls and uses his free hand to grab both of yours and place them on the wall above your head. Your eyes somehow widen even more and you want to shrivel up into a ball as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

You need to move now. You can't let this man see what he does to you, the way your body reacts to the way he so easily dominates you. You know that you have no time to plan anything out, so you do the first thing that comes to mind—you try to tug your hands out of his grip and you lunge to the side. 

You’re not sure why you even attempt it, you know that it won't get you anywhere, but you do it anyway. Of course, he overpowers you once again, and nothing changes but his grip, both of his hands tightening as he leans in even closer to you. The new position causes his thigh to crush into your throbbing clit, and before you can stop it, a whimper breaks through your lips.

Nothing is said for a moment as you stare at Joel with shame, and him at you with a newfound amusement. You can feel yourself melting on the spot, and you let your head hang in humiliation, your eyes trained on the ground next to Joel, who is now smirking as he stares back at you. You feel his thigh crush into you again, deliberately this time, and you have to bite your lip and close your eyes in concentration so as to not give away any more sounds. 

You hear Joel chuckle darkly above you, and the sound goes straight to your pussy. How are you supposed to resist this man when he sounds like that, when the rough denim of his jeans is rubbing you in all the right places as he begins to rock his thigh back and forth, making you bite your lip even harder. The hand on your neck suddenly releases its grip and you feel his thumb come to your mouth, tugging your bottom lip until it falls away from the punishing bite of your teeth. 

“C’mon now, princess,” you hear Joel speak again and you can't help but moan softly as he sets his hand on your hip, starting to guide you across his firm thigh. 

“You’ve given yourself away now, you ain’t gonna get outta this one.” His tone is taunting as he presses down on your hip, bringing you down harder against him. 

The pressure on your clit is almost overwhelming with pleasure, and you find yourself moving on your own, beginning to chase the orgasm that has suddenly come within your grasp. You can’t help it with the way your wet jeans rub you just right and the firmness of his thigh is just enough to push the seam of them onto all the right places.

“F-fuck you, Miller,” you say, opening your eyes and bringing your head back up to look into his eyes, hoping the anger is apparent in yours. He stares at you for a moment before he speaks again. 

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he moves his hand down to where your cunt meets his thigh, and places his thumb right on your clit, rubbing quick circles. The touch is all you need to send you over the edge, becoming a moaning mess under Joel’s body. He’s right of course, you want him to fucking ruin you. God, you hate it when he’s right. 

He continues the circles on your clit as you come down from your high, riding you through it. When you are finally able to catch your breath, you look him in the eye to find him staring right back at you. His gaze is intense and full of want. 

“You want me to quit, darlin?” You can tell by the way he says it, that he asks genuinely. He would stop if you said the word. As much as you want to hate him, you know that he is respectful enough that he wouldn’t do anything to that effect without your consent.

Joel may be an asshole, but he would never put his hands on a woman in that sense if she showed any sign of resistance. Though he didn’t seem to have a problem with wrapping his palm around your throat. 

“I can give you more, all you have to do is ask,” Joel says after you don't answer him. His gaze is hungry as he waits for your consent, his eyes slowly tracing up and down your body, taking you in. When he looks back to your face, you nod slowly, watching as his already blown-out pupils seem to take over his irises. 

“I'm gonna need to hear you say it, darlin,” he says as he brings his chin up to the side of your head, nibbling your earlobe and making you shiver. 

“P-please, Joel,” you say, giving up the act. You know you want him, he knows you want him, and now you know he wants you, too. 

“I need you, please.” At your signal, he doesn't wait any longer as he starts to pull you away from the wall, his free hand traveling back to the back of your neck, the other still grasping your wrists. Before you can figure out where he’s moving you to, your chest slams onto one of the tables, the force almost enough to knock the wind out of you. You had expected him to be rough, but not this rough… not that you mind. He’s clearly done with being gentle with you now that he has free reign.

“Jesus, Joel,” you say, throwing him a look over your shoulder as much as you can with your neck still being pinned down. 

“You fucking mind?” You hear Joel chuckle behind you and feel him step closer to you, pressing himself against your ass and leaning over so that his chest is flush with your back. 

“Nope, not at all.” His breath tickles your ear as he whispers into it. 

“Now I'd be quiet if I were you, girl,” he tells you, his tone almost threatening. “Unless you want to wake the whole town, of course, cause now that I’ve started, I ain't gonna stop.” Your eyes widen and a whimper falls from your lips as he finishes his threat and pushes his top half off of you. 

“Maybe you’d like that, huh, little girl?” he pauses his sentence to rip your pants and panties down in one fluid motion, making you cry out.

“Let the whole town watch me fuck you, show everyone who you belong to, who this cunt belongs to.” He knows you too fucking well, knows that you’re thinking about it now, salivating over the thought of someone walking in on you like this, your pants around your ankles, him, balls deep inside of you, taking what he wants. 

“Dirty little girl, out here whorin’ herself out to me so quick. Slut’s just damn desperate for some good fuckin’ cock.”

You hear a sharp zip from somewhere behind you and you struggle out of instinct, pushing up on the hand holding you down. He ignores your protest and slams himself into you, sheathing himself in one fluid motion, giving you no warm-up or time to adjust. 

You expected him to be big, but you weren't expecting this. He's fucking huge, stretching you out and reaching depths you didn't even know existed. You scream out at the sudden burning intrusion and Joel moves the hand that isn't on your neck to your mouth, silencing you halfway through the outburst. 

The tears that fall from your eyes catch on the palm of his hand as he brings his cock almost all the way out before slamming himself back in, setting a brutal pace. 

“Tha’s alright baby, Ima take good care of you,” Joel assures you through gritted teeth. “Make you feel real good creamin’ all over my fat cock.”

Your fingernails scrape the surface of the table once he releases your hands, scrambling for purchase as Joel slams into you without remorse. You’re almost surprised at how quickly you feel the knot in your stomach start to build back up, the pain promptly turning to pleasure as Joel brutally shoves his cock into your already-sore pussy. 

The sounds of Joel's grunts, your muffled sobs, and the squelching of your cunt quickly fill the room, you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so cock-drunk on Joel. Right now, the only thing you can focus on is the way the head of his dick slams into your G-spot with every harsh thrust. 

The way his dick drags against your walls makes you clench with every swift pass. That combined with the way his hips slap against your ass might just be the best thing you’ve ever felt. 

Your body begins to go slack, your stomach and chest pressing harder into the table, you barely even register Joel's hand being removed from your mouth until you hear your unfiltered moans break through. 

“Jus’ wait one second, darlin,” Joel's voice is strained as he talks. You try to nod back at him but find that it's a bit hard when your bones have melted. His pace never falters as he reaches down to where he pulled his pants down just enough to free his thick cock and heavy balls. 

When his hand finds the open buckle of his belt, he tugs it through the loops and uses the edge of the table to fold it once before bringing it to your lips, pushing it toward you until you bite down on it. 

He tells you something, by his tone it sounded like a command, but you can’t seem to make out the request.  If you weren’t drooling before, you certainly are now with the taste of leather on your tongue. Joel smirks to himself as your moans quiet down with the help of the belt. 

