#made this to make up for the trauma of the last installment | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writefightandflightclub · 1 year

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The light is blinding (Joel Miller x fem!reader)

Summary: When he's hurt, you offer to wash Joel's hair for him. Turns out there may be other forms of comfort you can offer him too.

Genres: character study; angst (sorta); hurt/comfort; SMUT. Joel's POV.

Author's note: I watched TLOU ep 1 last night, then made bad choices today in favour of hyperfocussing on this 8k Joel fic. I mean, this was sort of inevitable tbf. We've been handed a sad, scruffy, brown-eyed, dusty apocalypse DILF, and there was no chance of me not adopting him as a blorbo. Anyway, this is my first attempt at Joel, I wrote this in a trance so god knows what it says and I haven't spent any time on editing/correcting. Can't promise it's any good, but if you want to wash his hair as much as I do (lol) maybe you'll enjoy it, who knows. P.s. I promise it does get super smutty. You just have to survive the extensive internal monologue and many rounds of haircare first. (I'm just like that :P)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Minors interacting will be blocked. EXPLICIT SMUT (unprotected p in v sex, totally ignoring practicalities like birth control in the apocalypse bc we can); canon-typical themes such as grief, apocalypse, infection/disease, trauma, injury. SPOILERS - if you know the core plot points or have seen episode one you'll be okay. Joel's POV.

Word count: 8.2k

GIF by @joelmjller (Pls lemme know if you'd like me to remove this!)

How did he get here, exactly? All stretched out on his back, your careful fingers twining through his wetted, grizzled hair?

Well, he supposes he got here because a smuggling deal had gone sideways - like usual.

He got here, because he’s getting too old for this shit, and because someone precisely young enough for this shit had garnered the advantage just long enough to land a gun barrel blow to his head. A blow which then made room for all manner of nonsense, of course; like Joel being teep kicked into a desk. The desk - owing to its sturdy construction and deliciously planed hardwood - had withstood the blow. Joel’s body, however -far less sturdily constructed - had reacted far less favourably to that particular transaction.

Most of all though, cracked ribs and busted shoulder aside, Joel is here, because of you. He is here, because you offered to wash his hair.

Joel isn’t a clean man, by any stretch. Who could be anymore, with the way things are? In truth, he’s forgotten what it’s like not to be coated with a layer of dirt and smoke and ash. But apparently, even in the midst of an apocalypse, the dried-in, caked-up, days old blood matting his hair had left something to be desired.

He’d agreed to your offer only because - honestly - it was starting to itch. Because this time he truly couldn’t do it himself, the searing pain in his ribs seeing to that. Making sure he couldn’t quite raise his arm high enough or dip his head low enough to get the job done.

He’d agreed to your offer, in part, because he thought you would be quick. And - he now realises - you are being anything but.

You have him stretched out on his back, on a repurposed dentist chair. The worn, dark green leather creaks beneath him as he adjusts, positioning himself just so. You’ve installed a makeshift neck rest and basin to the rear of the chair, and Joel’s head is currently dipped backwards into the warm water, your fingers diligently combing through the strands to release the debris and muck.

You use a cup to cascade the water from the basin over his head, cupping it with the other hand to guard his face and neck from any rogue rivulets. Then, you ease your fingertips over his scalp, massaging in circles, being extra careful -he notes- around his recently closed wound.

Yes, to Joel’s dismay, you are taking your time. You are being so thorough and so attentive, in fact, that Joel even wonders if you will end up washing the gray right out of his hair - Joel’d never been wholly convinced that his newly-developed colouring was ever anything more than a thick, impenetrable layer of dirt and ash.

You hum thoughtfully, a sweet, innocuous note as you assess your next step. “I’m switching out the water, okay?”

That doesn’t sound okay at all. That doesn’t sound done. And Joel had thought that this would be quick. Had needed this to be quick.

Before he can grunt an answer though, you are winding a towel around his hair, presumably attempting to save the drips from reaching the floor as you swap out one basin for another, setting down the one now filled with muddy brown water, and bending carefully to lift a second steaming basin of fresh water on to your makeshift plinth.

He needs to stop this here. “That’ll do,” he says gruffly, motioning to sit up -carefully- despite the pain in his ribs.

“Lie back,” you insist, the sound of your voice muffled through the towel wound over his ears but soothing nevertheless. “I’ve only managed to rinse out the blood and bird’s nests so far. We still need to wash and condition.”

Joel would protest more vigorously -means to, in fact- but the soft smile on your face dissolves him like sugar before he can do so.

He frowns though, for good measure. “Fine. Just make it quick.”

“The quicker you relax Joel,” you sing song, “the faster I’ll let you out of my seat. Deal?”

He grunts. He doesn’t relax. He can’t relax.

“And,” you add playfully, as if reading his mind. “If you can’t relax, you’d better learn fast to fake it.”

Joel sighs deeply in frustration as he lies back, and you usher him gently into position. However, the slow, deep breath he expels does genuinely serve to sink him more deeply into the chair. Does force him to release just a jot of the tension snaking through his taut muscles.

You hum again, softly, in satisfaction, and he thinks he can even hear a smile on your mouth as you foam his hair with some sweet-smelling product, your fingers resuming their careful ministrations across his scalp.

It’s nice, he notes, unwilling as he is to admit it. Your touch could knock him out better than a barrel full of oxy and a bottle of the good stuff. He almost lets himself enjoy it - an attractive woman like you working your hands into his hair, massaging with your thumbs, your fingers, your palms. Applying pressure and sensation, even into the tight muscles in his neck. Loosening some of the tension at his temples. He even consciously relaxes his forehead, feeling his frown soften. Closing his eyes instead of fixing his stare on the broken picture rail he’s sure he could fix with a few tools and a little bit of effort.

He breathes more deeply as he closes his eyes, focussing in on the sensation of your touch. On the scents flooding his nose. Floral and sweet and fruity. It smells of you, and he breathes it deeply. He tries not to think about how his pillow will smell of you later.

It shouldn’t be possible for you to smell as good as you do, Joel ponders. You even have him wondering whether perhaps he’s not the only game in town. Whether there’s another smuggler dealing in contraband which hasn’t even occurred to him to barter with. Perfumes and oils and essences. He doubts that you would be mixed up in smuggling, but he doesn’t doubt that you are capable of far more than surface-level assessments might suggest.

After all, people only survive this long with one of two things: brutality, or blind luck - and no-one is that lucky that they’ve never had to dabble in the former. Everyone who has made it this far is only out for themselves.

Therefore, who knows what secrets you hide behind your sweet facade, Joel contemplates. Though, if he did have to believe there was anyone selfless left on god’s blighted earth? If he had to believe in someone, Joel would bet cards on it being you.

He sucks in another long, slow breath, and the scent of you envelops him all over again. For a moment, he finds himself wanting to believe in you. But it’s never too long before he recalls he gave up a long time ago on believing in anything. Anything except his wits and his fists and his gun, at least.

“That’s it Joel,” you praise as he relaxes - uncoils - just a shade, and the smooth tone of your voice slides right under his skin. The thought that you want to make him feel good makes him tingle. Makes him forget - almost - that he doesn’t deserve that.

Meanwhile, your deft fingers and thumbs continue to work nimbly into him, sliding over the contours and bones and ridges of his skull. Applying a warm, steady pressure against the muscles at the nape of his neck. Circling your thumb against a spot that sends a buzzing, suffusing warmth skittering down the length of his spine. Blooming through him - and, it has been so long. So long since Joel felt anything resembling pleasure that when he feels this warm honey trail down his back, an involuntary moan overspills his parted lips.

Shit. There's no chance that you didn't hear that.

The moan reverberates in the tight, quiet room. Lingers far longer than it sounds out for. Lingers, despite how quickly Joel cuts it short - clamping his mouth shut and hoping he can pass it off as a grunt or some expulsion of pain from shifting in his chair.

Your fingers halt, still tangled in his hair. “D-Do you want me to stop?” There is a heat in your tone, Joel thinks, the vowels and consonants warm and full like the pop and crackle of a hearth.

It's new. And it occurs to him, ever so suddenly, that maybe you are enjoying this too? Touching him?

After all, he’s not insisting upon it. Didn’t suggest it. Has not attempted to prolong it. And yet, you continue, working diligently. Soothing him. Freely offering your praise and those little, contented hums - those small, burgeoning sounds which make his fingertips ache to have your skin beneath them, so that he can keep on making your lips overspill with those sweet sounds of satisfaction.

Indeed, Joel’s hair has got to be cleaner now than it’s ever been. He’s been in your chair longer than he ever intended - and you don’t seem to be working any other angle. Don’t seem to be after any contraband that he can get his hands on. Haven’t submitted any requests. Fished for any information.

Perhaps then, you are enjoying him. Enjoying performing this act of service for him - though god knows why. Perhaps you are even looking down at his body right now while he’s all laid out for you in this worn-out chair. His long limbs stretched out, clothes tugging taut over his tight, muscular frame. Perhaps you like looking at him like this, his hair slicked back and away from his sharp face and his hawkish nose, watching the twist and pull of the muscles as he sets his jaw - needing to consolidate all of his resolve simply to resist your sweet, sugary touches. Perhaps you liked when you watched his eyes flutter closed under your touch. When you watched his lips part with that sound. That throaty, undone moan, all for you.

Joel’s not stupid.

He’s clocked the way you look at him sometimes. With this gentle, inviting hunger. The way you always make the effort to come over and speak with him whenever opportunity presents itself. The way your appealing body bends to him like a flower to its sun, as though he has anything nourishing about him. As though he has anything but darkness to offer.

He’s clocked you too. Has seen the way kindness and warmth dance across your features like a living, licking flame. Has seen you glow brightly too with a steady, constant fire, which he is sure must run hotter and more fierce beneath the surface than any would estimate. He had noticed too, of course, the swell and contours of your body, hiding beneath your clothes in all the places he most enjoys.

He’s thought before how he’d like to find out where the hunger in your eyes could take him if he chased it; but in the end he knows there is never any further to go than here. That every road is a dead end since the world ended. That the quarantine zone is the only place with walls more impenetrable than his own.

Still; he’s thought about you more than he’d care to admit. To Tommy. To Tess. To you. To himself. Has thought about the way your lips might feel on his. How soft and warm your body might be if he held it up against him. The way his calloused hands might look with his fingers sunk into your flesh, grabbing up handfuls of you like you are his daily bread - the very thing he needs to survive.

Of burying his head between your thighs for hours and trying to suck the impossible sweetness out of you, as though, somehow, he could then begin to understand how someone as good as you is capable of existing in a world as shitty and cruel as this.

He’s had darker thoughts too though. Thoughts of filling you rough and sudden - if you’d let him. Of burying his anger in you with every thrust, deep enough that he could attempt to forget it. Of letting you take his rage from him for just a few moments - as if it could ever truly leave him for a moment longer than that.

But of course, in actuality, he’s done none of that. Joel hasn’t pulled on a single one of those threads. He hasn’t unravelled.

Instead, for the most part, Joel has simply ignored you. Ignored you, because that’s the precisely the last thing he wants to do. Ignored you, because the safest option - Joel has established - is usually to give himself the opposite of whatever he thinks he wants.

That is… he’s ignored you until today. Until you offered to wash his hair. A simple yet towering offer of kindness in a world blighted by dark and rot. An offer that feels like more than he deserves when all he’s ever done for you is to give you the brush off. To answer you tersely, his aim with every interaction to have it over quick.

Still… he’d said yes. Or, at least, he’d declined to protest. Had nodded. Had followed you.

If he’s being honest with himself, he could have asked Tommy to help him, even if he was trying to obscure the severity of his latest injuries from his dear ol’ brother. Even Tess - she’d have done it. With plenty of griping, but she would have done it.

The truth is though, that he wanted it to be you. Needed it to be you. He’d gravitated towards you, even before he knew what you might be prepared to give him. Even without any trade to offer. For you, he’d unravelled. Just a little; in a moment of weakness. He hasn’t slept and he hasn’t succeeded and he hasn’t succumbed for so long, that he finally slipped. Finally gave into one of his wants. Finally gave in to what he wanted most. To seat himself in front of the warm hearth of you and to feel a little god dang comfort.

Joel opens his eyes, expression washing clean with a new resolve, and your fingers still frozen in his hair. He fixes his gaze on the broken picture rail. Precisely at the point where it fractures. Where it needs fixing. He needs a little fixing too, he thinks. He’s sure now, that he’s chosen the right tool for the job, when not another damn thing could do it.

“No,” he finally responds, his voice unwavering, blinking his bitter coffee eyes, sweetened already by your sugar. A gentle gulp sinking down the corded column of his neck. “I don’t want you to stop.”

From behind and above him, he hears you release a breath as though you may have been holding one, tight in your chest, and you slide your fingers from his hair. “Good.” Good. The word rattles pleasantly in his chest when you say it. “We’ll do your conditioner next.”

And, for the first time, Joel unclenches his fingers from where they have been curled around the arm rests of the chair, clinging on to the lip until his knuckles had turned white.

This time - for all he can tell via his scalp - your touch feels a little bolder. A little looser. You even drag your nails over his head now, applying long, sizzling scratches which send that same buzzy warmth snaking down his back. You massage him more eagerly, blood flooding to his crotch as he thinks about having your strong, supple, precise hands work him in other places. He imagines, as your nails graze over him, how you might claw harsh stripes down his back in a moment of ecstasy. As your thumb massages a circle into the spot behind his ear, imagines how you might circle the soft pad of it around the swollen head of his cock, collecting up the glistening bead of precum as he leaks for you. Imagines, as you carefully pour a cup of warm, cascading water over his head, how he could bathe himself with the warmth of your skin on his. Imagines, as he hears the subtle wet sounds created as you scrunch sweet-smelling elixirs into his hair, how it might sound if your own juices were being coaxed out of you by his fingers until they began to drip, working down his veined, muscled forearm.

He allows himself to imagine everything he plans to deny himself. He at least allows himself to have that.

“That temperature still okay for you?” you ask as you lift the cup of water once again, fracturing his sordid daydreams.

Joel gives a terse grunt. It’s all he can manage.

“So,” you ask breezily. “Are you going anywhere nice for your holidays?”

It takes Joel a few moments to realise just what you’re doing. To twig. It’s a decade - shit, more - since he had a haircut like that, so it takes him a while to pick up that you’re echoing the banal small talk which used to occur as you sat down in the barber chair. Those memory cogs are stiff. He hasn’t turned them in a long time. He doesn’t want to remember that there was anything before. At least, not a lot of it.

Still, your bit takes him by surprise. It’s such a ludicrous contrast that it makes him laugh to think about how things have changed. Who can even go on holiday now? You can’t even leave the quarantine zone. Shit. Even if you could, you wouldn’t want to. And so, Joel laughs. He laughs and he barely recognises the sound from his own mouth. He laughs… and he instantly regrets it, because he knows better than to pull on any of those threads.

But; it’s too late now.

He laughs and you mirror him, the sound melodious and hopeful, and all of a sudden Joel can imagine everything he’s been avoiding you for.

He hasn’t been avoiding you because he wants to fuck you - not really. He’s fucked plenty of folk, and he’s moved on.

He’s avoiding you, because of how easily he can imagine you in a summer dress, twirling in the yard to show it off to him. How easily he can imagine you sitting on a front porch gripping your morning cup of coffee and the sun shining on your face as you smile up at him. How easily he can imagine you lifting a tray of freshly baked cookies out of the oven, batting his hand away as he steals one before it cools.

Truthfully, he has no idea whether you ever did a single one of those things before - before all this. He doesn’t even really care whether you did. He knows it’s a flat, idealised, empty picture postcard version of you.

But, even so, it still hurts.

It still hurts, because of just how easily he could imagine waking up beside you in his house.

The house that no longer exists.

The house with Sarah in it.

And that’s why he never pulls on that thread.

That’s why he avoids you.

That’s why this can never work.

Because you?

You make him remember all the sweet things. All the sweet things the world used to contain before the rot and the death and despair painted over everything. Infected it.

You make him remember the taste of fresh mangoes. The feeling of sand beneath his feet and waves washing over his toes. Saturdays at the mall. Picking away at his guitar in the living room. The easy jubilation of ball games on the TV on Sundays, with Tommy in the kitchen plating up chicken wings. Of bad movie nights. Of mornings spent around the kitchen table, and his daughter cooking up birthday pancakes.

That’s why he can’t ever start to be happy with you. Why he can’t pull on that thread; because all the good things in life are attached to it. All tied and knotted and tangled up with “before”.