“There ya go, such a good girl holdin’ on t’ that for me,” he runs his fingers through your hair as you keen at his praise. He can feel your cunt tighten around him as your second orgasm approaches once again and he has to steel himself so as not to come right then and there like some teenager. Instead, he brings his hand down to touch your clit again, not with his thumb, but with his middle three fingers, rubbing up and down, immediately setting a furious pace. 

The new sensation combined with the pistoning of his hips pushes you over the edge and you have to bite down on the belt so you don't scream as you receive the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had. It's like nothing you’ve ever felt before, the white-hot pleasure almost blinding you, and the force of it almost pushing him out of your cunt. 

You sob as you listen to Joel talk you through it, telling you how good you're doing for him, how you were made for him to stuff his cock into. His pace never falters as you gush around him, but he does push himself further into you so as to not be forced out of you. 

The strength of his thrust is enough to surge you forward, the table screeching on the concrete floor below you as it too is moved forward slightly. After you come down completely from your high, he grasps your hands and tugs them behind your back for leverage, fucking down into you to chase his own pleasure. 

“Goddamn, darlin, tight, young, little cunt, squeezin’ the fuckin’ life outta me.” His dirty words are almost humiliating as he throws them out, but you love every moment of it, the way you clench around his cock giving you away quickly. 

“Oh, you like that, little slut?” he almost sounds surprised as he continues rambling. 

“Filthy little thing, lettin’ some old man stuff his cock into your sweet little pussy. ‘F you didn’t take dick so good I would think you’d be a damn virgin.” You whine beneath him as much as you can with the leather between your teeth, a shameless request for him to keep talking. 

“Yeah, you like that, huh, little girl?” He grants your wish, spewing more filthy comments every few thrusts. “Like bein’ told what a f-fuckin’ whore you are f’ me?” You keep, drooling on the belt trapped between your teeth.

Suddenly, you feel the large hand that was pinning your neck disappear, only to reappear on your ass, making your eyes widen as Joel quickly slides to your other hole, his thumb right above the tight ring of muscle. 

Usually, you would want to struggle, but for some reason, the thought of Joel taking you there is something you find yourself wanting. He feels you squeeze around him again and he chuckles at your desperation. 

“Now, you’re just full of surprises, ain't ya, princess?” He says, his voice even more strangled than it was before. It almost sounds like it should be painful for him to talk. He stops talking for a moment to allow his saliva to drip down and slide down your ass crack. 

“You’d let me fuck you here, wouldn't you, little girl?” Fuck this man, you both know the answer to that. 

“Put my dick in this pretty little ass?” When you don't object, you feel him spit on top of his thumb again before pushing it into you. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes curl as he slides his thumb into you until he can’t anymore. The intrusion triggers your third orgasm, your body melting into the table as you press back into him. It’s less intense than the first two, but you are still fully consumed by the waves of pleasure that wash over you.

If you had been standing, you would have fallen to your knees. You’ve never felt so full in your life, the feeling almost overwhelming as he leans on top of you again, continuing to whisper filth into your ear. You can tell he’s getting close by the way he lets go of your wrists and tangles his fingers into your hair, slamming himself somehow even deeper inside of you.  

“Tell me who these fuckin’ holes belong to, princess,” he spews out through gritted teeth, pulling the belt away from your mouth and throwing it somewhere off to the side. 

“Who makes you feel good, makes these little holes feel good?” When you don't answer immediately, your unleashed moans and whimpers making it almost impossible, he uses the hand that’s not fingering your ass to deliver a sharp slap to your left cheek. 

“Fuck, fuck Joel it’s you,” you practically sob as you tell him what he wants to hear, what you want him to hear. 

“T-these holes are yours Joel, you make them feel so good, they belong to you, all yours,” you cry out frantically. Satisfied with your response, he rubs over the red spot on your skin before returning his hand to your neck. 

“That's right,” he praises you softly and you soak up every word. “Such a good fuckin’ girl, knowin’ who she belongs to.” He thrusts into you half a dozen more times before his pace finally starts to falter. 

“W-where do you want me, sweet thing?” As he asks you, all you can think is “fuck this man for being respectful with shit like that.”  If he hadn’t asked, you probably would have shoved him away, but instead, you make another stupid decision—why the fuck not at this point? 

“I-inside, Joel, inside me, oh my god, fucking c-come inside me,” you’re only slightly aware of how desperate you sound as you beg for his cum, but again, you can’t seem to find it in you to care. You let your cheek rest on the cool surface of the table and close your eyes, too exhausted to hold yourself up any longer. 

You hear Joel groan and start to say something above you, but he cuts himself off as he releases inside you with a strangled moan, almost like he is biting down on his lip so as not to shout. 

A stream of curses laced with your name spills from his lips as he twitches and pulses inside you. The feeling of his hot cum spilling into you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It seems like forever before he stills, practically collapsing on top of you, his cum dripping around his softening cock and down your thighs. 

Despite his weight on top of you, you think you could probably manage to fall asleep there. Your body has never felt so spent and tired, every muscle sore in one way or another. Joel waits only a minute before lifting himself off of you, and you attempt to lift your head to follow his movement, only for your cheek to be gently pressed back onto the table by his palm. 

“Jus' hold on a second, princess.” His tone is softer than you’ve ever heard it, and it makes your heart warm, but you can't resist the perfect opportunity to tease him as it presents itself. 

“You’re happier after you get your dick wet,” you say with a small smile as you follow his request, letting your eyes close as you bask in the feeling of euphoria that’s taken over your body. 

At your snippy comment, you expect him to scold you, or maybe to swat your behind, which is still presented for him. What you don’t expect is to feel his tongue on your spent cunt. Your body jolts and your eyes snap open at the unexpected feeling, your reflexes causing you to try to sit up again, only to be pushed down by Joel’s hand on your lower back. 

“I said to wait a second, darlin’,” he says as he pulls away from you, his tone more stern now. He waits until you nod your head to return to your pussy, dipping into your hole and lapping up your mixed release. You shudder as his tongue grazes your overstimulated clit, but do your best to hold still for him. 

After he seems to have gotten his fill, you feel him pull away again and stand up to lean over you. His hand suddenly grabs your chin, making you twist your neck slightly so that you are looking up at him. He keeps his mouth shut as he brings it to his own before squeezing your cheeks, making you open your lips, and drops his jaw open. 

You gasp as you feel the combination of his spit and your cum mixed with his own slowly spill onto your tongue. He keeps his eyes open and locked onto yours as he keeps your lips together and lets the liquid drip into your mouth. When he pulls away, he replaces his lips with his hand, forcing your mouth shut. 

“Swallow,” he commands. You obey without a second thought and let the substance slip down your throat. He smiles when he's sure you’re done and moves his hand, motioning for you to open up. You do, and he smirks as he sees every drop gone. 

“Good girl,” he mutters as he lays back down on top of you, and you let your body rest on the table again, enjoying the feel of his body on top of yours. As the two of you stay there, catching your breath, you feel Joel's chest start to vibrate against your back in silent laughter. You furrow your brows and attempt to stand and roll him off you, but only succeed in the latter, your legs failing as if they were made of jello. 