When he dreams of you - when he lets himself - he dreams of then too.

He has to, doesn’t he? Because the past is the only place to build a future when the present is apocalyptic, isn’t it? When you are the only thing he hasn’t lost yet, and everything else -pretty much- is already dead and gone.

It kills him that he found you now.

Found you too late.

It kills him because Sarah would have loved you, and because he thinks he could have too.

You don’t know all of this, of course. You can’t ever know this. And so, your oblivious fingers continue touching him, until he feels another moan begin to spool itself tight in his chest, getting ready to unravel. This time though, he is less sure whether it is a moan of pleasure or of anguish. More and more these days, those two feelings have been starting to feel precisely the same.

“Can we move this along?” he asks gruffly, some of the weight settling back into his brow. He asks, predictably, for the opposite of what he wants. It has to be like that. There’s no other road anymore.

“We can stop whenever you like but… that’s a shame.”

His frown deepens. “Why?”

“Because your hands had only just started to unclench.”

Joel’s heart clenches at the thought you were watching him that intently. That you were weighing the state and tension of his body. Valiantly trying to release some of that weight from him, even when you must be so heavy too.

And of course, knowing this, he only tries to push you further away. Before his dreams of you are seared even more brightly under his skin.

“You know what. I should go.” His chest constricts - throat grows tighter, a lump forming.

Joel idly wonders if his grief will ever stop feeling so raw. That’s the second disease, he thinks. The other monster infecting everything around it. The shadow of the original cloud. He wonders if it will always be this debilitating, even after he’s pushed it down as far as it can go. It’s not only a grief for what was lost, he ponders. It’s also a grief for what he can never have again. It's a grief for you and all the ways he could have loved you.

He sits up -carefully but abruptly, hand clamped over his aching ribs- and his wetted hair sends rivulets snaking down his face, his neck, his chest. Inching beneath the collar of his green button down shirt. Collecting on his shoulders like a pattern of indoor raindrops.

“Joel,” you scold, tutting lightly. Following quickly after him with the towel, trying to mop up after him. Hastily, you towel off his hair. Sneak your hand beneath his collar, gathering the drops up from his chest and neck.

With effort, and a grimace, Joel swings his legs around, until he is sitting upright, feet planted on the floor. But, whether for the pain or for the promise of pleasure - he’s not sure - he can’t bring himself to move any further than that. Especially not as you finally round from the basin, the damp towel slung over your shoulder, your hands and wrists still shined and wet from caressing his hair in a way he can only describe as reverent.

You kneel before him, drying your hands off and setting the towel down before boldly sliding your palms up his denim-clad thighs. “Joel. Would you just let me take care of you?"

He meets your eyes and finds them soft but determined. Empty of darkness, even with the black expanding abyss of your pupil eating away at the colour of your iris.

Joel looks down at your hands as you begin to smooth them up and down, inching slowly up towards his crotch before retreating - repeating the pattern. He looks at you in displeasure, but there’s nothing about your touch which is unwelcome - and that’s exactly the problem. He swallows. Gathers his question up in his throat before he offers it to you gently, as though in cupped, outstretched palms. “How?”

Your beautiful eyes flash with pity then, he thinks, or something like it. It seems like a silly question, but after all this time he doesn’t recall what it’s like to be cared for. He doesn’t know how to let you.

Your palm reaches up to the scruff on his cheek. You smooth it fondly. “Lie back,” you encourage, with a soft smile which seems to glow from the inside, like a porch backlit with the glow of home. “And just let me take care of the rest.”

Joel has always found something to fight for, but today, he has no fight left in him. In truth, he doesn’t want to fight this. To fight you. It is easy to give in to you. In fact, it's too easy. That has always been the problem.

Your hands continue to travel up and down his thighs, and he feels the warmth of you bleed through the fabric.

God. He’s already hard for you. Already full and throbbing in his jeans. Already, he is imagining your hands wrapping around the thick, straining mass of him. Imagining the way that -in moments - you may be unloosing his belt, threading leather through denim loop. The way you might pop the button keenly with your thumb, and he might groan as you relieve the pressure. The way you might unzip the straining fly to have his substantial length spring free, so rarely touched and so so ready to be taken care of.

At the thought of that alone, he’s straining against the seams of his pants, a pressure which sits smack bang between pleasure and pain.

“Joel,” you whisper softly, and he realises he hasn’t yet moved from his position.

“Right.” He swallows. He lies back. Stretches himself out, feeling far more exposed this time, even if he is still fully clothed.

You stand, quickly disappearing the basin away and soon you’re back, standing over Joel and watching him laid out all needy like this. His eyes travel over you, entranced by your form, and he suddenly needs friction. Needs the relief he didn't even know he was waiting for until you offered it - or, implied it. He bucks his hips up, not even caring if he’s being subtle, and the denim and leather creak as he shifts. He punches out a breath as he strains in his pants, chasing any morsel of friction he can. The feeling of his shaft pushing harder against the seam as his whole cock twitches for you. For those hands. For that plush mouth. Maybe for that cunt of yours.

As usual though, when Joel feels anything good, there is a familiar swell of guilt too; this time, riding in on the flood of arousal to his cock. This time, there’s something new to be feeling guilty for too. Something to add to that already long list. He feels guilty for having all of these thoughts about you, despite never having asked you where you were from. Before. What you used to do. Who you lost.

“I’m sorry,” Joel offers, before he even knows that his mouth is moving. Before he’s even figured out what it is he’s sorry for.

Truth is, he’s sorry for so many reasons. For what he’s done. What he’s lost. Whatever you’ve lost. For not asking you about it. Mainly, he realises, because he can’t make you any promises. None that he could keep. Not to keep you safe. He can’t promise you that.

He thinks you’ll ask him what for - why he’s sorry. But instead, you say something else.

“Don’t be.”

If only it was that easy.

Even so, he looks into your eyes as your hungry gaze skims the length of his body, settling at the bulge at his crotch as you drag your tongue along the pillow of your lower lip. You’re beautiful. Vibrant. Full of life and lust and hunger. Alive in a dead world; and suddenly, it doesn’t matter one bit to Joel where you came from. It doesn’t matter what happened before. It only matters where you’re going. What you want. How he can give it to you.

But it is you who gives him something.

You hinge at the hips, slanting your mouth against Joel’s, and he feels your lips brush up against the scruff on his top lip. Feels the pillow of your plush mouth meet his before your tongue fleets out, licking into him like a searing, dancing flame. You hum hungrily into his mouth and his lips chase you as you pull away, another backlit smile dancing on your face, your features already beginning to resemble home to him in a world where there's no such thing.

Joel watches you move now, with quiet fascination, as you kick off your boots. As you wiggle your pleasing hips, untying then easing your cargo pants and panties down your thighs. His tongue curls around his lip as he is gifted glimpses of your skin - although you are still covered to your upper thigh by the yellow tunic top you’re wearing - and now he can’t help but palm himself through his jeans for a morsel of relief.

Still. What you're about to offer him? It feels like far too much. “What are you doing? You don’t have to-“

“-Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” you promise, meeting his eyes, open and honest and ready to back off if he doesn’t want this. But shit, how could he not want you? Look at you - and so he can’t. He can’t possibly tell you that, even though he thinks that he should.

“No. God, I want you,” Joel pleads, voice hollowed-out with need. All spent, like ash.

“And you’re going to have me.”

You kick your pants and panties off, leaving them to pool discarded on the floor, and Joel palms himself a little harder, grabbing the fat roll of himself through the denim as he catches a glimpse. They’re nothing sexy, of course; but from the way they’ve fallen he is able to note the telltale wet spot on the crotch. It looks like you’ve soaked them through, and God he wants to feel your wetness for himself.

You ease over him, settling your knees on to either side of the leather chair, where Joel’s legs are stretched out before him, sturdy thighs slightly parted to accommodate the arousal between his legs.

You’re still wearing your tunic top, bright yellow like sunshine, and the length of it dances and clings at intervals to your hips and thighs as you move. It’s driving him wild that you are bare beneath. All he can think about is that warm, delicious wetness of yours spilling over him. God, he wants to hear it. Wants to squeeze it out of you. Wants it to drip down the veined shaft of him.

You straddle his thighs, knees folded, the soles of your feet pointed up towards your ass cheeks, and your heat settles just below his own - not quite grinding over him, but tantalisingly close.

You take a moment like this to simply look at him. To gaze into his coffee brown eyes as though there’s something more to him than being sorry and bitter. Like you could see anything sweet there. Anything worth wanting. Then, you comb his damp hair back with your fingers, drawing the strands back from his forehead. Tucking and curling them around his ears.

Your touch - your tenderness - makes him ache. Makes him throb. Makes him want to bury himself in you. His tongue, his fingers, his cock, his feelings - anything of him you’ll take. And, as he wraps his arms around you a wracked moan unspools from his chest as his rough fingertips find the soft skin beneath your yellow tunic. As his touch traverses the contours of you he’s always admired from a distance.

As his jaw falls open, slack with desire, you drink down his moan, catching the resonant sound in the cave of your mouth. Kissing him with a gentle yet constant hunger. With a red hot spark of deviance in your sweet eyes which almost makes Joel spill creamy ropes into his pants there and then. Your tongue travels along your lower lip. Your gaze drops, lust dark and heavy to the bulge at his crotch, and you unloop his belt with those hands of yours. They'll look small next to the size of him, he thinks. He likes that thought a lot.

“Let’s see what contraband you’re smugglin’ in these pants of yours, cowboy," you smile, and Joel's eyes crinkle with rare amusement. His face tips up with a lopsided smile which is quick to drop - all of him focussed on where you're about to touch him.

He twitches eagerly in his jeans thinking about how tight you will grip him, but you don’t touch him just yet. Instead, you shuffle yourself back, down his legs, giving yourself enough space to tug on his clothing and to ease it down his thighs. Once his pants and his boxers have reached his knees you stop there, abandoning them almost as soon as his thick, veined length is sprung free, nestling all tender against the hatch of greying hair trailing down his abdomen - where his shirt is lifted.

He’s flushed a deep colour already. Veined and needy and weeping for you. His need becomes even more urgent yet as he thinks of your hands and the way they move - the way they might touch him. Take care of him. As he thinks about you sliding your thumb over the pearl of precum at his head.

Still, he is not quite ready for the feeling when you dip forward to slide your tongue around the head of him instead, gathering that salty bead with your tongue, lapping it up with relish. He feels you hum around the head of him, the vibration sending a zip of pleasure flooding along his length. Making his balls tighten and ache already.

He wants you. He needs you. He wants you with an urgency, and yet here you are, still taking your time. Taking your time to suck at him and feel him weigh heavy over your tongue until your jaw aches from it. To grip him in your hand and marvel at the girth of him. At the way he is so sensitive that every motion and shift of your pattern makes him melt into the chair, increasingly boneless, his brow burdened with need.

You are tender with him. Careful, of his injuries. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? You touch him like he’s wounded; everywhere. His whole body. His whole soul too. And he is, isn’t he? All of him is hurting? Has been for so long?

Joel groans, his lip almost splitting from biting down and stifling his moans. He never was a vocal lover but God, it’s different for you. And this time, the sound punches out of him as you shift. As you settle your cunt over him and he feels your sopping heat glide along his length for the first time. It is a non-descript sound, halfway between pain and pleasure; and instantly, concern flashes in your eyes. You pause; lift off of him with a rise of your thighs and check-in with him.

“Joel. Are you okay? Am I hurting you?”

Are you? His breath is searing in and out of his lungs. Ragged breaths, jolting his pained ribs. You have him on the edge and so alight with desire for you that his need feels unbearable. He’s aching to fill you up. His face is contorted and crumpled by his need, brows drawn down, eyes half-lidded. But is this pain? Or is this something else? Something he has forgotten.

For a moment, then, he almost answers “yes”. Yes, because he doesn’t remember anything else but pain and so, the sensation he’s feeling now? Isn’t that pain too? Is there anything else?

He’s almost grateful when he shifts slightly, writhes against the chair to buck his hips keenly up in search of you as you withdraw so cruelly from him, his muscles coiling up. He’s grateful that the shift does indeed send pain blooming through his side; because he knows then, with certainty, that you are bringing him nothing but pleasure.

He’s grateful too though, for the pain, because a pleasure like this? A pure hit of it, not cut through with anything he's more used to? Joel thinks it would be too much for him to take. Joel thinks you are too much for him. Far more than he deserves.

“Joel?” you prompt, sliding your palm against his scruff. He hears it rasp like a scraped match. “I want you.”

You don’t want me, the voice in his head sounds out. I have nothing I can give you. But those are not the words that make it to his lips. Those are not the words at all. “Then have me, sweetheart.”

Joel may have nothing he feels he can give you, but holy shit he wants everything you are offering. He wants your plush, velvet mouth. Your smooth thighs. He wants the pooling slick between your legs - and for once, just this once, he intends to allow himself to satisfy his needs.

He figures he will simply owe you a debt. Find something that you want or need and acquire it for you. He simply has to think of this like a transaction, doesn’t he? Something familiar. Something he knows. That way, he’s not taking anything he doesn’t deserve - and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve you.

Once invited back to his body, sure of what he wants, you kiss him. Deeply, hungrily, your tongue rolling and writhing against his. Your breaths just as ragged as his. Your thighs quaking next to his, your want more than evident.

You break for air and you rise up on your knees again so that you can settle over him, notching the fat, swollen head of him against your folds.

You look like a dream on top of him, and with this yellow fabric dancing about your thighs, you look to Joel like you’re wearing a sun dress. Indeed, when he looks up at you - when he blocks everything else out - you make it feel like nothing ever happened. Like nothing was ever lost.

You look just like you’re about to fuck him on his bed on white crisp sheets. Like you’ll fall asleep beside him and in the morning he’ll make you breakfast.

You look like everything he wanted and found far too late.

You are beautiful. You are good. You are gentle. Gentle still. Gentle despite everything. And where on earth did you learn that from - how on earth did you hang on to it - in a world like this? A world which has not been gentle with him. Which has been out to get him at every turn.

You are gentle with him, even when he is undeserving. Even when he has been anything but.

Gingerly then, you settle yourself over him, and once his head is notched there and your slick hand is guiding him home, he slips easily past your folds. His eyes flutter closed as he feels your warmth wrap around him, the tightness of you hugging his girth. You’re so tight that he feels like he must be splitting you apart, but the way you’re shaking for him, the way these delicious moans unravel from your mouth tells him it feels just as good for you too.

You’re gentle with him. Sinking down on him slowly. Being ever so cautious of his ribs and his bruises and scrapes. You’re making him feel so good. So close to coming undone.

But god, he’s not planning on being gentle with you.

There’s a part of Joel that wants to make love to you, sure; but he’s not even sure he’d know how to do that anymore. How to be tender. How to be gentle. And so, he reaches for you in the only way he knows how. Reaches for you with his arms, his hands. With a body that doesn’t remember pleasure - not really. With a soul that doesn’t remember anything good - not really. He reaches for you, with hands that only know how to kill things.

In the end, it’s clunky, when he extends his touch towards you. Rough - and far too desperate. He reaches for you like it’s survival - the one thing he knows how to do - and he claws at your hips, the rough pads of his flesh sinking into your skin like dough. He has the sense, at least, to check with you, to ask with words rasped through gravel in his throat if he can fill you up. And as soon as you say yes, as soon as your breathy affirmatives and pleas lilt to his ears, Joel is dragging you down on him. Spearing you -abrupt and sudden- with the fat length of his dick, surging into you all at once.

The motion, along with the sudden swell of him punches a breath from your lungs, your rib cage flaring with quick short pants. Your eyes, rolling back into your skull as you mewl his name, and god, if he wasn’t hurt he’d be drilling into you already, fucking himself up into you at a brutal pace, so long as you’d let him.

“S-sorry,” he stutters, with effort. “Too much?”

“Almost. Joel - fuck. I’m so full of you.”

He stills as you breathe around him, adjusting to his size, and as soon as you’re ready you rise up on your knees, dragging electric pleasure all along his shaft as your cunt strokes and grips him tightly.

Then, when you sink yourself down once more, impaling yourself on his length, Joel screws his eyes shut as he eases -glides- into the wet, warm cushion of you all over again. You’re so soft and tight and forgiving, your walls relenting to the girth of him, yet providing such glorious friction that it makes his head spin. Makes him see spots, the edges of his vision whiting out.