Joel stands back and tucks himself back into his jeans as you slump back down on the table, temporarily accepting defeat. You see him take a seat in the chair next to you out of the corner of your eye, his chest still rattling the slightest bit. 

“What the fuck do you find so funny, bastard?” You slur your words, your tone is a lot less fierce than you had wanted it to be. He looks at you before answering, and you feel your both heart and your cunt clench at the almost adoring look in his eyes as he meets your gaze. Maybe the asshole will try to be decent for a moment, his expression promising. 

“Looks like your gonna have t’ scrub this table again, princess,” he says, his tone toeing the line of playful. You feel your lips tug up into a smile as you recognize the fact that this is probably Joel being friendly. Or at the very least, he’s not at your throat at the moment—in a bad way anyway—so you’ll take it. Upon seeing your smile, he sits back further and allows himself a small smile of his own as he continues to watch you sink into the polished wood beneath you.

“Fuck you, Miller,” you say. You erupt into a quiet yet delirious fit of exhausted giggles, Joel following soon after with his own gentle chuckle. 

“Might have t’ give me a second for that, princess.”

*****

Pt. 2 here

[fellow-travelers-fic-recs]

Fellow Travelers Fic Recs | Author of the Month: July

captainquint | @jesterlesbian

Works in FT Fandom: 8

Most Recent:  I Wanna Be a Cowboy's Sweetheart [E, 3K] Hawk tipped his hat politely towards Tim, the way he always did when he rode back into town and stabled his horse at the Liberty Bell, where Tim worked as a stable hand. The pay wasn’t much, but it was steady work, and the off-chance of spotting Hawkins Fuller in leather chaps astride a horse sweetened the pot considerably.

Hawk flashed Tim the look that he understood meant “Meet me around the back,” so Tim dawdled for a few moments more, trying in vain to wipe off as much dirt and muck as he could from his shirt before oh-so-casually strolling to behind the stables, where it met the treeline and provided just the right amount of cover.

Longest Fic:  I Guess I've Got The Christmas Blues [E, 5K] Tim Laughlin stood in front of Hawk, one hand still raised as if to continue banging on the door, his tweed jacked dotted with snowflakes. Water droplets were trapped on his glasses, maybe from melted snow. But with how red-rimmed his eyes were, there might have been teardrops on his glasses as well.

Hawk’s slightly intoxicated reflexes took a moment to spring into action upon seeing Tim. “Skippy,” he grinned, "what, did you miss me that much? I’ll still be here after New Year’s."

Tim’s face screwed up in a look of righteous fury that Hawk knew meant an argument was coming. And before he could react, Tim was shoving Hawk backwards and into the apartment, slamming the door behind them.

“You absolute ass!”

Or, Tim confronts Hawk about his being investigated by the M Unit.

Top 3 Highest Rated Fics:  I Guess I've Got The Christmas Blues

Picturing You Kneeling In Prayer [M, 2K] It's the beginning of Lent in 1953.

“During Lent, we’re supposed to give up earthly pleasures so as to better reflect on Christ in the desert, and his overcoming Satan’s temptations. Speaking of which, you should probably be going.”

Tim slid away from Hawk’s grasp and moved to gather his hat and coat for him. He turned to find Hawk still seated on the bed, staring back at him with a slightly confused look on his face.

“People give up lots of things for Lent, things they consider indulgent or pleasurable. Booze, cigarettes, chocolate. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I gave up… you.”

we'll be on the road like Jack Kerouac [M, 4K] He tried to think of what Tim would do or say. The man who had only spoken to his son a handful of times over one weekend in 1968, but had seemed to understand him far better than Hawk ever had.

The business card felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket.

An idea burst to life in Hawk’s mind. This was an emergency if he’d ever seen one.

“What would you say to coming with me to San Francisco?”

Or, Hawk and Jackson go on a cross-country road trip to San Francisco.

Hidden Gem:  Only The Lucky Ones Come Home [M, 1K] It didn’t make sense. Kenny wasn’t in Italy, he wasn’t in Europe. He was sent somewhere in the Pacific, Hawk wasn’t quite sure. That was the last he had heard. So how could Kenneth Willard be bleeding out at his feet in Velletri?

“You did this.”

The blood in Hawk’s veins turned to ice at Kenny’s words.

Or, Hawk has a nightmare about his time in the war.

FTFR Fave:  All Tied Up With Nowhere To Go [E, 2K] “Are they too tight?” Hawk asked, tugging on Tim’s wrists.

Tim’s wrists were, at that moment, bound to the headboard of Hawkins Fuller’s bed by some carefully knotted neckties. Tim was struck by the thought of Hawk wearing one of these ties to work on a later day, becoming distracted in his office thinking of what they had done with them on this night. His mouth twitched up at the corner. “Hey, are you listening to me?” Hawk placed a hand under his chin and tilted Tim’s face towards Hawk’s own. “This is important. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tim rolled his wrists and wiggled his fingers to show they were fine. “I’m not made of glass, Hawk, you don’t have to treat me like I’ll break.”

Or, Hawk teases a tied-up Tim

Part 2 of FT Valentine's Day 2024 

Upcoming Work I’m Excited About: Tim in Lingerie Fic Snippet (Tim in Lingerie Fic):  He was pulled from his thoughts by the feeling of Hawk slowly removing his sheer stockings, caressing his calf and ankle on the way down. Hawk took one bare foot in his hand and smirked up at Tim with a raised eyebrow, as if to say, “Remember this?” before sucking a toe into his mouth. The wet heat hit him immediately, and Tim whined high in the back of his throat.

“Hawk, get back up here, I need you,” Tim groaned, already creeping toward overstimulation at the dual sensations of Hawk’s tongue along his foot and the slide of the lace against his skin. He had always been… excitable, and the last thing he wanted to do was spill too soon.

Hawk pulled off his toes with an obscene pop! and rose again before him, bringing a hand to the hard planes of Tim’s abdomen and scratching lightly, teasing.

“You’re always in such a rush, Skippy. It’s not your fault, you’re still young,” he chuckled, “but I think I’m going to take my time with you tonight.”

Thanks for reading!

✨ Please show the author lots of love with your kudos, comments and reblogs of this post!