Next, Joel moves too, adjusting his hips slightly. Helping you impale yourself on him over and over like this. He keeps it going, despite the burn of pain in his ribs and his shoulder. He tries to guide you with the claws of his hands at your hips, until it begins to hurt him too much. Until all he can do is lie back and take it from you. All he can do is feel it, emitting gusty, billowing breaths from the shocked “o” of his plush lips as he attempts to stave of his end. To do all he can to take care of your end too before he spills himself.

He needs to. Needs to take care of you like this, because he can’t offer you any other damn thing.

He can’t promise to take care of you.

He can’t promise that to anyone ever again.

He will only break it.

So, no promises. But surely, he can feel pleasure, for these fleeting moments? Surely, he can give you that too, because even if he doesn’t he’s damn sure you deserve at least that much.

He reaches for you. In desperation again. Like it’s survival. Like he can’t live without this. Without you. Even though he has already. Even though he'll have to again.

For now though, for right now, he's filling you all the way up. Squeezing your juices out of you. Pushing them out with every thrust until he’s fucking you with wet, obscene sounds. Until your slick is coursing down his shaft, coating his balls, inching over him.

With a grunt, Joel gathers some slick with the two forefingers of his left hand, and he rubs the calloused pads of his fingers into your clit. You yowl at the pressure -the pleasure- and then you guide him with your hand over his, Joel quickly learning your pace and your patterns, replicating it perfectly when you release your guiding touch.

It feels so good. It feels so good and your eager, pleasured moans are billowing down to him, your cunt clenching down on him and his dick is feeling fucking blissful as you repeatedly sink yourself. It feels good - so good - and it’s more than he deserves but god, he’s going to take it. He's going to take it even if he has to be punished for it later.

He’s pretty sure the world has been punishing him for years anyway. Pretty sure it’s keeping score and will be sure to let him know about it if he dares to take too much.

For now though.

Holy shit.

It feels so good and you’re so beautiful. So perfect. Better than he could have imagined, his flattened daydreams of you nothing compared to the real thing. You’re a vision, and you’re too good for this blighted earth and you’re every bit deserving of the life Joel knows he can never give you.

It’s bittersweet and you’re beautiful; but you’re too beautiful to look at - bright like the sun in your yellow tunic, fabric moving around your thighs like a sun dress, like something you might have worn in the before times. Like you might have worn in his yard if he’d still had a home to offer you. Maybe. Maybe you would've. It kills him that he'll never know. Never know what you could have had. What he could have given you.

You’re beautiful, and god you’re too beautiful to look at and so he drags you down to his lips as you clamp down around him, squeezing him like a vice, causing pleasure to sear white hot from his middle, creamy ropes of cum filling you up as you convulse. Your spasming cunt sends jolting aftershocks zipping through his length, ekeing every last drop from him, draining him dry.

You’re too beautiful. Too good of a thing for him to hold on to - and so Joel keeps kissing you, his hands coming to cup your face as tenderly as his killing hands know how. Kissing you, for long enough that he can quash the tears which threaten to squeeze out from the corners of his eyes. He kisses you softly, his sentiments dissolving like sugar against your mouth - as sweet as he can muster.

He kisses you, until he feels the shape of your mouth morph into a smile, and that’s it. That's when he stops.

That’s when he stops, because he can’t let himself feel this. He can’t let himself feel this because he can’t pull on that thread. Not when everything he has worked so hard to push down is all knotted and tangled together. Everything he’s loved and everything he’s lost, all bundled up in his chest.

He can’t let himself feel this because it was far more than he expected to feel.

He’d thought that you would be quick. Thought -hoped- you were just using him. Like this was a transaction. That maybe this was how you collect advantages. How you’ve managed to survive. Instead though, you gave, and you took, but it was not transactional in the slightest. And Joel has nothing left in his heart or his pockets except ration cards. Nothing he can give you in return.

Most importantly though, he can’t let himself feel this, because happiness died when the world did.

Died when she did.

And, happiness?

Well - Joel doesn’t believe he deserves to feel it again.

That’s why he encourages you off of him a little too quickly, even when you pepper kisses along the column of his neck. Why he moves away a little too abruptly, even when you tongue hungrily at the salt-slick sweat which has pooled in the hollow of his throat. Why he sets his face, all stern again even as he’s still leaking out of you.

Anyway, he stands, grunting out in pain. Maybe in anguish. Pulling his pants up with his good arm, and preparing to go.

He sets his face, and he looks back at you, where you have huddled yourself in his spot on the chair, your makeshift yellow sun dress hitched up around your hips, exposing where you glisten, all slick with the evidence of what he just did with you.

You're beautiful. Too beautiful. You look like summer when he meets your eyes. A sun that is bright and constant, like it used to be before the rot clouded over the skies.

A light that is far too bright for him.

Part of him expects you to look sad. To look surprised that he has leapt up like this, motioning to leave so violently. Expects you to plead with him to give you more; but instead, you look at him levelly. Knowing, not naive. Maybe you too are clear on the limits of what’s possible. Clear that there are some things that can never be.

Still, as that soft smile plays over your face, as Joel holds the memory of your touch over his body, the bitter coffee look in his eyes sweetens just a little.

“Listen. Thanks," he states brusqely. It’s not enough. Not by any stretch. But unless you want some contraband or some shit, it’s all he’s got.

“No problem, Joel-y. I... I just wanted to take care of you. I thought you deserved that - at least once.”

Tears prick at the corners of Joel’s eyes. Stinging; but pushed down and flattened before you can even notice it. He’s not quite sure. Not quite sure whether hearing you say he deserves something he’s sure that he doesn’t counts as pleasure or pain, but he supposes that it doesn’t matter anymore anyway. He’s back to not knowing the difference. Not recognising pleasure or happiness when they stare him in the face, because now they have become strangers.

Joel nods efficiently at you. Picks up his rucksack and moves towards the doorway, trying not to think about the fact you’re still full of him. About the fact that you’re still smiling, that backlit glow of home imviting him in.

Truth be told, he can’t imagine ever being happy again.

If he could imagine it though? If he could imagine being happy, he’s sure as all hell that it would be with you.

You’re like summer, he thinks. Bright. Luminous. It's just that Joel’s not looking for the light.

For someone who’s so used to the dark? Like him? The light is blinding.

Still, he pauses in the doorway, turning back towards you for one moment more. From the surprise on your face now, he can tell you didn’t even expect that much from him - and by God, you deserve so much better.

His eyes sweeten, just a little further, and his face sets - now with a different kind of resolve. He offers his words, like they’re cupped in outstretched palms. Like he could be gentle. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t owe me a debt, Joel.”

He nods, but that doesn’t mean at all that he accepts your assertion.

His eyes tick over to the broken picture rail, right where it fractures. His gaze lingers on it for a moment, cataloguing what tools he might need to fix it. Clocking the picture frames of salvaged art you have leaning up against the wall, not yet hung.

“I said, I'll make it up to you.” You nod efficiently back at him, and Joel drinks one more long measure of you in before he leaves. Maybe it's not quite a promise, but right now, it's all he's got.

He’d burn the world down for you, he thinks, if it could change a damn thing.

Thing is though, the world has already burned.

He can’t make you many promises. Can’t keep you safe. Make you happy. Offer you a home.

He’ll only let you down.

Maybe all of that is true. Maybe it is - but Joel knows one thing for sure. You’re brighter than the sun, and, in a world full of darkness? He just can’t look away, even though you’re blinding.

#joel miller x reader #tlou #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou spoilers #the last of us spoilers

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thecruellestmonth · 4 months

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Jason Todd 2023 fic recs

Some of the best Jason Todd fics that were posted or updated in the year 2023.

"Beneficiary" by sirsparklepants https://archiveofourown.org/works/44845189 - The beneficiaries of the estate of Jason Todd. Wonderfully bittersweet. A story about "the logistical demands of death" and "the banalities of death and grief".

"The Extremely True Story of the Titans Tower Attack" by Wisetypewriter https://archiveofourown.org/works/45011785 - Red Hood evilly dragged the iron maiden Talia had gifted him in the Titans Tower’s kitchen. He cackled to himself, so deliciously happy to be able to test it on Robin. -- The most "Titans Tower AU" ever of all time. A must-read for anyone who hates or loves fanon.

The Foreigner by somecaveats https://archiveofourown.org/works/44992420 - Jason had played out Bruce’s first words to him again and again, the blame, the disgust, the rejection, and then, sometimes, when he was feeling sentimental, tears and warmth and muttered prayers about the miracle of his return. He had thought he was prepared for anything. --Or; Immediately after the Lazarus Pit, Jason comes back. -- You know those fantasies of Jason returning to the family in a neater and more palatable way? And all his loved ones react so sweetly and supportively and sensitively—as if Jason's own behavior were the singular deciding factor in whether the family is functional and healthy? This isn't that. Or; in which Jason receives a damningly reluctant welcome home, has several ugly ugly panic attacks, and expertly deduces that one of Bruce's Wayne ancestors got it on with John Singer Sargent. [work in progress/incomplete]

"how it feels to be immune" by maangoes https://archiveofourown.org/works/44490682 - He spent a year in a villa in the Hindu Kush. He doesn’t remember most of it. There were people that cleaned and made him food. The whole house smelled like Talia, like rose and jasmine flowers. This is a soothing little vignette, like a calm before a storm. Talia shines in her competence and in her tenderness, while also struggling to make the right choices for Jason's post-resurrection recovery.

whether a beast or a human being by Goldmonger https://archiveofourown.org/series/3417622 - The Red Hood has been recaptured by the Batman and consigned to a private prison, one buried deep beneath Gotham City. The Dark Knight has encountered insane and deadly criminals before, and knows the havoc that can be wreaked from allowing them any kind of freedom. The Red Hood will spend the rest of his life under observation, and will be cared for according to the directives of the Batman. It is unlikely that he will rejoin society, but that is a sacrifice that must be made to protect the citizens of Gotham. Or: "The Wide Sargasso Sea: Jason Todd Edition." Now serendipitously even more relevant after Gotham War! This story contains extreme and unmitigated pain, and severe medical abuse. In the words of the writer: a story "of how even the closest relationship with the most love in the world can fall apart under the right conditions." This is an ongoing/incomplete story, but each installment feels like a satisfying pausing point.

"catch and release" by hellsreluctantheir https://archiveofourown.org/works/50457703 - Dick & Jason hurt/comfort, with POV Dick. In the words of one commenter, this is a sweet story that really appreciates Dick's "constant worrying & planning & trauma and huge sense of responsibility that he’s always got going there" with respect to the ups and downs of his history with Jason.

"Neighbours" by Aingeal98 https://archiveofourown.org/works/40132554 - Bruce loved his son. Bruce was delighted that his son was making new friends. But there was something odd about that family, and no it wasn't just because Cassandra's mother outvoted him at the last PTA meeting, Jason. (That may have played a small part. Sue him, he's human.) PTA AU starring Cass and Shiva, with Jason as a supporting character. A feel-good story with comedy, friendship, family, and tiny pre-teen urban justice crusader Cass as our intrepid hero!

"EURUS" by cowboymater https://archiveofourown.org/works/50555239/chapters/127711369 - "Eurus is a continued interrogation of our own beliefs […] the record seeks to capture the feelings of dark woods, dry branches, dead leaves, and wondering who had migrated — you, or your flock?" OR: Jason Todd, his convictions, his forgiveness, and the cycles of violence and hope (violent hope, sometimes) he may never be free of.

"Ages 12 & Up" by motleyfam https://archiveofourown.org/works/52384984 - See, the real reason that Damian always refuses painkillers is that he cannot swallow a pill. Cute and fun. Damian is a tough little guy, and Jason is an obnoxiously annoying big brother.

"YOU MUST KNOW LIFE TO KNOW DECAY." by orpheusaki @damianbugs https://archiveofourown.org/works/48513616 - For as long as Jason can remember, it's always been raining. Jason's memories of rainy days throughout his life. The rain continues, and so does Jason.

"Get Joker" by chucklesbuckles https://archiveofourown.org/works/49377664 - Harley tries to bond with Jason over their singular shared point of trauma, obsesses over the dead bird's hands, and alienates him by having a platonic hard on for his dad. Jason just wants to make bets over who on their team will bite it first. In which Suicide Squad: Get Joker! is scrapped for parts and melted down. Harley's retrospective on having knowingly loved someone who tortured Barbara Gordon and killed Robin. [POV Harley Quinn.]

"Down to Dust" by Sparkypants https://archiveofourown.org/works/47407291 - It's not the warehouse that Jason has nightmares about. It's Bruce. Bruce deciding to cremate him instead of bury him. Because if he had, what would Jason be now? An infinite number of pieces, cast into the wind. Smoke hanging in the air and never whole or home again, part of him always missing. A spiral of psychological horror, then some hurt/comfort.

"the shadow of violence" by shipyrds https://archiveofourown.org/works/49059019 - Jason shoots someone to protect Damian. Bruce, as usual, has opinions.

"promises" by sunspikes https://archiveofourown.org/series/3413851 - After a nightmarish premonition, young Jason makes Bruce promise not to bury him.

"through death and time" by sparkycap https://archiveofourown.org/works/45733813 - After a mission that takes Batman and Nightwing back twenty years in the past, they end up with time to kill. Bruce does what he does best: he finds a kid. Luckily this one is already his. The fluffiest feel-good fluff available, featuring Bruce & Dick & Jason. Sweeter than WFA.

"The Daughter of the Water" by chucklesbuckles https://archiveofourown.org/works/46605205 - “To walk the world!” it croons, bright gold spilling over it’s cheeks, highlighting the springy white curls crowning it’s head. It bends, cold wet hands cradling Talia’s face, wiping her tears away. It places a soft kiss to her forehead, tucking a loose curl of hair behind her ear, torchlight eyes burning. “Thank you for the body.” The Lazarus Pit takes Jason's body for a long and productive joyride. A creepy and wet story featuring Talia & Jason, with POV Talia.

"Confessional" by Temeritous https://archiveofourown.org/works/45307363 - Jason gets hit with a truth spell and uses it in an inadvisable manner. Ooh, the emotional pain here is exquisite. It's like helplessly watching a glass bottle of olive oil drop and shatter and spill all over the floor.

"Oracle Movie Trailer" by centreoftheselights https://archiveofourown.org/works/47940070 - A screenplay for a trailer for a Oracle: Year One origin movie, featuring Robin II as a supporting character. We love the idea of a movie following Barbara's recovery and journey to becoming Oracle.

Red X by ilovelegendsalot https://archiveofourown.org/series/1211157 - Mostly following the canon events of the Teen Titans cartoon, from the perspective of the second Red X, Jason Todd.

"salt in the wound (and a kiss on my cheek)" by pseudonym123 https://archiveofourown.org/works/52471159/ - A RHATO #25 canon divergence fic where Roy doesn't come to Jason's rescue that night on the rooftop. Bruce and Jason deal with the fall out. [incomplete/work in progress]

[2022]

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joisbishmyoga · 1 year

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Last night, while my VPN had my computer convinced the internet didn't exist at all, I thought of a thing in Star Wars. Or, well, a few things that all lead to one conclusion:

1. Almost none of the ten million or so chips misfired. The instances we know of, there was either head trauma actually damaging the chip, or the clone had gotten it out. That means this isn't untried new technology, or even recent enough to still have the bugs getting ironed out. This is the sort of decades-old stuff that has us fighting to make our our VPNs (recent tech) work but not our refrigerators (old tech). They could not have been invented for the clone army.

2. Mind control chips are the stuff dreams are made of... for corrupt bastard politicians and slavers, who are exactly the kind of people with the power to get them used in bulk. We don't see the chips being used anywhere else. There have to be factors limiting their use. Not just public outrage, pfft as if politicians care about that, and it can't be cost because Palpatine (for example) has the entirety of the Imperial funds at hand. It's probably something like the necessity of installing it in early infancy or pre-natally, plus a relatively high price tag.

2a. If the chips were at all able to be installed on the general public, the elite public, or adult slaves, Leia would have one. She does not.

3. Still, mind-control is far too appealing for the Hutts to not have them installed on every personal slave possible. Chances are, if you were born to a rich Hutt's household slaves, you've got one.

4. This has to have been going on for a good two or three generations, minimum, before the Jedi genocide. There's no way they don't know these chips exist and how to get rid of them.

5. The nature of them being mind-control chips mean you can't get informed, meaningful consent. It's no different than recieving a patient under the influence of chemical mind-altering substances. This is therefore one of the few things a Jedi medic will do without consent.