[courtney-deserved-better]

seeing as it’s now been one year since the last chapter of slippery slopes was posted, i decided to make a big sappy post talking about what this fic has meant to me over the last two and a half years

i started writing slippery slopes after a bolt of inspiration struck me on this post. i’d tried writing my fair share of long fics prior, most of them remaining unpublished and all of them unfinished. i’m not quite sure what made me think i could write slippery slopes other than a strong desire to write the alenoah fic i wanted to read but that didn’t exist at the time. slippery slopes was the 30th fic posted in the alenoah tag, which didn’t have any finished long fics at the time. i think if you told 2021 pj that in two years there would be over 600 alenoah fics, many of them tdwt rewrites, their head would explode.

i honestly had no idea what i was jumping into when i started writing slippery slopes. looking back, i was very insecure about my writing. i’d actually forgotten about that until i was reading some posts i’d made while i was still writing it, where i wondered if i was going to be able to pull off the miscommunication plotline and the unplanned alecourtney friendship. almost every announcement of a chapter draft being completed included me saying i felt weird about it, or thought it was bad. i felt incredibly uncomfortable writing serious angst and when that started playing an important role in the fic at around chapter seven i feared that my writing was awful and other people would dislike it the way i had. i genuinely don’t think it hit me that slippery slopes was a popular fic until a few months before it became the most kudosed fic on ao3.

back then, i was able to understand why other people liked slippery slopes, but i couldn’t read it without cringing. i’m not sure when exactly the switch flipped—probably after i finally finished it and was able to distance myself from the writing process—but it became a fic that i’m incredibly proud of. i can reread it now and enjoy it without cringing in the slightest. i was able to see my writing as good, and well-crafted. i will always appreciate slippery slopes as a fic where i grew incredibly as a writer. i understand how to plan out long fics while still allowing for spontaneity. i can comfortably write angst. i feel strong in my choices for characterization and friendship even if it may seem unconventional. i have so much more confidence in my writing now, and a lot of that is thanks to you all.

other than desperately wanting an alenoah tdwt rewrite fic, a huge part of why i wrote slippery slopes was because i felt lonely in the td fandom and was hoping that this fic could connect me with more people out there. and boy oh boy it sure has. and not just the plethora of alenoah shippers—way more than i expected—but there were also people who didn’t ship alenoah, but still stayed for the story, and people who had never considered alenoah but gave my fic a chance and ended up shipping it anyway. when i didn’t believe my writing was good, there were many, many kind commenters who showed my fic love and encouraged me to keep going with it. and even now, there are commenters whose fresh excitement make me feel like all the time i spent on this fic was so, so worth it. and they all inspire me to keep writing. 

i may be a good writer, but i don’t think i can ever fully express what everyone’s support has done for me. i still struggle to wrap my mind around the fact that there are dozens of drawings of my fic that you all have made! that’s crazy! i am so, so lucky to have such wonderful readers, and i hope you all know how incredibly grateful i am. slippery slopes would not exist without you. this was a joint effort. it’s amazing to me how a spontaneously started fic for a crackship ended up changing the total drama fandom landscape the way it did. who would’ve guessed that a simple whim to write an alenoah fic could become quite the slippery slope.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

How special is reader actually in Just Friends? im dying i’m so jealous 😭

Welll my dear!

König in this fic is a bit of a nympho. There's just no denying it. This man gets high on killing and he gets high on sex...

...which is why he hasn't been exactly what one would call a chaste, proper gentleman, and why he has some experience. Because even with that crazy pervy attitude there's always people who want to bang this giant (not side-eyeing anyone here in this room or myself in the mirror or anything like that).

So yes, this man has tried to get pussy since day one, and because he is what he is, hasn't gotten but a crumb or two (just imagine the growing fury and bitterness of this man, who looks like a god but is a demon inside, when he doesn't get what he needs 🙄). This poor lunatic has done his all to get anything he can ‐ which is close to nothing but just enough to bless him with the knowledge of the location of clitoris. Now this sounds pretty desperate, right? It is. I mean, this guy probably has a sex toy or two in his room (probably takes a portable fleshlight on longer missions too, JFC) because he's just never satisfied and women generally avoid him like the plague.

But when it comes to reader... Let's start by saying that König has never stalked anyone like that (lmao what a compliment!). Also he is true to his word in that he has never stolen another lady's underwear before. He's just that crazy about the reader. He tries his all to be more civil so he doesn't blow it with her, while at the same time, he's losing his fucking mind (so innocent and sweet and looking at him and his pretty knives like that?? He simply can't handle that shit).

Also the inherent and learned sexism in this man makes him think women shouldn't go to war because it's not *proper* and he would never even think of gifting a weapon to a lady, let alone one of his precious knives. Even showing his collection is too much – it's equal to baring his soul to someone.

But reader? She gets multiple invites to his crazy man cave full of weapons. Also, taking her to the range, letting her play with his big guns is not only a super special treat but also a sign of König being head.over.heels. for her.

Without knowing it, König has always searched for that special someone to be crazy with. And reader is the first to elicit any real feelings in him, tbh. That's a huge deal. Like he said in the end, he would do anything for her. Also instead of a fleshlight he now carries reader's panties in his pocket on missions. Calls them his lucky charm, too.

And sex with reader gains almost a spiritual level as we see at the end of chapter 4. It's not just sex anymore. Aftercare and cuddles are something this man has pretty much avoided, has been a bit 'meh' about, but with reader it all comes naturally because he wants to take care of her. He can't keep his paws off because she's so adorable and squishable.

And the reason why he tried to leave reader alone after days of trying to woo her back? Not because he dropped her like a toy that's not working anymore, but because he actually respected and loved her so much he didn't want to hurt her. (Also I'm staying with my hc that König is someone who tells a person he loves them after they've known each other for like two weeks. Cringe, but cute.)

I don't know if this cured any jealousy or made it worse 🥲 but trust me when I say reader is incredibly special 💘

[arc852]

6. Grit

Definition: courage and determination despite difficulty

Summary: Grian is sick. Very sick. He has already accepted that he isn't going to make it. But Gem can't. She has to do something. Even if that something is doing the one thing borrowers aren't supposed to do.

G/t: Impulse and Skizz are normal-sized, Grian and Gem are borrowers

Warnings: Sickness, accepting death (no death happens), and fear

Word Count: 3002

AO3 Link

This is a good one! I actually really like how this one came out and am excited I can finally post it. I love first meeting fics and honestly, I think Gem makes for a great borrower. I had a lot of fun writing this one.

So much fun, in fact, that this is just part one! I wrote a part two right after I wrote this that will come out on day 12! So I hope you guys enjoy!

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

 “I brought you some water.” Gem said as she entered the room, holding a cap full of water. She was careful as she walked, not wanting to spill any. She kneeled down by the makeshift bed, which was really just a nest of whatever comfortable fabric they could borrow, and gently held out the water.

 Grian tried to grab it himself but Gem stopped him. “Hey, no, you need to save your strength.” She reprimanded him. Grian sighed but allowed Gem to lift the cap to his lips as he took generous gulps of the water. It felt good against his sore throat but the relief only lasted as long as the water.

 Gem took back the cap when Grian was done and placed it on the floor next to her. She then felt his forehead with her hand and bit her lip when she felt how hot it was. “You’re still burning up…” Grian had been burning up for days now, with no sign of getting better. “How is your throat?” She asked.

 Grian opened his mouth to speak but let out a harsh sounding cough instead that made Gem wince. “You don’t have to answer.” She said and it was probably best that he didn’t. “I can tell it also hasn’t gotten any better.” Grian nodded and Gem couldn’t mask her concern. 

 “I don’t know what’s wrong.” She said, blinking back tears. “It’s been days and you’ve just gotten worse.” Grian reached for her hand and gripped it loosely, unable to use more strength than that. He gave a small smile to Gem. She tried to return it but it was hard with how much worry she felt.