6. All this is to say that when the Jedi get the clone armies? It's standard operating procedure to check for a chip and get it out, and everyone is sworn to confidentiality about it because you don't want slavers to find out the chips aren't secret. They'll go thinking up something worse.

6a. Dooku doesn't tell Palpatine because you know it sure would be nice to have ten million toy soldiers of his very own. He almost certainly has his own "ignore everything Palpatine commands, Dooku's in charge" order programmed in.

7. Palpatine gets a wonderful, awful surprise when he sends out Order 66.

#star wars #get rekt #every day is screw palpatine over day

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kesbeacon · 20 days

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I haven't done any intros or abouts for a while:

Who are you?

I'm Kes Beacon and creative pursuits come out of my ears.

What do you do?

I am, most consistently, an author; I am usually an artist; often a fibre crafter; intermittently a programmer(ish) or baker; occasionally a woodworker, calligrapher, poet, essayist, photographer, &c &c &c.

Unfortunately, writing is one of these things that works best offline without an audience, so it's a little hard to bring you folks in to the fold.

My novels are:

Oathbreaker, a science fantasy novel about love, trauma, narrative, and the collapse of civilisations. The greatest space knight of their court, Ithye Xallen, finds their fate-winged swoop towards the ending of their quest interrupted by the strange arrival of a person from faraway skies and the intrusion of unprecedented doom. Complete, unsold as yet. (Enquiries to my agent, John Baker @ Bell Lomax Moreton. You never know :P!)

Sigil's Resolve (WIP), a scifi novel about identity, ecology, zombie capitalism, and giant fuckin mechs. Heig, one of the last handful of pilots working the mech shows in the dying seaside town of Zhelkirk, thinks she's holding it together. She's really, really not.

I'm also working on:

Gun: Hell of a Place, a comic about an outlaw hunting their quarry in a strange, burned land;

An animal companion generator, for all your cute creature and majestic mount needs;

Getting you an actual picture of the finished corset I made;

The next installment of Thought Provoked.

What now?

If you're interested, give this post a reblog and help me find a wider audience, or sign up for my newsletter (see pinned post, where you can also find my other accounts) to make sure big updates don't get missed in the social media scramble. Thanks for reading!

#author #artist #artist on tumblr #craft #art #fantasy #science fiction

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dckweed · 2 years

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hello my loves, it's been a while since my last part for this series, and i just want to remind yall that these are going total AU, against the plot of stranger things and are totally going off of my own plots/imagination.

I know originally I was planning on only doing four but i think i might possibly turn it into five, y'all don't know this about me yet, but you'll soon find out that i can't leave good enough alone lmao, my brain goes wild i swear. im sorry these are taking so long, and im sorry that i havent gotten any new requests out yet, i honestly just haven't had the motivation!

anyway, i give you part three of the billy installment:

part one , part two

warnings: MINORS SAFE TO READ! mentions of trauma, mentions of abuse of children, billy being completely head over heels for reader, reader being a total love drunk brat for billy, papa hop goes mad bear..billy being a decent big brother

"..DADDY, PLEASE!.." billy hargrove x female!hopper!reader

Billy had stuck around that day, and for several days after, your father had made it very clear that he was welcome in the house, that he accepted the two of you being together, it made him feel comfortable, like he didn't have to hide anything.

He loves that the two of you could do something as simple as sit on the couch together now. While your father worked at night, the two of you had stayed up on the couch watching old movies, it was probably one of his favorite moments, and it made him smile to think of it. you had sprawled out on the couch, your head in his lap and he had just sat there, leaned against the cushions with his hand playing in your hair for hours as he listened to you laugh at the corny lines coming from the television set.

He looked down at you occasionally, the light from the television coloring your face as it played. He couldn't help but smile lovingly at you and imagine himself in a few years down the road with you, maybe married and in your own home..he wanted to take you to california to see where he was at his happiest, hell he even had thoughts of you with a couple of little ones running around, you round and pregnant, another on the way.

fuck, he thought, i really am in love with her..he couldn't help but smile at the thought though. The night had ended with you falling asleep in his lap, carefully he scoops you up and stands, carrying you gently to your new bedroom.

He had kissed your head gently when he laid you down, covering you up with your comforter. He had gone home when he knew his father wasn't there and had grabbed a few pieces of clothes, you wore his tshirt and he couldn't help but admire it. He sighed, grabbing his keys off of your dresser. He couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over him, he didn't want to leave, he felt safe here with you and your father, hell he even liked your sister, she was weird but he thought she was cool. he knew he needed to go back though, Max could only over for him for so long.

Reluctantly he gives you a longing stare from your doorway, flipping the light off before closing your door, he even poked his head in on Eleven, who was sound asleep, before making his way to the front door and out to his car.

It was a long and quiet drive home, during which he smoked more cigarettes than he probably should have. He sat in his drive way for a few minutes, his nerves getting the best of him before he opened the door and made his way up to the porch, sliding his key into the lock.

"Well," He heard from the dark, his heart immediately starting to race in fear. He closed the door, knowing there was no turning back now, he had already walked into the lions den. "look who finally decided to come home from the whore's house."

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

You were sound asleep, the early hours of the morning still dark and quiet, peaceful even, though that didn't stop you from waking up with a start, wondering if the noise you'd heard was in your sleep or if it had actually happened. You glanced over at the clock, it was just past midnight and Billy wasn't beside you, you knew he must have finally gone home.

You were just about to lay back down when you heard the sound again, a heavy pounding on the front door of your small house. Startled, you jump before you realize the urgency in it and hear a muffled call from outside. Quickly you rise to your feet, swinging your legs over the side of your bed and onto your rug covered floor, not bothering to stop and get your slippers or but on bottoms besides the panties you're wearing, it's not like Billy's shirt didn't cover everything anyway.

Eleven is poking her head out of her doorway as you rush by, looking at you confused. "Stay there." You say, the pounding coming again, it sounded like two fists and you still couldn't make out the voice. Quickly you rush through the living room, skirting around the small coffee table and turn the locks on the door, throwing it open just as the person raises their hand to knock.

"Billy?!" You ask, squinting into the dark. The porch light wasn't on but you could make out his face from the shadowy light of the moon. You see a dark mark on his face, and a panicked looked about his features, you scan the rest of his body with urgency, your eyes widening in surprise. "Max?!"

The girl had blood dribbling from her nose and lip, a small cut on her cheek as well and one of her eyes looked red and swollen. Quickly, horrified, you pull both of them in, the girl looks like she can barely stand on her own, Billy the one supporting her. You lead her to the couch and set her down, Billy just stands behind you, fidgeting nervously with his hands, running them through his hair several times.

"He hit her, he hit her and i didn't know what else to do or where else to go but I couldn't just leave her there she doesn't deserve that.." You hear him say, his voice thick with emotions. You knew that he and Max weren't the friendliest with each other, but you also knew that deep down Billy would never let anything happen to her, and you knew that he must be eating himself alive on the inside for this. "And it's all my fault.." The moment ran through his mind as he paced nervously, trying not to look at his stepsister laying on the couch, half conscious.

"She's not a whore dad," He had said, his voice cool though his blood boiled with rage. How dare he call you a whore, you, sweet and loving Y/N, how dare he even suggest that.

He hears him scoff, hears the lamp in the living room click back on. "She's a whore if I say she's a whore." He says, standing from the chair, his body shadowed by the dim light of the lamp glowing behind him as he stalked closer. "She's probably such a fucking whore that you got her knocked up huh? That's why youve been staying with her, is that it? Hm, Billy?"

Billy clenched his jaw, he couldn't let him talk about you like this. "Shut your fucking mouth." He had growled, his father stopped just before him, stunned by his son's words. He was angered though, he could tell by the way his body tensed and he braces himself for it, the impact of the first closed fisted blow, feel his cheek cut open as his father's ring scraped across the skin. He felt the blood drip down his face and slowly he turns his head to look at his father lips pursed.

"That knock some fucking sense into you?" His father asks, hands raised as if to go again. Billy snaps, he's fucking had enough. Why would he even come back here when he so obviously had a home with you and your family. Fuck, he was stupid for leaving. With a yell he lunges forward, fists flying. He catches the man in the face, connecting with his jaw, and then his eye, trying to knock him down. He trips over the rug in the living room after rushing the man backwards and his father takes it to his advantage, savagely beating his son as he kicks and stomps every inch of him that he can get his foot on.

Billy is curled in, trying to protect himself, he feels something snap in his side and he knows that something is broken. He yells in pain, trying to wrap is brain around how to get out of it, fuck, he didn't want to die this way, and with the way his father was going? He was surely trying to end his life.

He hears a door open, and footsteps come down the hallway. "Stop it!" He hears a voice yell, his father tells them to shut up and doesn't falter in the least on his barrage of kicks, landing a few good stomps to the back of his head. Billy can barely see from the pain at this point and groans. "Leave him alone! You're killing him!"

Suddenly, between his arms covering his face, he catches a glimpse of the long red hair flying, her legs wrapping around his father's waist as she tries to knock him backwards. It works, though only momentarily. The man stumbles, thrashing about as he tries to knock his stepdaughter off. Billy doesn't miss his chance, he clambers to his feet, his body groaning and burning with pain he hadn't felt before, but he stands anyway, tall and proud, arms raised to fight.

After merely a moment, his father knocks the girl off, turning around. Billy hears the sickening sound of his hand connecting with the girls face, smacking her hard enough to send her flying into the coffee table. He could see the blood already, he knew she would have a black eye.

"I told you to stay the fuck out of it, girl." His father sneers, looking down at her menacingly. "Now look at what you've done, guess I need to teach you some respect too, huh?"

Max groans, and Billy knows she's at least conscious. He looks over to her, watching his father turn back to him. "Leave her the fuck alone dad, this is between you and me." He grinds out, looking back at her as she starts to stand. "Maxine, get your ass up and go get in my car..you're not staying here."

He sees the girl stagger slowly to her feet, stumbling to the wall and leaning against it for support. Her upper head was bleeding, she must've hit it on the table. She nears the door, and his father with his chest heaving opens his mouth to yell at her, starting to move towards her. He manages to get his hand in her hair, yanking her backwards before slamming her head into the wall. "Don't you fucki-" He's cut short by Billy connecting with his middle, tackling him to the ground. They crash through the coffee table that Max had landed on, it breaks at the force of their weight, but it gives Billy the upper hand as he connects his fist to his father's face, repeatedly punching the man, one of his hands clutched tightly to his shirt to keep him from moving, he's bought Max enough time to get out.

After a few moments the man is clearly stunned, and Billy stops, letting his head drop as he lets go of his shirt. The man groans as Billy stands to his feet, staggering as he backs away, making his way to the door. "That knock some fucking sense into you, dad?" He sneers, mocking the man as he leaves the living room, slamming the front door closed behind him.

His vision is blurred, and he's unsteady on his feet when he gets into the car, but he looks over at the girl, his little sister as much as he hated it, and he knew he had to go. He reached over, letting his hand rub her hair, she was leaning against the glass, groaning. "You're gonna be okay, I promise I won't ever let him do that to you again..I'm so sorry, Max..so so sorry.." He says, taking his hand away from her head to start the car, punching on the gas to get them as far away as quickly as he could.

"Jesus Christ, Billy.." You breathe, listening to him talk. He looked worse than Max, and your only instinct was to take care of him but you could see how worked up he was over the girl, flinching every time he looked at her. You had El go get you some supplies from the bathroom and kitchen, a damp rag to clean up her face some ice for the bruised eye that was beginning to puff up.

It took only a few minutes to get her taken care of, and shes asleep before you even finish, though you know it's from her injury rather than actual tiredness. You order Eleven to sit with her, to keep an eye on her, tell her what to do incase she throws up before you make your way to Billy, who is still pacing, muttering about how it was his fault.

You step in front of him, and gently you grab his hands, squeezing them in yours and he stops, meeting your eyes. You see the emotion in them, and you can do nothing as you watch them well with tears. God, Billy Hargrove deserved so much fucking better than that piece of shit father of his. "Come, Billy, let's go to my room okay?"

Slowly you make your way to your room. You sit him on the bed, helping him adjust himself so he's leaned again the head board as you climb onto his lap, legs on either side of his thighs as you take his face in your hands, giving him a long, gentle kiss.

His hands go to your waist and you feel his body that was shaking from adrenaline, or maybe fear start to calm. He sighs when you pull away, his eyes closed. You sit up, taking in the damage to his face. You can just barely make out bruising in his hair line, and you hope that his whole head isn't bruised if it was true that his father had kicked him that brutally. His cheek is cut, not horribly deep. It's something you can easily take care of and you take some of your supplies and get to work, Billy's hands still on your waist, gripping you ever so tightly every once in a while.

Once you're finished you straiten up, he opens his eyes and looks at you, almost startled by the movement. He had slowly been falling asleep, your presence and your soothing, gentle hands working on him having lulled him in to a relaxed state. "I'm sorry baby," You say, giving him a small smile. "I need to take your shirt off.." Slowly, gently you raise the hem of his white undershirt, the only thing he had on, and you lift it up over his head and arms that he had helpfully raised for you, despite the pain.

You hiss out a breath, flinching at the sight of his torso. Every inch of his skin was one giant bruise, his entire torso covered in angry reddish-purple marks, more starting to blossom. You ran your hands over his chest and stomach, feeling him tense and grunt at the sensation. "Oh my god, Billy.." You moan, your eyes welling up with tears. How could someone do this to their own child, someone they were supposed to love and protect, to give life not try and take it? You didn't think you'd ever get the answer.

Billy watches you, his heart welling farther with the love that he so deeply felt for you as he watched you fuss and get emotional over his injuries. He knew then that he was really going to marry you, you were the only good thing to come out of Hawkins, you were his future, his reason to live. He couldn't wait to put a ring on your finger, just the thought of it had him going crazy on the inside. "That wasn't exactly the way I planned to have you moaning that tonight.." He smirks half heartedly, trying to ease the tension settling in the room. He didn't like seeing you this upset, especially over him, but he loves that you cared for him that much.

You chuckle, trying to hide a sniffle behind it as you wipe your eyes, bringing your hands back down to his body, this time going gently over his sides. He yells loudly in pain when you just barely brush over one of his ribs. His hands squeeze your hips tightly and he groans as he breathed through the blinding pain brining through his torso. You lean down, getting a closer look. You can just barely make out the break through his skin, nothing that one or two of his ribs were caved in just the slightest bit.

"Holy shit, Billy..he broke them." You say, your eyes welling with tears again. You didn't know what to do, but you knew he wouldnt want to go to the hospital, and you didn't want to take him without your father in case the abusive man showed up. You cleaned him up as best as he could, rubbing some muscle cream over his torso in hopes that he wouldnt be so sore, and after a while, once youve wrapped some large gauze around his middle as tightly as he could without hurting him, to help splint his rib cage, you get up.

"Come on, you ought to lay down, love.." You whisper, taking his hand as you help him slide down into the bed, gently taking off his boots and his pants for him before you cover him up with your comforter. "Let me go get you some aspirin, okay? Helps with swelling.."

You turn to leave but his hand stops you, you glance at him as he pulls you to him, pulling you downwards. He brings his hand up, grunting as he moves his ribs and brings it to the back of your head, pushing you down so that your lips meet his in a slow, passionate embrace. "I love you,Y/N.." He whispers when he pulls away, releasing you as well.

"I love you too.." You whisper back, kissing his forehead every so gently before rushing off to the kitchen in search of aspirin. By the time you make it back, he's already snoring loudly, head turned to the side on your pillows. You watch him for a moment, giving him a small affectionate smile as you set the medicine and water down in the coffee table.

You go back out to the living room. Glancing at the clock. "Dad will be home soon, I'm going to wait outside for him, okay?" You ask, going to start a pot of coffee in the kitchen, pulling your hair back.

"Y/N," You hear your sisters small voice, she was say next to her friend, tears brimming in her eyes as she looked up at you. You smile at her. "What's going to happen to them?"

"I don't know, for right now..they'll stay here, Dad won't let them go back, and I won't let him let them go back..he could have killed Billy.." You say, scooping the amount of coffee grounds you liked into the coffee maker. "He could have killed her, look at what he did with just a smack." You should have had his father taken care of a long time ago, you didn't want to interfere but now you didn't have a choice.

The water starts boiling and you hear it spurt out, watching as it turns the coffee grounds in to the hot, dark liquid you so desperately craved in this moment; you breathed in the aroma.

"Is she going to be okay?" She asks, coming to stand in the doorway of the kitchen as you lean against the counter. She had on a baggy sleep shirt and some sweat pants, she looked tired with her hair a mess. "Will Billy be okay?"

You give her a stiff nod, though you weren't too sure about Billy, he really needed to go to the hospital, you worried some of the bruising might have been from internal bleeding. "They'll be okay, Max will probably just have a bad bruise, maybe a mild concussion.." You say, pouring yourself a mug of the coffee as it stops brewing, blowing on it gently. "Billy..is a lot worse, his entire stomach is nothing but one big bruise..and his ribs are broken, and i think his scalp is bruised."

You could tell your sister wanted to cry, but you walked over to her and held her against your body. "They'll be okay, El, dad isn't going to let them leave." You say, reassuring her.

After a bit you make your way outside, you had put on some sweatpants to help combat the chilly air but the mug of coffee in your hands helped more than enough. You knew it was nearing four thirty, you had called in asked him to come home early and he had asked you to give him an hour. You did tell him why, all you'd said was that it was important.

True to his word, you heard the tires of his truck hit the gravel of the drive and saw his headlights flicker through the bushes. You stood from your position on the steps, raising the mug to your face as he parks the car, looking at him gravely as he gets out of the car.

"What's wrong?" He asks, noticing your face as he grabs his shot gun, he didn't like leaving it in the car. "Who died?..did someone actually die?" You sigh, turning to go up the steps, letting him follow you.

"Someone could have died.." You say under your breath, opening the front door quietly so as not to wake up Billy or Max. Jim sees her instantly, his mouth dropping open as he gives you a pointed look. Eleven sits next to her still, on high alert.

"Jesus, what happened?" He asks, looking down at her sadly. He didn't want to ask, but he had a feeling who had done it. "Is Billy here?"

You nod. "Yeah, and she's in a lot better shape than him." You say quietly, leading him down the hallway. The two of you stop in your open doorway, your bedside lamp the only thing illuminating the small room. Your dad's boots cause the floor to creak and Billy shifts in his sleep, groaning at the sound and the movement.

Jim steps in, inching closer to the bed as quietly as he could. He could see the bruises peeking out of the gauze wrapped around his torso, the cut on his cheek, he could even make out the bruising in his hairline. He turns to look at his daughter, "Jesus Christ, Y/N.." He whispers, looking back down at the boy.

"He broke his ribs, dad..I think he was trying to kill him, both of them..Max tried to stop it." You go into the details that Billy had told you, explaining to him how savagely his own father had beaten, how he had stomped on his head and the rest of his body with as much force as he could. How he had managed to get back up to save his sister, whom he had promised to never let it happen again. You told him the guilt he felt that the girl had been involved in the first place, you told him how he had been shaking in what you thought was fear until you finally got him in your arms, able to calm him down.

He was quiet for a moment, as he looks at Billy and back out towards the hallway. You can tell by the look in his that he's made his mind up about something, and fearing the worst you start babbling immediately.

"You can't send them back, daddy please, he's going to kill them and you know it." You say, pleading with your father to listen to you, tears in your eyes at the thought of having to send Max back, Billy was eighteen, he could do whatever he wanted, same as you, but Max? You were afraid that this opened a whole new world of hurt for her if you allowed her to walk back through the front door of that house.

You father puts one of his large hands on your shoulders, trying to calm you down. "Honey, I'm not letting them go back. It goes against my entire oath of I do." He says and you relax. "Here's what's going to happen, you did a good job, but they both need to go to the hospital so they can document the injuries as evidence against his father, ill call in to the station, get a couple ambulances out here, you're going to go with them, okay?"

You nod vigorously, happy that he saw your logic. Your father may seem like a rough asshole at times, but you knew he had the biggest soft spot in the world when it came to people who needed him, and those two? They needed him more than anything. "What about you?"

He cocks his shot gun with one hand, let a barrel into the chamber, he held a dangerous gleam in his eyes that you weren't totally sure you were fond of. "I'm going to pay Mr. Hargrove a visit."

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

The ambulances came within half an hour, your father had already been gone upon their arrival having called it into the station before heading straight out the door, making sure his pistol and the shotgun were loaded in case Billy's father tried to get violent with him, not that he couldn't swat the man away with a flick of his wrist, but he'd rather have the fire power.

You let them into the house, telling Eleven to go back to her room. They took Max first, she was semi conscious, coherent enough to tell them her name and how old she was when they asked, and where it hurt the most. You watched them move her onto the stretcher and wheel her out, helping the next set of paramedics to your room with the stretcher as they came.

Billy was still passed out when they arrived, and quickly they had determined him unconscious upon trying to rouse him from sleep. One of the men turned to you as you tried to stay calm, what if you had waited too long?

"Honey, can you tell us his name?" He asks gently, stepping closer to you in the doorway as you watched his partner look him up and down, using his hands to check his bones. "Do you know what happened?"

You sniffle, watching tearfully. "His name is Billy, and the same thing that happened to his stepsister, only worse." You said, trying not to cry as you thought about it. "He um..he kicked the shit out of him..his entire stomach is nothing but one big bruise..maybe some of it from bleeding i don't know..his ribs are broken..and his entire scalp is bruising too..he said his father stomped on it." You said, the man nods once, his body tensing at your words. "He's eighteen if you need to know.."

He goes back to the bed to help his partner and they pull down the blankets, his partner points at the gauze around him and looks at you. "You do this?" You nod, hugging your arms to your body. He smiles at you. "Good work, smart girl..you clean up his face too?"

They checked him for a few more minutes before slipping an orange spinal board under him, just Incase his father kicked him hard enough to hurt his spine or neck, before they moved him to the stretcher, fastening him to it.

You see Eleven peek out of her door as they pass and you tell her to stay in her room, that you're going to go with them and to make sure to lock the door behind you as you shove your feet into your sandals and run after them.

The whole time in the ambulance, watching him lay there as they hooked him to different machines and asked you more questions, the only thing that you could think about was how much it pained you to know that he had lived like this, how much you loved him and wanted him to be safe with you and how much you wanted to hold him in your arms forever, you'd never thought about it before but you could definitely see yourself marrying him. You wouldn't tell him that, terrified that it would scare him off.

Everything happened so fast by the time you guys got to the hospital, you sat in the waiting room for a couple of hours, your father eventually joining you just as the sun started to peak high into the sky.

"Any news on them?" He asks quietly, he had changed from his work uniform so you knew he had to have stopped by the house. "Billy going to be okay?"

You shrug, emotional after having been left alone with your thoughts for so long. "He fractured his skull, dad..he's in surgery right now, they said he had a small internal bleed, they're trying to stop it and make sure nothing else is wrong." You choke out a sob, and your father engulfs you in his arms. You stay for a few moments, trying to calm yourself down, you could tell he was angered by the words and you couldn't blame him. "Max has a mild concussion, and he bruised her eye pretty good. She's awake and fine, but they're going to keep her a day or so they said."

"Good, that's good.." Jim breathed, relieved that the younger girl was okay, Eleven had asked repeatedly about her when he had come home to change. "I took care of their father for the time being, i made him pack up all of their clothes and things and then i arrested him, he's down at the station right now, and i dropped off their things at the house." You nod, giving his hand a squeeze as you reached for it, a silent thank you. "Eleven is unpacking Max's stuff, but I thought I'd let you and Billy handle his stuff."

You're about to answer when you're interrupted by a doctor stopping in front of the two of you, hands in his white coat. "Miss Hopper?" You look up at him, eyes hopeful. He gives you a small smile. "Your young man is going to be just fine, surgery went well and we stopped the bleed. He'll need to stay a few days or so to make sure nothing more happens, especially with his head injury."

You smile, happy years running down your face as you let out a choked noise. Your father squeezes your hand. The doctor smiles again. "He's awake, and he's quite insistently asking after you, you may go see him if you'd like, he's in the first room on the left, just around the corner, his sister as well." You don't say a word as you stand and rush to the door, running down the hallway. "To be young and feel a love like theirs.."

You find the room and rush in, moving the small privacy curtain out of your way. He lays in the bed closest to the window, Max in the one by the door. He looks up as you run in and you see his face change immediately as he holds his arms up to you. "Oh my god, Billy I thought you were going to die when they said you were bleeding inside.." You say, blubbering everywhere, your face a mess of tears and admittedly, some snot. "You were in surgery for so long I thought something bad had happened and i started panicking because how can the world take you from me right now?" You didn't know what you were saying, too focused on his hands cupping your face.

Billy made his mind up right then and there. He was going to marry you, maybe not soon, maybe a couple years down the road, but he was ready to ask you. He brushes your tears away with his thumbs, rubbing them under your eyes as you sniffle and try to calm down. He gives you a smile, despite the pain blooming through his body. "Hey, babygirl, im not going anywhere, not yet..you're stuck with me for a long, long time." He says quietly, not even caring that Max was seeing him like this. You nod at him, smiling. "I love you..now, kiss me you goof." You do as told, giving him a long, sweet kiss, though you pull away, trying not to lean on him too much. He sighs. "Now I'm happy.."

You chuckle, wiping your nose before looking over to the left, Max was slowly sliding off the bed, hospital gown tied around her. She shuffled over to the two of you. "Hey, how are you feeling?" You ask, but she goes right past you.

You watch her lean over Billy and engulf him in an awkward hug, her head on his chest as she tried not to press on him too much. Billy looks uncomfortable, unsure of what to do for a few moments but eventually he relaxes and brings a hand up to rub the back of her head. "I'm okay, kid..and it's honestly probably because of you so..thank you, Max.."

You thought the moment was sweet, and you were glad that the two seemed to be bonding, though it bothered you that it took the two of them being beaten to do it. You open your arms for her next, and she squeezed you tight. "Hey, you guys don't have to go back there okay? My dad arrested him, and he packed up all of your things..you'll be staying with us for now.." She squeezed you tighter a minute before letting go and going back to her bed.

You share a look with Billy. "You look tired." He says, a small tug at his lips. "Give me another kiss and then go home, okay? You need to rest.." You don't argue, you're just glad that he's okay. You do as he says, you give him another kiss, a longer one this time and you even give Max a peck on the head too. "Y/N.." You look at him over your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. "..can you send your dad in? I need to talk to him."

Your dad seems surprised, but goes as told. You wait for him in the waiting room, pacing.

Jim makes his way to the room, poking his head in. "You look like shit." He says, stepping in. Billy chuckles, but winces. "Bet that hurts, I'm sorry." He stands in front of the bed, giving a small smile to Max, who is busy trying to figure out the television.

"Sir, I know you probably think it's too soon, and maybe it is, but.." He takes in a deep breath, and Jim puts his hands on his hips, he had a nervous feeling about this. "..I want to marry your daughter.."

@dakotazzzzz @annoyingexboyfriend @ttsbaby01 @rainwritesworld-deactivated2022 @angelbbygrl @peakascum @choclate32 @meltedcandiedacid @variety-fangirl @floreoo @miaivy @gloryekaterina @queenjayrogue @fluffyhairobsessed

#stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things s2 #hopper #billy hargove smut #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove

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that-one-anxious-mango · 1 year

Text

You + Me = US (3) : The Finale.

Summary: In the conclusion of Y+M = US, you awake and finally have a long overdue conversation with Austin, who makes a confession nn of his own.

Contents: Angst if you squint. Crying. Good Ole' hurt and comfort. Major Fluff. A happy ending as promised :) Allusions to childhood trauma.

A/N: Hello Beautiful Humans! I hope you are all well! This is infact the last installment of Y+M=US! Thank you so much for all the love, support, and interaction. It means the world to me that you all enjoy it! Now as some have voted a discussion board about this piece of the Days of Our Love Series is posted along with some guidelines. Thanks for reading!

Much love *hugs*

Arie

P.S Feel free to comment , reblog, or send me a letter :)

Taglist: @wacoshuffle, @purejasmine, @louisejoy86

---

It'd a total of eight hours since you'd been admitted to the hospital, and it had been eight hours of you sleeping the day away.

By now it was almost eight thirty in the evening and Austin was still in his same spot in the hospital church across from your bed, only now he too was sleeping.

In time everyone had came and laid eyes on you and left letting Austin know that if there were any changes or he needed anything, not to hesitate to call them.

But what he truly needed was for you to wake up.

Coming in the room to check on you the nurse made her rounds taking your vitals and such.

Just as she was about to leave the room she looked over to Austin.

She knew that the poor man hadn't left this room much besides stepping in the hall to speak to people. And she figured that somebody has to nudge him to eat something and go for a little walk to get some air.

The nurse smiling walked over to Austin.

" Mr. Butler..." She gently shook him, " Mr. Butler." She tried again successful this time.

Opening his eyes he slowly sat up fully in the chair before becoming alert when he noticed that it was the nurse before him.

" Excuse me. I'm sorry. Didn't mean to nod off. Is everything alright. Is my wife, okay." He questioned eyes darting between her and you, who was still sleeping in your same position.

Still smiling she says, " Oh yes. Mr. Butler everything is quite good. Her vitals are already starting to improve and the baby is doing great." She informed the frazzled man. " No need to worry."

He nodded, "Oh." He sighed, " Good. That's amazing."

" Yes it is. I'm sorry I didn't mean to frighten you. But I know that you've been so dutiful sitting here beside your wife all this time...but and hopefully you won't believe I'm overstepping my boundary, I believe that now may be a good time to go downstairs to the cafeteria and maybe get yourself a bite to eat. " She suggested hoping he wouldn't take offense. " It'll be good to stretch your legs and shake it off. Keep your strength up. We can only help our loved ones get better if we're making sure we still feel good also." She finished.

Austin looked at her taking in what she had said while glancing to you. He wouldn't lie to himself and say that he hadn't gotten a bit stiff and his stomach feel like it was touching his back a bit. And still though, he felt like all those feeling fell to the wayside because of how strong his urge to be near you was.

What was he gonna do if he left and something happened while he wasn't here.

What if you woke up and he wasn't here so you thought he'd just left you.

What if.

It was the same two word combination Austin always encouraged you to try and rid from your vocabulary because of how anxious they made you.

And look at him now being a hypocrite.

Sighing he said, " While that sounds good. What if.." He cringes, " If something happens and I'm not here." He questioned.

Understanding his concern the nurse said, " I know. But I assure you that myself and two other nurses are about ten feet away at the nurses station and will be at her bedside in a second if anything transpires. " She affirmed motioning out through the glass.

Deciding that he did in-fact need to care for himself too he exhaled, " Okay..then. I guess I'll go and grab something. I can bring it up back here, right? " He asked.

She nodded, " Of course that's no problem, Mr. Butler."

Offering the nurse a small smile Austin then got up stretching with a quiet yawn. Walking over to you he ran his hand against the top of your head to lean down and kiss your forehead. " I'll be back baby." He whispered reaching down to grab your hand and rub it before exiting the room along with a nurse that was all smiles.

After about thirty minutes of going down to the cafeteria and having himself a little walk outside to get some air while having a quick phone convo with Ashley T.

Austin had returned with a nice apple chicken walnut salad and lemonade in tow.

When he walked in he glanced at you before going over to the chair to sit down and eat with a sigh.

But unbeknownst to him, you were awake.

You'd actually woken up around thirty minutes ago when you'd felt something touch your hand. When you opened your eyes for the first time and noticed you were alone, you had closed them again. Not sleep, but just resting.

He hadn't gotten two bites into the salad before he was slightly startled by your somewhat hoarse voice, " Well is it good? " You joked.

Immediately dropping what he was doing, in a flash he was kneeled down at your bedside.

" Hi baby. How you feeling? " Austin asked silently hitting the bottom overhead the page the nurse.

He couldn't hide the soft smile that graced his face as he thanked God that you were awake and okay.

" A little funny..but good. " You blinked looking around.

He watched as you tried to slowly sit up but he quickly stopped you, " Whoa, baby.. Hey..take it easy. It's okay just relax." He kneeled down next you running a hand against your head.

Soon the nurse came in who quickly assessed you and let you know that everything was stable and the baby was healthy.

At the mention of the baby you felt your face drain with color at the remembrance that Austin was in-fact in the room, and he knew now. Awkwardly you avoided looking at him until she left you again just before informing you two that the doctor had been whisked away to do a emergency induction but would be by to check on you and your status as soon as she could.

Once it was just the two of you, you started to ask more in-depth questions about what happened.

" So I just all of a sudden passed out? " You broke the lingering silence looking toward your fiancée as you recalled the information just given to you by the nurse.