 Gem didn’t want to think about it but usually, when a borrower was this sick they… There was no getting better. Borrowers didn’t have things the humans did. They didn’t have medicine or doctors. Sometimes, if a borrower was lucky, they were able to get a good supply of medicine. But even then, it was hard to figure out how much to give to themselves or even which ones to use for what.

 Gem and Grian didn’t even have the luck of being able to access medicine. The humans they lived with kept them behind the mirror in their bathroom, a place Gem and Grian couldn’t get to.

 The grip around her hand left and she focused back on Grian, who was looking at her sadly. He had realized too, probably way before she had. And it looked like Grian was resigned to his fate. Gem took in a shaky breath and wiped away her tears. “You better get some rest.” She said, grabbing one of the fabrics and using it to cover him up.

 Grian sighed and shifted under the blankets, getting more comfortable. Gem watched as he closed his eyes, his breathing evening out as he fell asleep.

 Gem exited the room and stood there just outside of it, wondering what she should do. Grian may have resigned himself to letting the sickness win but Gem sure wasn’t. She needed a plan, she not only needed a way to get medicine but she needed to figure out what kind she needed in order to make Grian better.

 She couldn’t do it on her own though. And no borrower would be able to help her.

 There was another option though.

 A very risky, very foolish option. Grian himself would be against it if he knew Gem was even thinking about it. But Gem was desperate. She didn’t want to lose Grian, he was like a brother to her. They had been together for so long, they were all each other had. She refused to not do something if it meant saving Grian.

 Even if that something meant revealing herself, and her kind, to the humans.

 She took one last glance back toward Grian, who was still sleeping peacefully, before heading toward the exit. She grabbed her borrowing bag on the way out and walked through the walls until she made it to the exit they had carved out that led into the living room.

 Taking a breath and gripping her bag tight, she exited the walls and found herself underneath the living room couch. She could hear the TV playing low and voices from right above her talking. The humans were right there and Gem was about to reveal herself to them.

 She reminded herself that this was for Grian and gained the strength to continue forward. She paused when she got closer, wondering how she was going to do this. She glanced around until her eyes honed in on the coffee table not too far away from the couch. She could climb that and get their attention easily. But she would also be trapped with nowhere to run.

 Well, as long as Gem could get medicine back to Grian one way or another, it didn’t matter. She was even prepared to work out a deal, of giving herself to the humans in exchange if it came to that. So, she steeled herself and left the cover of the couch.

 She very quickly ducked under the coffee table and looked up behind her. From this angle she could just make out the two humans sitting on the couch. They seemed to barely be paying attention to the TV, instead talking to each other. Gem didn’t bother with what they were saying though. She would be interrupting them in just a moment after all.

 She went to the other side of the coffee table, the side facing away from the humans, in order for it to be less likely that she would be seen as she was climbing up. The last thing she wanted was to be grabbed mid-climb.

 She unfurled her hook and threw it so it landed on the edge of the table. She tested the rope and then took off climbing it.

 When she was close to the top, she paused. Once she pulled herself up the rest of the way, it was very likely she would be seen. This was it. Her last chance to turn back.

 But she couldn’t. What she was doing was bad. But letting Grian die would be worse. She took some deep breaths to try and calm her heart. And then she hoisted herself up onto the table before she could hesitate again. 

 Just as she thought, as soon as she pulled herself up, the conversation that had been going on in the background stopped.

 “Dude…Are you seeing this?” One of them said, voice sounding shocked and in awe.

 “I-I am.” The other stuttered out an answer, sounding just as shocked as the first one.

 Gem finally lifted her head and met the gaze of the two humans, tensing at the stares she was receiving. This was one of her worst fears come to life. Not one, but two humans staring down at her, seen and all but caught.

 But her real worst fear, she had come to realize, was losing Grian. And so she would face this fear for him.

 Neither of the humans had moved yet, which was good. It gave Gem the courage to step forward, putting herself even closer to the humans. She bit her lip and decided to get straight to the point. “I…I need your help.” She stuttered a bit but thankfully her voice evened out on the second part. She tried to stand as tall as she could, wanting to show as little weakness as possible.

 The humans' eyes widened even more after hearing her talk and they leaned forward, almost causing Gem to step back a bit. But she was able to catch herself and stand firm. When they registered what she actually said, their faces turned to concern. “Help? What’s wrong?” The one with the scars across his face and arms said. Gem knew she had heard their names before. She tried to think. The one who just spoke was…Skizz. And his friend and roommate was Impulse. 

 Yeah, that sounded right.

 Oh yeah, she needed to answer.

 “My friend. He’s-He’s been sick for a few days now and he’s only getting worse. We need medicine or else he…” She trailed off, unable to say the words but knowing they would understood all the same.

 “Medicine…uh, yeah, yeah, we can do that.” Impulse said, looking back and forth between her and Skizz. Skizz was the one who stood up, and the suddenness of it caused Gem to scurry back multiple steps. So much for not showing her fear. She noticed Skizz looking guilty, which only confused her.

 “Hey, you don’t gotta worry. We aren’t going to hurt you.” Skizz said, keeping his voice low and soft. “I’ll go get the medicine.” He said and then left the room, leaving Gem alone with Impulse.

 Gem wasn’t really sure what to think of Skizz’s words. He could be lying but at the same time…they agreed to help really fast. Gem couldn’t help but think, no, hope that they really were telling the truth.

 Impulse cleared his throat, gaining Gem’s attention from where she had watched Skizz leave. Impulse stayed where he was and gave her a small smile. Probably trying to put her at ease as much as possible. “I’m Impulse, by the way.” Impulse said. “And the other guy is Skizz.” Gem was glad she seemed to have gotten their names right at least.

 Impulse looked at her a bit expectantly and Gem realized he probably wanted her name as well. “Oh, I’m Gem.” She said, her voice quiet but free of any shakiness. Impulse grinned.

 “Well, it’s nice to meet you Gem.” He paused for a moment. “Uh, if you don’t mind me asking…what are you?”

 There it was. Gem had been expecting that question sooner or later. Honestly, she was surprised Impulse asked for her name first. She bit her lip. Everything in her told her to keep her mouth shut but, well, she was already this far. Telling them more wouldn’t really change anything at this point. “I’m a borrower.” In that instance, Skizz had come back in, looking at Gem curiously as she continued to talk. “I live in the walls and borrow things I need to survive. Like food.” She tried her best to explain. “My friend, Grian, lives here with me. He’s the reason I’m here now.”

 “Wait, you live in the walls? As in, our walls?” Skizz asked as he sat back down and set down a handful of bottles. Gem assumed they held the medicine.

 Gem bit her lip, a bit nervous of what they would think of that. “Yeah. We’ve lived here for about…two years now I think?”

 Impulse blinked. “Wait, that long? Why have we never seen you guys then?”

 Gem sighed. “We aren’t supposed to reveal ourselves to humans.” She said, looking away from the said humans she had revealed herself to. “It’s for our own safety. Who knows what humans would do to us if they found out we existed.” She found it was easier to talk to them if she forgot they were humans themselves for a moment.