With a sincere look he responded, " Yes. You were out with Alana and Avery at Lunch. They say you got up to use the bathroom, complained about being dizzy and the next thing they know you passed out and hit the floor. Thank god you didn't hit your head or fall the right way on something else..because babe this could have been way worse than some exhaustion and minor bruising." Austin stated shuddering a little at the possible thought of you having been seriously injured.

" Oh my gosh." You whispered trying to piece the afternoon back together the best you could. But every time you got to the part about lunch things did get a bit fuzzy.

You remember being there, you remember little pieces of conversation, and you could remember seeing the family and the feeling you got...but after that it went..well blank.

" Oh my gosh is right. " He parroted grabbing your ringed hand in his to kiss it and draw your attention back to his serious demeanor, " Do you know how big of a scare you gave me today. Huh, baby? Do you know the thoughts that ran through my head when I got a call from your sister all the way in Texas telling me that the love of my life was unconscious and being rushed to the hospital." He vented having a sense of worry attached to his voice.

You felt terrible.

" Grace knows..." You started.

" Yeah, she does. I've been on the phone with her on and off most of the day. She's trying to figure out some time next week she can move around the come and see you. Says she just wants to lay eyes on you herself." He informed.

Nodding since you knew that sounded like your sister, your mind then wandered to your friends, " Right...Does everyone else know? Did someone call Bea, Phoebs, Lana, Lexie? " You listed your girls.

Oh they know all alright He thought gritting his teeth a little. Part of him wishes he could go into full detail about everything that had transpired today. But he ultimately knew this wasn't the time nor the place to bring such things up when you were still in a semi-delicate state like this.

So instead he went, " Yeah they know. They've been here and gone. Stayed awhile too all of em'. Even Santiago and Sprite were here. I told them I'd give them a update on you...and the baby.. whenever you were awake."

At the mentioned of the baby, you could sense the anxious energy radiating off of Austin that you too shared. You knew he'd had to be dying to ask you so many questions, but for your sake was suppressing those feelings to give you some peace of mind.

His hand shot out to cup and caress your face while turning it so he could get a good look at you.

You carefully leaned into his touch as your eyes watered thinking about all the grief and stress you'd caused this man by the actions you'd made. You felt terrible that you'd kept this from him but at the time your mind had been convinced that it was something to hide.

" Mama.." He started, " Why didn't you tell me? " He questioned. His eyes were pouring into yours now in search of something beyond a simple answer.

" I would've been there for you. I wanted to be there for you." He confessed.

You felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest. The look at his face was so pure and beamed of dedication.

You could tell that he was largely hurt that you had kept this from him by the gaze of his eyes.

" I wanted to but I was scared.." You meekly answered letting tears begin to race down your face. This was it. Your breaking point.

You couldn't hold it in anymore.

“ A-and I-m so-so." You choked out not being able to completely get the words out that were being disrupted by the sobs that came from hoarse throat.

" Shhh. It's alright honey. I know It's okay. I got you."

Cooing at you Austin gently got up from his kneeling position to come around to your bedside and gently shift you over so he could climb in beside you and wrap you in his arms while draping the blanket over you both. Placing a tender kiss to your forehead, Austin continued holding on in efforts to calm you. He was careful to wait to feel your body relax some and breathing slow before he decided to begin softly speaking,

" Now, Y/N I need to be honest with me and know that whatever your choice I support you. But do you wanna have this baby?" Austin bit the bullet and asked holding his breath.

Truth be told he was in love with the idea of you carrying his child, but nonetheless he was in love with you more.

So, he'd support whatever decision you wanted to make, even if it might hurt.

Sitting quiet for a moment while thinking back to all the negative things that had swirled around in your head for the last three weeks.

All the doubts and stress. Worries about how a baby would affect yours and Austin's life, worries about how'd you be as a parent, and overall worries about the experience period.

You almost felt like you shouldn’t be doing this.

But, when you thought back to the little family at the tea shop earlier and how happy they were, and the vision you had of being even happier with Austin and your baby that way.

All the doubts, stress, and worry while still being there felt small...they felt conquerable.

And that realization is what mustered you have the measly courage to be able to say , " Y-yes I do. I really do actually."

At the moment Austin could feel his chest fill with air again and this invisible anchor pulling his heart to the floor release.

That was it, you were having his baby...and he couldn't be happier.

Even, still considering that the choice affected him just as much, you quickly followed up with a question of your own, " But do you wanna have this baby? I mean I know I want to...but at the end of the day this is about both of us." You posed.

You knew Austin was finally getting the recognition for his career he deserved and he was absolutely smacked with so many projects and things. So, you didn't want this to be something that held him back or messed up the plans you'd made together. You'd talked about kids possibly sure, but those musings definitely were imagined further down the line.

Without the slightest hesitation he answered, " Baby...I never wanted something more than to have this baby with you. " He affirmed touching his forehead with yours. " It'd be the greatest honor and joy of my life besides when I become your husband. And that's something you can count on." He declared.

You didn't hide the grin that took over your face at his assertion.

" You mean it? " You asked knowing you shouldn't have but you couldn't help it.

You knew he was rolling his eyes, " Again for the thousandth time, woman. You know I wouldn't lie to you. Of course I mean it! With everything I am.

" Well good. I only ask because I know that your finally starting to get good projects that your invested in and you have career plans and I-" You began to ramble but he stopped you mid way

" Hey look at me. Look me right in my eyes when I say, " He began positioning so that your faces were only inches away from each other and the eye contact was undeniable, " You are pregnant with our baby. OUR BABY, honey. There will never...and I mean never ever ever ever," He emphasized " Be anything more important than you two! " He moved to rub at your stomach.

There wasn't much to see really to the blind eye. But to Austin now since he was finally close enough to see and more importantly feel you, he noticed the slight change around your tummy and it made his heart swell.

" I know you're scared and I understand that it's a scary journey for anyone. But I need you to know there is no one in the world I'd rather want to do this with. To carry our baby and raise them to be just as sharp, kind, and beautiful as their mama. You aren't going to be anything like your mother, you hear me? Because I know that fear is hurdling through you. " Austin held your chin making sure you looked just at him, " You are going to be an amazing mother because you're a amazing human being, babe. And I'll be here everyday God willing to remind you of that."

" So, all the things I've said I need you to get that through our your pretty little head. My babies are my priority and you're going to be a phenomenal mother to our child. You got that? " He questioned needing to make sure he was making himself completely clear.

Body swirling with joy and to your surprise excitement all you could do was truthfully nod.

On cue you felt a soft pinch administered to your thigh, " Y/N...Don't let this new pregnancy brain get you in trouble. Act like you still know what's what. " Austin warned with you knowing that even though he couldn't administer a punishment right now due to your condition right now, he would tuck the reminder in his pocket to bring out later.

Shallowing a breath while squirming a little under his touch you replied, " Yes I got it, daddy."

Smiling he tapped your thigh, " Good. Now give me some sugar before I get up to go and get you and our baby something to eat." He directed.

Not hesitating at his request you leaned in to place a kiss on your mans lips that almost took your breath away when you felt it become needier and needier at the way you both gently grabbed at each other and moved closer wanting to make up for the time lost that you could've been wrapped up with each other.

Quickly Austin had to remember that you were on the mend and needed to take it easy, so he pulled away making you huff and whine at the ghostly feeling of your lips not being on his. He just smiled at you pecking your cheek once more then whispering, " I love you. Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N and soon to be baby butler." He added and you giggled, " Forever, always, and beyond."

Grabbing his hand to interlock with your, " And we love you Austin Robert Butler..soon to be papa butler. Forever, always and beyond."

It was around midnight now and you'd long eaten the food brought in for you. Now the two of you were back together laid up in the hospital bed. One of his hands resting on your stomach while the other was interlocked with yours as you played with his fingers.

Your head was comfortably on his chest, and his on top of your head.

You were just about to allow yourself to go back to sleep when you felt his head leave yours and reposition so he was able to stare at your face.

Opening your eyes, you playfully frowned as you looked at Austin who all of a sudden was looking back at you with a rather large cheshire cat smile like he'd had the most wonderful thought.

" What? " You yawned. " What is it, my sweet baboo? " You tiredly continued.

He still just stared until his casually spoke, " Marry me." He said taking your face into his palm.

You giggled sleepily, " What? "

" You heard me. Marry me? " He repeated leaning in to place a soft kiss to your lips.

When he pulled back you blushed, " I'm sorry Mr. Butler but I'm pretty sure we've been over this bit before dont'cha think? " You flashed you're ringed finger to him.

He laughed, " Of course I remember one of the best days of my life. But ztill, I want us to get married. " He said.

Still looking at him funny you went," Aus, we are getting married what are y-"

" No, honey. I mean as soon as you feel better and get back into the swing of things. I want us to get married, I don- no I can't wait any longer." He expressed rubbing your ringed hand in his.

Taken a back you blinked a little in disbelief, " B- I- Austin what about all the wedding plans we'd started with Beatrice, honey. I mean when I brought eloping up you didn't want to hear really. In fact I remember you insisting we waited." You reminded him of his apprehension to the idea when you brought it up.

Your man was nothing if not traditional in many aspects when it came to your relationship, so it was no surprise to you when he gently shot down the idea and wanted to go ahead with the 'normal pace of things'.

" Yeah that was before when I thought I could be more patient and withstand the months that go into the planning and all to give you the traditional wedding you deserve. But I can't...I need you to be my wife as soon as humanly possible, mama. " He declares. " We can still have the ceremony and everything else as planned." He assured kissing your cheek. " But the sooner your wagon is hitched to mine...the better." He sighed rubbing your shoulder.

Still puzzled your mind allowed itself to wander.

" Austin..is there something in particular that made you all of sudden want to do this...like did something happen?" You mused wondering what could have prompted this idea.

Putting his mouth in a line Austin was tempted to tell you the truth that besides the fact he was in love with you and wanted spend the rest of his days beside you, he also wanted to marry you not only because he detested the fact that today he had jump through hoops to be granted all types of permission for things pertaining to you from other people and as your husband he would be direct next of kin in all situations, but he also couldn't lie and say that Alana words didn't ring around in his head.

He's the fiancée.

Thinking back to the whole situation he could feel himself begin to get upset and he knew that you would pick up on his slightest change in his attitude. So he instead mentally took a beat.

He figured that eventually this would be a conversation later after you were home and well.

" Just..I want you to be my wife and I don't ever want anyone to be able to say different going forward." He stated. " And that's that."

Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you were about to question his mutli layered statement but he stopped you by placing a kiss to your lips.

" Dont....just don't." He quietly whispered rubbing your shoulder.

Searching his face yourself you could tell by the way he tensed and the glossed over look in his eyes that silently told you that he wasn't ready to go where ever the two of you needed to go...you did just need to to leave it alone...for now.

So, instead of prying you smiled , " Alright, fine Mr. Man...when are we going to the courthouse, then." You teased going to hold his face in your hands.

Smiling back so hard you'd think his cheek bones would crack, he leaned in to place a hardy kiss to lips. When he pulled back he spoke in a accent that was all too familiar to you, " You mean when are we going Viva Las Vegas, baby."

#austin butler imagine #austin butler x black reader #austin butler fanfic #austin butler x reader #daysourlove #themangowrites #austin butler

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thekinkyleopard · 6 months

Text

Hallowsneeze

A Sven and Elex Non-Canon One-Shot

Halloween Fic

⚠️content warning⚠️

Domestic Bullying, Aggressive behavior, Snz Fic,

Degradation, Smut

Description: Sven and Elex are celebrating their first Halloween in the new home! Sven is so excited to hand out candy for the trick or treaters and put on a light show. Although, Elex has come down with something foul. Hoping it’s enough to get him out of holiday festivities, he may not need to try so hard when he realizes Sven’s naughty secret.

Author’s Notes: AHHHH IM SO BEHIND AND HAVE STILL 3 MORE??? I THINK??? Send help. I have goofed. LOL I hope you guys enjoy this next Halloween installment! @aller-geez Owns Sven and did the beautiful cover~

Sven was practically floating around the house with a dreamy look on his animatedly excited face. He had decided to go as a lion this year, his current therapist suggested steering into the whole circus trauma, thing. Though he had been trying to run from it, she suggested it would be therapeutic for him to just do it HIS way. Be appreciated through himself and his partner instead of hoping for his father’s approval. She wasn’t entirely wrong, it was giving him a new sense of power. HE was in charge of this show. He hopped around setting last minute decor up, and fiddling with some of the outdoor lighting for tonight’s show. “It’s gotta be perfect,” his furrowed brows and pursed lips pulling on his facial structure.

"SNNNNNDDFFFFFF... FUCK!" The teal and orange haired male looked up suddenly hearing a distress signal, his cheeks bright red as it almost startled him completely out of his skin.

"Elly?" Sven called out curiously, swallowing the lump in his throat before he came to a stand and began to walk his way over to the source of the sound.

"H'uSSHiew! Unngg..." a loud series of thuds suddenly emanating from the room as Sven got closer and closer. What was happening to his boyfriend in there? Eventually he stepped within the frame of the door and took a good look at his lover inside. Elex was slamming his head loosely against the closet door, costume pieces in his hands as he snuffled and groaned.

"El, what the fuck are you doing?" Now suddenly irritated the other man was harming himself, the cheshire walked closer and put his hands on each side of the other's shoulders. "Come on now, what's gotten into you?"

"That god damn dog, he gave me his fucking disease," The dark skinned man turned around now to face his mate with his swollen nostrils, chapped and desperate for moisture that wasn't just, more snot. His whole body felt like a pressurized jar, the moment someone would twist him, POP. There he would go.

"Okay, well, I'm sure it's nothing a little uh..." trying his best to not get distracted by the way his lover's dual colored eyes looked as they swelled and glassed over.

"H'utTSSCHH'iew!" Elex’s mouth expelled a cloud of mistral spit and ick downward toward the floor from where he was hunched helplessly. Lazily, he brought his arm across his nose wiping it.

"Medicine can't cure..." swallowing nervously as his gaze looked the other up and down, almost...hungrily? What's that about? Elex only noticed as he slowly came to a stand, looking over and able to make note of it for a few seconds before he was trying his best to stop the leaking mess escaping his raw nose. Sven quickly reached over for a tissue and brought it up to his boyfriend’s face. “I’ll get you some tea, and soup made up…can you at least though, still dress up? It’s part of the gig….” He asked with a slightly sheepish grin trying not to be too persistent, trying to keep an aura of concern. However, secretly, hoping to see that same prideful man try to manage through and wiggle into the outfit after all.

Sven could only imagine the Badger in his costume, suffering with his reddening, itchy nose…blowing loudly out in front of him, not even bothering to cover... No! He had to shove those thoughts down. He couldn’t make himself obvious, or known. The embarrassment…he shook his head. “SnDdfF… I am dressed ub…ma’ car theef,” almost incomprehensible in speech, Elex turned to slide his arm across his leaking and sore nose once more as his leaking and irritated eyes looked through the other’s orange ones.

“No…in the costume I picked for us, in your hand,” rolling his eyes impatiently while taking mental notes of how cute, and delicious the other looked while melting into a metaphysical puddle.

“Ugh bud…Ion wanna..” the green haired grump practically stomped and threw a tantrum, something he truly didn’t do often but was hoping could pull the other into submission.

“Baby…please? For the children?” Sven pleaded with his boyfriend, trying his best to get him into any sort of holiday spirit.

“Maaaann…fugg dem kigs…sndfF..” Elex grumbled with a scoff, rolling his own orbs into his skull, the audacity. Why should he care about some snot nosed brats who feel entitled to his candy? Screw em.

“For me, then?” The Cheshire trying a different angle looked at his boyfriend with softer eyes, bringing a hand up to cup his clenching jaw.

“Hnnn…….” Wanting desperately to say no, but they both knew where this was going to land with the look in each other’s eyes. Elex folding like a lawn chair and Sven coming out victorious per usual.

“I’ll see ya out there,” ruffling the other’s dampened green locks. Elex did his best to try and scrap himself up off the wall he was using as support but it was proving to be quite difficult. He turned into an puddle as he lay on his back against it, staring over at the opposite wall with a leaking nose and boiling point flesh. This wasn’t a good look…but he did promise. He groaned loudly, lazily throwing himself off the wall, kicking a foot back to give himself extra leverage.