 “Then…” Impulse said after a moment. “For you to reveal yourself to us like this…your friend must be really really sick.”

 Gem nodded, tears coming to her eyes at the reminder but she refused to let them fall. “Yeah. Like I said, he’s only been getting worse and worse. And for borrowers like us, that usually means he won’t get better.” She shook her head. “He’s already resigned to it but I couldn’t accept that. So I…I risked everything to come out here and hope you two would help me.”

 “Of course we’ll help.” Skizz said, eyes soft. Gem finally met his eyes and for the first time didn’t feel like tensing up. “Here I brought everything we had. Can you explain what exactly Grian’s symptoms are?”

 Gem nodded. “He’s got a really bad fever and a really sore throat. Those are the main two. He’s also clammy and goes back and forth between being too hot or too cold. He can barely move and has just been in bed for the last few days.” Gem explained, trying to remember everything.

 Skizz nodded along and rummaged through all the pill bottles. “I think…yeah, this should work.” He set one down off to the side and then picked up another, reading it. “And this one should help with the sore throat.” He placed another on the side and then moved all the other pill bottles away to focus on the two.

 Gem hesitated for a moment before walking closer. She still made sure to stay far away from their hands though. “Okay…and how much do I give him?” She asked, needing to know that as well. Unfortunately, Skizz looked lost.

 “Um…good question. Guess he can’t exactly take a full pill.” He turned to Impulse. “Any ideas Dippledop?”

 “Hold on, let me see if I can figure it out.” Impulse said as he got out his phone. He tapped on the phone and Gem waited patiently, hoping he would be able to find something. He looked up to look Gem over. “You would say Grian is about your height?” Gem blinked but nodded. Impulse hummed and typed something else out.

 “Okay, I think I got it.” Impulse said and this time he stood up. “Be right back, I gotta grab something.” Impulse walked away, toward where Gem knew the kitchen to be. Once again, she was alone with just one of the humans.

 “I’m Gem, by the way.” Gem introduced herself, knowing Skizz had been gone when she had told Impulse her name. 

 Skizz’s eyes widened, not having expected that. But he smiled all the same. “Oh! Uh, nice to meet you! I’m sure Impulse already told you my name, but I’m Skizz.”

 Gem nodded and felt herself relaxing the longer she was there. Not once had they tried to grab her or show any malicious intent. They really did seem like they just wanted to help her help Grian.

 Impulse came back, holding a knife and some sort of flat device. Gem flinched a bit at the knife but held her ground, knowing it probably wasn’t for her based on how things had been going. Impulse sat back down and placed the device on the table but kept the knife in his hand. “Want to hand me a pill?” Impulse asked Skizz and Skizz, in turn, nodded and opened the bottle, handing Impulse one pill.

 Impulse took it and the knife and shed the tiniest bit off and onto the device. He looked at the small screen. “Wow, even that’s too much.” He said, more to himself. He cut the already microscopic piece in half, scooting it off and into his hand before looking back at the screen. “There we go, that should work.” His eyes lifted up to find Gem’s and he smiled gently. “Want to come over here and take it?” Impulse asked.

 Gem swallowed nervously but nodded and walked closer, keeping a wary eye on all the hands. They stayed still though and Gem reached the device. She grabbed it, the piece only taking up the very center of her palm. She looked at it and then up at Impulse. “And this won’t be too much?”

 “Shouldn’t be. And here, I’ll do the other one for you.” Impulse said and Gem backed away as Skizz handed Impulse the other pill for him to cut. Gem came back as Impulse finished and took the other cut pill. She then reached into her bag and took out some tin foil that had been shaped into a cup. She dropped the tiny pieces of pill into it and folded the top over as a lid. She then carefully placed it back in her bag, safe and ready to give to Grian.

 She glanced up at the two humans with a grateful smile. “Thank you so much for helping me.”

 Impulse and Skizz nodded, returning her smile. “Of course! Anything you need, you can always come back and ask.” Skizz said, putting the offer out.

 Gem hesitated but nodded. “Thank you.” She would have to think about taking them up on that offer. She really shouldn’t but she couldn’t deny how much they had helped her. And how much they had proven they weren’t like the malicious humans she had heard stories about.

 “I do have a request though.” Impulse said, which made Gem tense. Impulse noticed this and put his hands up to try and calm her down. “It’s nothing bad, uh, I hope, but it might be best if, after you give Grian the medicine and he gets a bit better, that you bring him out here to us so we can check on him.”

 “Oh yeah!” Skizz said, agreeing with Impulse. “We just want to make sure he makes a full recovery.”

 Well, Gem couldn’t really argue with that. She wanted the same thing, after all. The main thing would be getting Grian to agree in the first place but…she was sure she could convince him.

 And if not that, she could definitely trick him. Just a little bit. Just for his own good.

 She nodded. “Okay. I’ll try to do that.” She agreed and Impulse and Skizz gave her another smile. She returned it. “I better get back. I need to give this medicine to Grian as soon as possible.”

 The humans nodded. “Of course. We’ll see you soon.” Impulse said and she nodded and waved back before using her hook to climb back down to the ground.

 She made her way back underneath the couch and back into the walls with no problem and it only hardened her resolve that Impulse and Skizz were worth trusting. She just needed to convince Grian of that.

 But that would be another time. Right now, she needed to get back to him and give him this medicine.

 She gripped her bag tight and walked faster.

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

ive been a fan of ATLA since it came out, and I think I stopped reading fic for it once Korra came out. So (luckily?), I escaped Embers, but im curious to know what is its influence in fanon. Do you know any examples off the top of your head?

Whoa, that's impressive that you managed to skip it if you've been a fan that long. It started in 2009.

And yeah, I do. Admittedly I do not read ATLA fic often these days, so I'm probably behind on current trends. But if you know what you're looking at it's pretty obvious that lots of Zuko-focused fic is influenced by Embers. Granted, oftentimes the writer may not realize they were influenced by Embers--they may have been inspired by a fic that was inspired by a fic that was inspired by Embers. The fic is 14 years old, and the rabbithole runs deep.

So the effects Embers has had, off the top of my head:

The Wani. Zuko's ship does not have a canonical name, but so many writers have used Vathara's name for it that people are surprised when they learn it's not canon. Even I'm guilty of this one, it's such deeply-entrenched fanon that I figured I might as well use it in a throwaway line (tho I'm seriously considering going in and editing it out of the one fic I mentioned it in).

Dragon!Zuko. If Zuko or Fire Nation people are turning into dragons, that idea probably came from Embers; I don't recall ever seeing that trope in ATLA fic before Embers made it a thing.

Certain Aang-critical readings of canon. There are multiple ways people criticize Aang (fans have complained about him not killing Ozai since the finale aired, and shippers have their own gripes), but there are certain arguments that either originated with Embers or were popularized by it. The concept of "Aang told Zuko he'd come with him if he left the SWT alone, then Aang escaped, therefore he broke his word and lied and he's lucky Zuko is such a good person that he didn't turn around and burn the village to the ground because he totally would've been within his rights to do so" is an Embers original. Then there's the "Aang has totally killed people and is therefore a hypocrite and/or idiot who doesn't realize he kills people" criticism, which may have existed before Embers brought it up, but Embers definitely popularized it. (Canonically Aang has done things that would definitely result in people dying, but also canonically we never saw the bodies so the narrative didn't confirm or even acknowledge it, therefore there's plenty of room to interpret Aang's kill count and still be canon-compliant. I'll admit this is a pedantic argument if everyone else admits that some fans are overeager to give Aang a kill count and call him an idiotic mass murderer, especially when they point at the Siege of the North, where the only people he would've killed were enemy combatants). And apparently now there are stories where Zuko is very knowledgeable about Air Nomad culture and teaches Aang about it, or preaches to him about patience or maturity or morality--I reblogged a post about this recently. That entire mentality definitely came from Embers.

Hyper-competent Zuko. This is not solely Embers's doing, but let me explain. Zuko is the fandom's favorite, we love him, he ticks off a lot of boxes people love to see in a character. It is perfectly normal for a fandom to heap all sorts of awesomeness on their fave, and in fanon they become a super-competent badass who puts up with so much and fights so hard despite the odds, they are knowledgeable and intelligent and strategic, they are confident and compassionate and have iron-clad morals. (am I still describing Zuko or Obi-Wan Kenobi? lol) So this version of Zuko probably would've become a thing eventually; Embers was just the starting point. But things have to start somewhere, and in this case, it started with Embers showing off just how to make Zuko a hyper-competent badass. And Zuko is indeed a badass, but canon gave no indication that he'd actually be good at, like, politics, aside from the narrative implying it by saying he was the best person to become Fire Lord. There are takes on Zuko where he's politically astute, spiritually attuned, brilliantly strategic, extremely knowledgeable about all sorts of random things--none of which have much basis in canon, but they aren't necessarily contradicted by canon either. And again, this is just regular fandom behavior--but in the ATLA fandom these takes were sparked by Embers basically laying the foundation and creating the template for how to write Zuko.

Well-researched fic. Like the previous point, this is not solely Embers's doing. Researching stuff for fanfic has been a thing since forever. But Embers was huge, and Vathara talked a lot about the things she knew and the books she'd read, and people were very impressed and praised her for it, and it inspired them to do and show their own research for their fics, too. Unlike the other things on this list, this actually isn't something that annoys me--even I was inspired by this aspect of Embers, in conjunction with the racebending movement and cultural misappropriation criticism, to make research an important part of my own fic. I'd looked up information for my writing before, but Embers really showed how research could make a fic incredible. And frankly, I'm glad for it, because looking up stuff for my fics has proven to be a fun and rewarding pastime, and I love sharing my research with my own readers (tho I really hope my own author's notes aren't as condescending as Vathara's). Now, granted, given some of the opinions in her author's notes and things she's said elsewhere, I consider all of Vathara's information and reading recommendations to be suspect. But I'm glad it's inspired other people to do lots of great research and share it.

And that's all I can think of, off the top of my head. I'm sure there's more, but I haven't read Embers in years, and I don't read much ATLA fic in general these days, so if there's more I'm unaware. If anyone else can think of anything, please do chime in!

[chrysoula]

Imaginary Aventurine

Let's imagine: (theory, fic idea, headcanon: the triple goddess)

Aventurine is lucky. Aventurine is really lucky. Aventurine is supernaturally lucky. Quite possibly, that Cornerstone is not as powerful as the luck blessing he has. Or perhaps it's a gift from an Aeon? Or maybe just the legacy of a dead one. Now... let's see. Ena the Order's third eye is very similar to his. And boy, have they been Making Sure We Know About Ena via Simulated Universe and likewise, they've been making a surprisingly big deal about a supposedly non-existent mother goddess worshipped by a nearly extinct people. Hey, you know what I heard? Xipe the Harmony ate Ena the Order. And now, quite possibly, her last chosen (??) has waltzed into a place where the Family is hiding something a lot bigger than a few violent crimes, a place on the far shore of a dark sea... I wonder what he'll find? I wonder if his Gaiatha Triclops will be relevant as more than a personal backstory before the end...? Ok, probably not. That's why this imaginary! But man, I want to use this idea in a fic. So much. I was also thinking about his 'luck' and wondering if he's actually lucky in general, or if it's always related to preserving his life. But I remember his phone status, in which he offers to roll on the gacha for others. So... probably lucky in general. Still, it's not that hard to make 'luck' align with 'order'. ("align, heh heh"). His luck is a series of events that all happen to line up, in order, to get him places others might consider impossible... Finally, let me just coo over him a tiny bit: God, Aventurine, baby. You are so sweetly, deeply fucked up. You have so many layers you're a crepe cake. Give away your cash. Give away your luck. But you can't give away that survivor's guilt and the awareness that all your luck does is save you, and you're not at all what your family believed you to be. But you've worked out how to make your luck useful for others. All you have to do is bet your life. It's the only thing you really have, right? Do you deserve any more? And you've done this before, my lad. You don't make deals you can lose because you don't consider sacrificing your life to be losing. You've always got some other victory condition, right? You put on pretty clothes and flash those pretty eyes, but underneath you're a scrawny, strung-out adrenaline junkie who knows exactly how to manipulate himself to do what needs to be done. A bonus: The softest headcanon: When Jade said the Stonehearts would give him everything he wanted, and what he didn't want too, what Jade meant was a new family.

[kit-kat-katie]

At dusk, the nightmares and monsters start to play

A/N: two fics (barely) in a month??? haven't done this since September (god it's been a long three months, thank you all for bearing with me through the end of the year). hope everyone has had a good holiday season and is looking forward to the new year! (there's gonna be more action in the next part, this is the set up dw 🫶)

as a future heads-up, most of the chapters will be smaller in size so I can have the time to complete one a month while I'm working on school work. I'm aiming for 1.5-2k words a chapter, but there may be more depending on what I have due at that time.

TW: medical trauma, trauma in general, sad vibes, reader has a knee injury

Pairing: Finnick x GN! Reader (romantic)

Summary: You pay Katniss a visit in the infirmary, only to find that she's more remorseful than revenge-filled, which is a good sign for your other knee. Afterwards, you seek your room and find a comforting memory there, along with Finnick.

(<- Previous Part | Next Part -> | Series Masterlist)

Nightmares.

That was something you had grown to live with, as a victor of the Hunger Games. Your mentors had your back when it came to the nightmares, at first - all you saw when you went to sleep were the dead tributes that you had killed or seen killed. Why were you the one to live, out of all of them?

You were hesitate to approach Katniss after she had a bad nightmare and ran off - she was probably one of the last people that wanted to see you. The last time she saw you, she put an arrow into your knee that gave you the cane and limp that you’re known for in District 13.

Although you tried to tell Haymitch it wasn’t a good idea, he insisted.

“What harm could it cause you to see her?” Haymitch asks before his eyes land on your cane. “…that doesn’t count, Sunny.”

“You’re lucky I still like both of you after that happened.” You vaguely gesture to your knee before grabbing your cane and standing up. “I’ll go find her when she needs me.”