“Whyyyyy….” He grumbled again, before finally managing to shove himself back to his feet and gripping the costume in his hand he turned to look in the mirror. “Dumb…” he snuffled and shook his head at himself in the reflection. As if he was being held at gun point, Elex began to strip his clothes off and slowly, reluctantly, slide on the ones he was being forced into. “HUH’SHIEW!” It slipped out of him as the shirt he was pulling over his head came off. He wiped it across his face before tossing it to the floor and grabbing the costume.

The material slightly itchy, uncomfortable but, he couldn’t say he didn’t look delicious in it as he slowly peeled it onto his body, and tightened it where it needed to be. He looked divine. Well, if he wasn’t practically on death’s door. He sighed, snagged his previous shirt off the ground once more feeling another oncoming tickle run up his throat and down the bridge of his nose, “HDGXNT!” He used the shirt as a tissue, his fevering head aching while he began to wipe his nostrils against it aggressively. The joints clacking loudly while he did so. He was doing everything in his power to drain himself of any residual leakage.

Almost never ending but eventually he threw the shirt back down onto the floor and looked up at himself in the long length mirror behind their bedroom door. “Oh…” he muttered looking at himself again. From the rubbing, his nose was chafed, starting to peel on the outter ridges. The sparse spaces of white skin reddened in the area around, his multicolored eyes sunken in. He looked tragically ill and he couldn’t figure if that was good for the particular day it was, or just bad. Would kids be able to even tell the difference? Or care? Fixing his hair, to the best of his ability, finally, he slid on the Ring master hat that went with his lion cladded partner. “Thid id cheegy,” his sinuses so plugged he still couldn’t speak clearly without a hindering muffle.

Shaking the messy green locks he couldn’t seem to get right, despite being primped, he stormed his way out of the room. He was never going to feel satisfied with what he saw so he figured he wouldn’t waste anymore time crying about it in the mirror. “Habby?” The badger stood amongst the living space that Sven was going back and forth fixing the decor to. The cat turned on his heels, looking slightly up at his partner then down. Fuck. He wasn’t exactly prepared for just how much it would turn him on to see Elex dressed as a dying ring master. Was it the daddy issues? Circus traumas? The messy hair and eye bags with a leaky nose? Who knows. All he knew was he stepped forward and continued to openly ogle his partner like he was stuck in a vicious trance.

“Very….you look hot,” looking back up again he smirked, Elex could only meet the interaction with a blush so deeply red it couldn’t be missed, and an eyeroll so incredibly dramatic one might be offended. Yet, Sven knew better. He knew that despite Elex’s rough exterior, he was incredibly submissive.

“Ok perv…whad you wand me do do…snDdf,” crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest with a crook of his hip.

“Hmm…Uhh,” Trying his best to rack his brain of the things he needed to get done or let alone just would need help with tonight, finding static. No data. Head empty.

“Well? Spid id oud!! Damb!!” Elex getting impatient threw his hands up now trying to wave them back and forth to bring Sven back into reality from whatever frozen land he’d stumbled into.

“I’m sorry, Els, you just look so damn cute right now,” shaking his head and putting his chin in the crook of his thumb and index. The forest haired male rolled his eyes yet again, putting his hands at his hips now.

“And IB the unwell one…” almost sneering over at his partner, he couldn’t help but tease him and shake his hips back and forth. “Ya like dat? Hm?” Sven could only respond in a laugh as his own cheeks flushed brightly.

“You’re being silly, come on now, we gotta pass out …uhm,” distracted as he watched the badger’s nose suddenly twist, and twitch. Crinkling in tight circles, round and round.

“Hnn..huh..” shaking his head back and forth trying to fight it off to let his boyfriend speak. Useless. “hIH’IKTSHhh’uuh!” Elex tried to cover his mouth but didn’t work fast enough as it came flying out of him. A puft of saliva floating amongst the halloween lights of their living room. Sven’s face heated further, he cleared his throat.

“Bless…you…I’m gonna, grab the uh…candy,” he blinked a few times trying to physically push away his growing thoughts as he watched his partner explode out right in front of him. Elex looked up, and he saw it, though a glimpse, that familiar sparkle of hunger behind the Cheshire’s eyes was unmistakable to the badger. Could it be? He wondered as he cleaned himself up the best he could.

Sven left the space and walked into the kitchen, trying his best to get himself under control. “Fuck…what’s wrong with me?” Not completely aware that it was the other’s explosive yet sweet sneezes that was bringing him to his knees. Trying his best to focus on ripping the giant bags of miscellaneous candies, and dumping them into a bowl. Yet, it was following him like a cold, fast traveling ghost.

“HeH’eHDtsh! hIH’IKTSH!…Sev….” He heard the echoing sounds of his boyfriend sneezing as he came down the hall, the sounds only getting louder as the delinquent audibly slucked up the wet filling threatening to spill from his sinuses. Sven swallowed deeply. The badger stumbled into the kitchen and slammed his hands on the counter at the opposite side of his smaller mate. “SVEN!” He furrowed his brows and slurped a pool of spit gathering from under his tongue, down his throat.

“Yes, El?” Trying to keep his composure as calm as he could he also attempted to splash an air of annoyance around it while fumbling with the bags of treat.

“Cad….cad you helb me?” He whimpered rather quite pathetically, catching the Cheshire almost completely off guard.

“Help you with what, Elly?” Now softening his demeanor to consider his boyfriend was actually in fact possibly suffering at this current moment. He stepped closer he reached out to brush a few strands from the other’s deepened features.

“Helb?” He asked almost uncharacteristically gently, his hand reaching up to give the cat a tissue. Sven took one look at the other’s offering and realized just what his partner was asking now. Oh no. There’s no way he could get through something so intimate without revealing a secret. Was nothing sacred??

“Oh…uh…I don’t know about that El….” Hesitating as he stepped back with that same, embarrassed look on his face he usually made whenever Elex was pressingly flirtatious. Ah, so it was true. The badger thought to himself as he watched the other play coy. He’d get it out of him one way or another.

“Pleade? For me? I can’d do id…the germbs…I promide to hand oud candy afder…if you helb~” he sniveled and pouted while glassy brown and mint eyes stared down at the weakening Cheshire. With a hesitant grunt and a shaking hand, the cat took hold of the mulched paper and half crumbling it in his palm brought it up to the other’s nose, loosely at first. Averting his orange orbs away from the other’s, his face practically lit a flame. “Don’d loog away…” the badger grumbled furrowing his eyebrows downward.

“I can’t look at you…” Sven practically whispered, afraid of what might happen if he didn’t use every last strain of his energy to hold himself back. Between the tissue weakly tickling his nostrils, instead of holding them tightly, the taller began to hitch again. Finding this to be less helpful if the cat couldn’t face him.

“B-huh…ut…h’uhTSSCH! God damnb id…LIGE YOU MEAND ID!” He swiftly grabbed Sven’s hand around his own nose and forcibly squeezed, rubbing in circles as the mess leaked onto the softening, now moistened piece of mulch. Relieved he wouldn’t have to touch it himself.

“E-Elex!” The Cheshire suddenly snapped, moving his gaze quickly over to look at the other, immediately frustrated by the badger’s outburst and overstepping their dynamic. “Don’t just take over like that,” he almost growled, as much as he could trying to remain stoic with his bratty boyfriend. He couldn’t deny it was working for him though, between the attitude, the vulnerability and the raging cold there was no way he could hide the obvious.

“Yeah? Mage me stob den..Aren’d you in chaaaaardge? Hm? Probe it,” The Badger now smirked with confidence, oozing with a new found cockiness that threw off the Cheshire, if only a few moments before he was starting to realize that the previous masking had been pointless.

“W-what?” Almost thrown off by the other’s challenging behavior. Oh so he wanted him to assert his authority did he? Cheeky fucking street rat.

“Probe Your— H’TSCHH! —in chardge …-say you, Cold fugger?” The badger repeated himself trying not to let the sneeze detract from the current aura of control he held. He knew Sven’s secret. It was obvious to them both now. Yet, any fantasy of being in charge of this situation was taken back as the cat angrily shot a hand up to grip the other tightly by his thin, darkened throat.

“You’re so fucking smug…this is why I didn’t wanna say anything…you think you can just use it against me,” pushing the other up now against the kitchen counter, his leg between Elex’s. There were random rings at the doorbell, and the chime of small children in unison, but neither could be bothered to attend the trick or treating station. Leaving them open to neighborhood criticism later, but who the fuck cares?

“Yeah? Too fuggin’ bad, huh? You gotta stop keeping secrets,” Elex smirked licking his moistened lips, his elongated teeth sparkling under the kitchen lighting.

“I’m going to punish that putrid fucking mouth of yours,” the badger fully under his skin now, just like he always managed to do. Sven’s gaze unable to be taken off the other’s swollen, glazy features. They were almost too delicious as he could only hope to see him get worse.

“Mm don’d threaden me with a good dime,” pushing his hips down into the cat, body desperate for any sort of friction as the grip on his throat tightened and his cock responded appropriately.

“Oh, never a threat my sweet boy…I only make you promises,” throwing his tented front into the other, grinding themselves together in a slow fashion. “But since you know my secret…I guess I can stop being subtle about it,” bringing his free hand up, his index finger came around to tickle the other’s twitching nostrils.

“Bu-d…you-r hand…” the forest haired male struggled and strained against the prickling that germinated through out the inner nerves of his nose.

“Sneeze through it…I know you can,” Sven replied coldly, his gaze locked on the ever so slight twitch of Elex’s upper lip and corner nostril. The involuntarily way it jumped…the cat swallowed deeply.

“Hu’—H’IKTDXT!” Tossing his head forward as the mess hit the other’s palm, the flesh of it now wet with Elex’s sick as it glistened under the kitchen lights.

“You can do better than that,” barely giving the badger any room to actually release, tormenting him. Sven’s body just pressed closer into the male as his index wiggled rapidly.

“H’DGNXT!! I—“ interrupted quickly by another loud hitch, like a small goblin stealing his sound as he tried to sneeze through being choked. Truthfully though, unable to retaliate due to the current circumstances of his situation.

“Tsk tsk, I thought you were stronger than that, huh?” The Cheshire’s lips pulled up into a confident, side smirk, realizing that even if the bully knew his secret, he was currently in the position of control here.

“Fu—k…y..H’GXT! H'utTSSCHH’iew” Despite his best efforts his body betrayed him through his spiteful comeback of trying to let the other know just how he felt about his inability to defend his reputation and honor. A sniveling, leaking, swelling mess under his partner’s hands instead.

“My pleasure to,” twisting the other around rapidly in one swift motion and quickly flinging him over the counter his hand finally releasing the other’s neck but now gripping a full hold onto green locks while his free hand worked to aggressively pull down Elex’s pants.

“Hey! H’uSSH’hhiew!” Unable to get a full thought out before his sinuses were working aggressively against him, pushing a gust of salivic dust across his own chin and hands, he grumbled weakly after. His fingers tightened against the counter grout while his partner violated him.

“What? Why protest now? You pushed me to get us here, did you not?” He purred seductively into the badger’s sensitive ear, causing the other to shudder and let out an involuntary whimper.

“I-I didn’d expeg you to ged so…persisdand…snnddff…” Elex smirked behind him, pushing his now exposed bare bottom against Sven’s growing and still clothed bulge. The cat’s head fell back for a few seconds, orange orbs rolling into the back of his skull as he enjoyed the slice of pleasure. He didn’t mean to give into his innate desires but god damn did the other bring it out of him.

“Me ??? You’re the one throwing that slutty dripping nose around and openly sneezing into our shared space…in costume no less,” grunting almost angrily, as if they both somehow didn’t contain any ounce of self control in this household.

The Cheshire was past his point, the cat was out of the bag, would Elex possibly use this against him in the future? Absolutely. To get a head of it, he had to make sure he reminded the Badger who’s really in charge here. “If you had,” thrusting his bulge in between El’s cheeks, attempting to rub and tease his mate’s hole. “Any idea what you were doing….”

“I mighd…snDf…h’hih…SShhiew! If I could ged dhis cold under condrol…” he snarfled loudly trying to clear his sinuses but they were just overflowing. His head ached, pounded, body on fire for more than one reason. His thoughts didn’t make any sense and all he could focus on was the pleasure to hurl him away from the throbbing in his head.

Normally he was much quicker with come backs, light on his feet, sassy. Yet between the constant burning in his throat and build up wishing to be loosened, and Sven teasing him, he was completely losing his sense of self.

“Look at you…a mindless moldable pile of goo…you can’t even be a pain in my ass in this state,” he almost snickered maliciously, yet left it at a sneer, and instead started undoing the buttons on his pants.

“Ye-yeah? Wh-whadd’you know? Hm? SNdfff..” the beat red badger retorted back looking behind his shoulder to watch Sven’s hands work quickly at the cloth keeping them apart.

“Oh? I know enough that you’re willingly bent over this counter practically in heat waiting for this dick to be inside you,” licking his teeth as his orange eyes hungrily consumed Elex’s vulnerable position, trembling legs spread with pants halfway down them.

“Well…I mean…I didn’t hab mugh a choide…” the taller smirked at his lover, managing to maintain an energy of seductive mischief while he was still being a smart ass, despite that his body felt like it really could give way any moment. His flesh hot, and his nostrils delicately twitching through each passing second. Yet his body betrayed the words he spoke and Sven could only shake his head with a chuckle.

“Oh? So you won’t beg for it then?” He raised a curious brow, considering the nature of his cock hungry boyfriend, he doubted it. He was willing to put his whole soul on it, fishing his length out of it’s containment.

“No…?” The brown and green eyed male avoided looking back at the other’s skeptical gaze, trying to prove a point, Sven wasn’t sure even Elex knew the point was trying to make. He just knew he was trying to fight off the intrusive need to desperately bounce himself against the other’s now exposed length and also, not pass out. Between adrenaline and fever, everything felt very fast around him. His blood felt like it was gushing through him at 60 mph.

“I think I can get you there,” Sven noticed how quickly and suddenly Elex tried to reserve himself, as if that would give him any sort of leg up in this. Sven gently pressed himself between the crack of his lover’s cheeks.

“Yeah? Bet,” the dark skinned man shuddered weakly, biting his lower lip but still challenging himself to stay clean from begging any further.

“If I win, I not only get to cum deep inside your ass, but you have to wait to cum until after handing out candy, and the light show,” now giving out his side of the ultimatum. They made bets like these all the time. Sven was usually much better at finding out which bets were worth his while enough to participate. AKA which ones were easier to come out victorious.

“If I win, you make ME cumb and cader do my deeds, and I ged do ditshh the kids,” as Elex looked behind him, the two made eye contact and this act alone seemed to solidify their deal. Neither of them ever capable of having any moment that wasn’t a competition between each other.

“You’re an absolute pill, but you’re on, because I already know what needs to be done,” Sven starved off a serious chuckle, but he was incredibly confident he was going to get the other cracked like an egg in no time. It was already in his grasp.

“Whad do yo—“ the dark skinned mate cut off by Sven who leaned in and latched his mouth onto the space just under the badger’s ear, causing the man to freeze completely, his body turning rigid. “W-wa-i….” His legs trembling before the cat took a deep and painful bite into the side of his boyfriend’s soft tender flesh, gripping it, small lines of crimson spilling down his skin. Elex cried out, digging at the stone material under his chipping nails. Subconsciously his hips rolled into the shorter who could only smirk behind the grip his fangs had on the badger. Slowly his hands traveled down the other’s dark and spotted skin.

“See?” Though slightly muffled behind the grip his mouth had on the other, his hands had dipped below the delinquent’s waist to feel Elex’s twitching length, teasing it with feather light touches before ripping away. “Loog ah tha, so needy..” he muttered behind the badger’s bleeding flesh, who could only tremble in response. His arms finally came up, like a backpack almost, he gripped the badger’s shoulders. Using the new leverage to pull him down onto his own rock solid length, grinding the two of them together, there was a collected moan.

Sven slowly increased his speed inch by inch, just sliding his hardened cock across the other over and over as his teeth continued to pressurize, and depressurize. Elex already in a weakened state of being snuffled while whimpering loosely and despite wanting to let this all be over with, and give in, he found himself fighting against two forces of pressure.

If he wasn’t being squashed under the weight of this inconsistent cold, he was wishing Sven was full length deep inside him. Yet he didn’t want to look weak for begging. Although as every second passed it sounded less and less emasculating. “Hnn…Hh’Uh’kSshiW!” He spat again as the sneeze rolled over his wet, plumped lips. He wanted to give in, but caving under the bet within 40 seconds of making it, just felt so fucking pathetic he almost found it paralyzing.