You were sure that Katniss didn’t trust you, but you were positive that she trusted the nurses around you even less. You couldn’t blame her - you were the exact same way. President Snow had insisted that his victors were in the best shape possible, so you had to go to routine doctor’s visits. The prodding and poking was enough to drive anyone nuts, but the vague memory of needles and surgeries sends a shudder down your back as you quicken your pace.

It’s better if she kills me than some poor nurse or doctor.

~

Once you approach the hospital ward, you slowly make your way to Katniss’s room. You peak inside her room to see her sitting up in bed with a younger girl brushing her hair.

You lightly knock, as to not startle the two girls, before making your way into the room.

“Sorry about your knee.” Katniss grumbles as you collapse into a nearby chair and let out an exhausted sigh.

“It’s okay. I probably would’ve done a lot worse in your scenario.” You shrug before leaning your cane against the hospital bed.

“It’s not okay-“ She tries to argue, but you aren’t having any of it.

“What’s done is done, and I have to live with the consequences. You should save your care for a much more worthy cause.” You see her fidgeting with the pearl that Peeta gave her. “We’ll get him back, I promise.”

“They won’t want to.”

“Does it matter what they want? You have more power than you think, Katniss.” The girl behind Katniss starts to look familiar as your eyes glance between the two girls. “You’re Primrose Everdeen, right?”

The girl doesn’t say anything until Katniss lightly bumps her shoulder.

“I am.” She quietly answers while continuing to brush Katniss’s hair.

The three of you linger in the room with contemplative silence before a man comes to bring Katniss to President Coin and Plutarch.

Primrose sets the hairbrush aside as you fetch your cane from the side of the bed.

“Those are nurse scrubs, right?” You ask as you grab the bed’s railing in order to get onto your feet.

“I’m trying to help out, as much as I can.” She answers before starting to make the hospital bed.

“If you’re anything like your sister, you’ll be a great nurse.” You offer her a warm smile that she quickly replicates.

Perhaps the future isn’t as messed up as I thought it was.

~

You return to the living quarters side of District 13, only to be bombarded by a few small children. The younger kids always ran up to you when they hear the click click click of your cane hitting the floor, as you often had squirreled away treats or extra bits of food from meals. You were willing to share, so you offered them a few small candies that you had snatched from the front desk of the hospital ward.

“Don’t give yourselves a stomach ache,” You warn them with a wagging finger, “otherwise, you’ll end up back there.”

The kids promise to be careful before running off, and you continue your journey back to your room. You had been discharged from the hospital ward, after your strong insistence that you were fine, which you were, but you had to have daily check-ups to make sure that your knee was alright.

You had the appointments in the morning - it wasn’t like you were getting any sleep, anyways - but your progress continued to be positive. You weren’t going to be in fighting shape for a long time, and you might limp for the rest of your life, but the cane may get to be retired in another week or two.

Your bed can’t be found soon enough, and when you do find it, you set your cane on the ground before laying down on the bed. 

You had given so much effort into your capital duties - being a “model citizen”, doing exactly as President Snow asked - but you had never been as tired as you were now. The simple act of movement left you exhausted, the injury be damned, and all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep.

You couldn’t. Although you weren’t physically strong, your determination to keep going kept you mentally well. You had to be strong, you had to be sunny, for the District 12 children, for Katniss, and for Finnick.

Finnick had a rough adjustment to life in District 13, due to the absence of Mags and Annie as well as your injury. Despite being drugged up, once he heard that you were going under for surgery, he knocked out two guards and nearly stabbed a third with a pair of scissors before Haymitch pulled him off of the guard. Finnick had stayed by your side for days after he had been discharged and you were recovering. 

He didn’t leave your side after you were discharged from the hospital wing. He was the one who helped you back onto your feet and he encouraged you to keep going, even when you felt like giving up. 

Finnick was quiet when you weren’t around, however. He would lock himself in his room for hours, only coming out to talk with Haymitch or to get the next meal. He was never like that with you - his smile was never so bright as he carefully embraced you. The two of you would talk for hours about anything and everything - it reminded you of your days back in the Victor’s Village in District 4.

Cooking for four was a learned habit of yours - you didn’t want Mags to have to cook or eat alone, Annie struggled to take care of herself, and Finnick was so busy that he didn’t often have the time to have good meals. 

You quickly distributed the food into four different containers. Two went straight into your refrigerator - Finnick would be home late on a flight from the Capitol, so you wanted to have dinner with him. You sealed up the other two meals, placed them into a small satchel, and began your trip to Mags’ house.

She warmly welcomed you in before putting a kettle on. You handed her the meal, which she took with a gracious smile. Mags grabbed two forks out of her silverware drawer, and you took one of them before joining her in the dining room.

You couldn’t stay long, as you had another meal to deliver, but you did enjoy a nice glass of tea and a few bites of food. With Mags waving you off, you ventured across the way to Annie’s home.

You softly knock on the door, as to not startle her, before the door slams open. Annie appears while rapidly wiping the tears off of her face. She tries to speak, but you shake her head before handing her the food.

“Don’t worry about getting the container back, I have plenty.” You gently reassure her as she nods before shakily closing the door.

With a soft breath, you go back to your own house to enjoy a bit of well-earned peace and quiet. A couple hours go by before someone knocks on your door.

You open the door, only to see Finnick standing there, all dressed up in Capital wear. Despite everything he’s wearing, he still is your charming, very attractive mentor.

“Are you in the mood for company?” He asks with an irresistible smile.

“You’re lucky I made extras, pretty boy.” You tease before letting him in.

“Sunny?”

You sit up at the sound of his voice, albeit slowly so you don’t injury yourself.

“Finnick!” You break out of your thoughts to greet him as you gesture for him to sit next to you on your bed.

“Are you alright?” His eyebrows scrunch as he inspects you for injuries before gently sitting next to you.

His hand finds yours, and your fingers intertwine as you softly kiss his cheek.

“I’m good, I promise. Haymitch wanted me to see Katniss in the hospital ward.”

“She didn’t have a bow and arrow this time, right?” A teasing smile rests on his face as you lightly shove him away.

“Very funny, Finnick.” You roll your eyes before looking over at him. “How are you doing?”

“Better now that I’m with you, honey.” He leans in to kiss you, and you indulge him in one kiss before locking eyes with him.

He lies to you about how he feels at times. You know it’s because he doesn’t want you to worry, but you end up worrying more because of it. This time, you only see merriment and a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he looks at you.

That’s Finnick being Finnick.

“Isn’t it almost meal time?” You ask before grabbing your cane.

“It’s getting close, but we should get going if we want to make it there on time.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” You poke Finnick with the bottom of your cane as he happily laughs.

You rest your head on his shoulder as you enjoy this moment of tranquility and happiness. You don’t know what tomorrow’s going to look like, but you can only hope that it’ll be just as good, if not better, than today.

tagging ->  @yokolesbianism , @avoxrising, @honethatty12, @sweetybuzz25, @catvader101, @sollum, @emerald-valkyrie, @randomgurl2326, @caitsymichelle13, @bcbci, @iris1587 (send a request or comment on this fic to be added to the taglist!)