“I love that sound…you’re so sexy when you’re all stuffy, and sneezy…I just want to fill you up and take good care of you,” the cat purred into Elex’s bruising, bleeding flesh, still leaving large, painful nips all across his shoulder there.

“Perv…ert” Elex could only gasp as his body continue to rock involuntarily against his stubborn wishes. He wanted to be petty, pull away, fight the other off, but he was so weak, so easily manipulated in this current state of being. Sven began to up the ante and slid the tip of his length just past his cheeks to rub tenderly at his mate’s puckered entrance. “Oh fuck—ing shit…” hoping if he could just push back enough…

“Aht, cheater,” Sven smirked calling the badger out on his sneaky behavior before yanking him back by his hair, one hand still gripping an ass cheek to keep it spread apart. “Go on, I know you want to, let’s stop playing these games…beg for it,” hissing low from within his throat. Idk new the other was just being stubborn. He loved that only he knew what buttons to press.

“N-n…” already starting his protest..but being interrupted by something much darker than that. As he wanted to push his luck essentially, he suddenly found another sneeze brewing under the surface of his tickling throat. Bubbling up like a fish unwanted in his esophagus.

“Elex Parker,” the Cheshire commanded at first with a very serious, flattened tone. However, when he didn’t receive anything back he looked over to see his boyfriend struggling with a forcible hitch. Jaw slacked open, tongue pulsating in and out of his mouth before soon, he couldn’t contain it.

“H’H'utTSSCHH’iew!” Elex snuffled loudly afterwards, scooping up as much snot and sick back into his body as he could to avoid it making a mess upon the counter. Despite the fact there was a patchwork of spittal spots about.

“Absolutely delightful….but still not what I want…come on, baby, let’s hear it,” the cat leaned in closer to speak the words directly into the other’s ear drum. Elex, despite his protests, couldn’t hold back as he lightly shuddered against the hot air hitting sensitive flesh.

“No..” he sucked in the word, along with his lower lip while he felt his wavering strength slowly give way. He wasn’t going to be able to resist, was he? No…because the more Sven worked to tease him, the more Elex’s imagination ran wild. Knowing full well they were in this particular situation because he had picked on the fact, that he wasn’t the only one attracted to a sick partner. The badger was aware of the slippery slope he was standing on when he made the bet, but didn’t realize how weak he would look..so rapidly.

“Don’t be be like that…” the Cheshire purred mischievously, teeth nipping and grazing across the softened flesh of the green haired man’s flushing ear.

“Hnn..f-fuc…k…okay…pleade…,” he couldn’t withstand it any longer. Seriously? His ears were one of his biggest targets, his Achilles heel…Sven knew it and used it to his advantage every single time, it was almost a curse for the taller bottom.

“Please, what?” Just barely gusting the words above the other’s ear canal, feeling the badger’s body twitch under him.

“Fuc….k…me..” he was almost exhausted, the words came out like broken up static, like he’d ran a full mile within a second and didn’t have time to register. Panting, vigorously, unstoppable as his half lidded eyes slid to the side, trying to get a look at his sadistic partner.

“I can’t hear you, so sorry, what was that?” Trying to play off the role that he was not aware nor capable of tormenting anyone, let alone the love of his life.

“God damb it, Sben FUCG ME!” The impatience that started to bubble up and over take the man pressed against the counter was leaking out into their conversation. This caused the sadist cat to chuckle just barely before his next turn of phrase came out as cold as icicles.

“Why should I?” The silence that filled the room afterwards was thick, one was going to need the sharpest knife to cut through it.

“Pleeeeeade…” it came out in a high pitched whine, almost out of character as Elex could hardly contain himself any longer, tossing the winnings out the window. He backed into the other just hoping to feel anything besides miserable, knowing full well that once he had Sven’s length massaging his walls, there would be some sort of silver lining.

“I don’t know….” The shorter boyfriend chewed on his lip while his orange gaze ran up and down his counterpart’s perfectly spread body, hands exploring, clawing and sliding over it. “I’m not convinced…” clicking his tongue before his hands became nothing but a whisper, and his cock a memory pressed against him. Sven’s body just standing a heated inch away from Elex’s flesh.

“SBEN…I need you…” feeling empty suddenly as the other stood back and away. This was mean. Cruel. Crueler than he had ever been to the cat. “Baby…I’b begging you…” it truly almost sounded like the badge might actually cry, finally, his defeated, lidded and glassy eyes looked behind him to meet with Sven’s triumphant gaze.

“That’s my good boy…assert your feelings, and toss the competition,” the streamer snickered as his hands roughly clawed down the other’s sides to his rear end now, pushing his cheeks apart. The badger could only roll his eyes back while he turned into a puddle upon Sven touching his body once more. Like being splashed with cold water on a scorching hot day. Relief. The cat looked downward long enough to spit a large amount of saliva down against the top of his cock that dripped onto the badger’s hole.

“Ahh~ hnn…~” Elex twitched and whimpered, and before long Sven was able to shove his waiting, wanting cock inside of Elex’s tightened entrance, both of them grunting through clenched jaws as he was filled.

“Never get tired of being inside you….” The aqua and ginger haired male grunted through his tightened teeth.

“I god-…da…sn-Ee…” Elex hesitated and panted through each snap of Sven’s taut and energetic hips. Trying to warn as his body spasmed and stuttered to hold the dribbling snot from his nose and the prickle of release threatening him.

“Please do, I wanna feel you tighten around me…” sliding his palms up and under Elex’s ring master shirt that was still on his body, to tickle the badger’s delicate spine, flattened hands slipping up and down goosebumped flesh. Whilst he continued to push and shove his way through the delinquent’s ass.

“H’…” trying to focus on giving them both what they wanted, but he was so relaxed by the cat’s fingers and palms that the feeling almost subsided away. Spoiler alert, he wouldn’t be so lucky to be cured by gamer cock. No. Instead his body lurched forward violently against the counter, his palms skidding against rough grout and shredding the first layer of flesh. “Heh’EhDTSHhiew!!” It sprung him forth, another layer of spit could be seen in the thin shred of light above them, a line of snot trickling down Elex’s face. He quickly nudged his nose against the fabric of clothing against his shoulder successfully smudging it off his face before his forehead fell against the counter.

Sven watching it all unfold, couldn’t help but fight off a large shit eating grin. It felt so good around his aching dick, the way Elex’s ass tightened quickly and released during the sneeze. He wanted to throw his head back with the largest smile. But he swallowed it. He had to. A grin that big could cause him to disappear and he wasn’t trying to ruin the moment. His lips fell, and his brows furrowed, he snapped forward like all reserve was missing and there was nothing, or no one holding him back. Cause there wasn’t. His cock snapping in and outward, hands keeping him steady with each palm gripping tightly to Elex’s tanned cheeks. “You-…would find a way….to distract me this holiday….” Clenching his jaw, chastising the male below as those tightening walls kept driving him further into insanity.

“I—…” normally he wasn’t so stumped but the badger was so hot for his feline mate that he found himself speechless to retort. “Oops…” was all he managed, causing the cat to hiss almost soundlessly. Bringing one hand up and cracking it back down against Elex’s tight cheek, the male yelped.

“Oops is right….just you wait…” licking his teeth he released the badger’s ass cheeks only to slink his hands up and around Elex’s neck, both palms interlocking together around the taller’s throat. Now using this, as a form of leverage while the green haired male gasped between thrusts. “Fuuuck..that’s gonna make me cum,” grunting past his foul response, the other eagerly shoved his ass backward into Sven’s lustfilled pounds. “Look at you go baby…even when you can’t breathe you still want it…” breathlessly chuckling as a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.

Elex was fully drooling down the right side of his mouth, cold? Fever? Sneezing? Who? Gone. Illness was misplaced in another dimension because all the badger could focus on was the way his face felt like it might pop if he didn’t get air soon, and also, how badly he wanted to feel Sven’s hot seed overfill him. His nose and mouth leaking fluids while his hips worked to match each stuttering thrust the closer Sven got to the edge.

“Are you ready? Hm, my degenerate little slut? I’m going to fill your hole…” it was almost a miracle either of them could get any coherent thoughts out, let alone sentences but Sven managed as his orgasm built up through him, causing his legs to tremble as he inched closer.

“I—“ The badger stammered weakly, his vision blackened on the edges with Sven’s hands still tight around his neck.

“Hm? Are you?” Knowing full well it was almost impossible for the other to speak but, he’d seen him escape worse scenarios. Plus the cat loved pushing him past his normal limits. How far could he stretch his favorite toy?

“Ye—s…” The dark skinned male choked as his duo colored eyes rolled into the back of his head.

“Yes what?” Sven practically spat through a tightened jaw, fingers squeezing impatiently as he drove himself inward to assault and pound at Elex’s prostate.

“Yes…..Sir…!” Whimpering behind the lack of oxygen, his words still escaped and it was enough to send shivers down the cat’s entire nervous system.

“That’s right…” blowing his load inside the badger, but as quickly as he did, he couldn’t relish in it for too long, couldn’t give in. They had made a deal. A bet, and Sven had won. Quickly he pulled his spent length from the other’s puckering, and leaking entrance, the cat yawned and while tucking himself away, stepped back. “Man, that was fucking awesome…ready to hand out candy?” Clapping his hands together loudly once he was all put together again.

“Wh-what?!” Elex shot a look behind himself, legs still spread apart with his pants around his ankles.

“Did you…forget the bet we made? You begged me for cock…ergo , handing out candy,” his hands flattened and moved about in a display from between the two of them and toward the bowl of candy on the counter.

“You’re not even going to—“ quickly cut off as Elex was starting to slowly turn around and come to the realization that, Sven was dead serious in his convictions.

“Sometimes I think we should get you checked for memory loss,” shaking his head back and forth, the cat now crossed his arms over his chest to get a good look at the mess that was his sniveling, wet boyfriend.

“Mem— YOU ASS! I didn’t think you were serious!” Quickly, his cheeks flushed in a brightly embarrassed blush, snatching his pants and pulling them back up over his waist, almost with complete offense.

“Oh so if you had won, would you still be thinking I wasn’t serious??” Sven tilted his head, raising a brow, did the Badger really play him for a fool? So bets only count if he were to have won? Not in this household.

“How was I EVER going to win in that position!?” Elex tossed his free hand up with exasperation as his other made quick work to button and re-zip his pants again.

“You’ve managed you’re way out of prison twice, I would assume…” lifting an index finger to interrupt the excuse but finding himself shortly cut off in the heat of it.

“Different situations, COMPLETELY!” Narrowing his different colored eyes toward the stubborn cat he was suddenly extremely irritated with. How dare he! He was supposed to be at HIS finger tips! How’d it get turned around? This wasn’t the original plan!

“Oh stop your whining and come be apart of the holiday fun,” Sven tried to lighten the mood with a wink, stepping closer to wrap his arm around the other’s thin waist, reaching up to kiss under the heated badger’s jaw. “I’ll nurse you back to health after, ok?” Pulling away slowly, he now took both his hands and scooped them under the candy bowl. He began crossing his way out of the kitchen to open the front door as the bell chimed throughout the house.

“This is bullshit….” Elex grumbled now to himself, this was complete and utter stupidity because he..thought he had a sure fire way out. If not just being sick in general, but having seduced the other….man…this was worse than the American justice system. Somehow he went in fully confident and fucked worse than any state, county or country could.

“Trick or treat!!!” The children echoed from the hall as Sven opened the front door to be greeted with many different masked faces.

“Happy Halloween!” The cat cheered at them, leaning forward to give them free range of the bowl, some taking one, a few taking handfuls or even just a couple a time. The badger sighed, realizing that maybe, he didn’t have to hate Halloween this year. Sure, he felt like garbage now that the ecstasy and adrenaline had worn off, but truthfully, he needed to make new memories over the old ones. So he dusted himself off, cleaned himself up, blew his nose, took a shot of Dayquil and managed to put his best foot forward at having a better holiday spent, with his best friend and soul mate.

The End

Author’s Notes: Beep Boop I’m unmedicated so it’s taking a while to be motivated to write but ayooo I’m here! I did it! 3rd Halloween fic for the month! Unclear if I’ll be able to do every couple this month before it’s November but imma still try! I hope you guys are enjoying them 🥺 written feedback means the world to me and motivates me to write more/faster. Appreciate you guys and your patience 🫶🏻🥰

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tortured-gaylor · 1 day

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from the journal of ava: but daddy i love him notes

according to swifties, this is a little mermaid reference: she gave up her voice to be with the man she loved

idk i haven't seen the little mermaid since i was 5, i'll take their word for it

i just learned these people only raise you to cage you

links back to who's afraid of little old me?: "you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me"

growing up famous, she was never able/allowed to just be or do what she wanted. this is also made clear in the miss americana documentary. seems like scott especially tried to keep her quiet and caged

she has used cage imagery often throughout her career in music videos and visuals (look what you made me do music video, the shadows in the visuals during the midnights set at the eras tour, the speak now ornament, the glass cage in the willow music video,...)

the spotify library installation also had a cage, but the birds were free on another shelf

sarahs and hannahs in their sunday best, clutching their pearls sighing "what a mess" i just learned these people try and save you cause they hate you

this seems to allude to religious people being homophobic. they try and "fix" you by praying for you

she's the odd one out, doesn't fit in with the norm (the sarahs and hannahs)

they slammed the door on my whole world, the one thing i wanted

again with the controlling

is the muse the whole world? is it simply freedom? or is it something else entirely?

now i'm running with my dress unbuttoned, screamin' "but daddy i love him"

like the love story music video

song themes are similar to love story as well with the disapproving father

i'm having his baby... no i'm not but you should see your faces

GAGGED

you should have indeed seen my face

dutiful daughter, all my plans were laid

idk what to tell you

it's queer

her parent (likely her dad) planned her whole life out for her and she fulfilled this "destiny", even if that life doesn't suit her

tendrils tucked into a woven braid

links back to seven: "your braids like a pattern"

the saboteurs protested too much

homophobes

lord knows the words we never heard, just screeching tires and true love

links back to getaway car

this could mean words of acceptance, likely from the church(goers) again

i'll tell you somethin' 'bout my good name it's mine alone to disgrace

she's done being sheltered and ready to make her own decisions, decide who she is all by herself

god save the most judgmental creeps who say they want what's best for me sanctimoniously performing soliloquies i'll never see, thinking it can change the beat of my heart when he touches me and counteract the chemistry and undo the destiny you ain't gotta pray for me me and my wild boy and all this wild joy if all you want is gray for me, then it's just white noise and it's just my choice

this is her saying people have no business being all up in her relationships. they seem to think they have the moral upper hand and get to decide what's best for her, even if they don't know her or her partner at all

she pulls an uno reverse on them by asking god to save them, just like they did for her

this could mean she's gonna love who she loves, despite what the world wants/expects from her

this calls back to the people "saving" her cause they hate her (so homophobes again)

this is a reach but did they try to strip her of her pride colours and she finally decided to ignore these very loud voices?

scandal does funny things to pride but brings lovers closer

✨ shared trauma ✨

for real though, scandal could be her being outed by whatever tabloid

forced her deeper in the closet, but closer to the (also closeted?) muse

we came back when the heat died down

the scandal forced them to keep a low profile for a bit but they came back (stronger than a '90s trend?)

went to my parents and they came around

reminds me of That™ miss americana scene

also reminds me of how the dad in love story eventually came around

time, doesn't it give some perspective?

there's something in this line but i'm not sure what

#but daddy i love him #the tortured poets department #ttpd #taylor swift #gaylor #lgbetty #friends of dorothea #gaylor theory

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cursedonyx · 12 days

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Professor Fig Adopts the Emerald Trio (Part 2)

The second instalment of an AU in which Professor Fig has survived, and has adopted Sebastian, Ominis and Dracaena.

Part 1

Sixth year begins and with it comes the NEWT preparations. Fig discusses with the Trio what careers they might take, and tries to help Ominis begin to process his childhood trauma. Sebastian and Dracaena end up in possession of contraband.

Word Count – 5.7k

Warnings – Mentions of childhood abuse (Ominis) | Contraband (drugs)

The summer of 1891 was an enjoyable affair for the Emerald Trio. Dracaena, Sebastian and Ominis spent most of their days taking full advantage of the mostly empty castle, exploring every nook and cranny and delving into places they were more than certain they shouldn’t be, before retiring for the evening and having dinner with their new guardian, Professor Fig.

Dracaena took the opportunity early on in the summer to show them all, including Fig, the Room of Requirement, revelling in the praise heaped upon her by her mentor and her best friends for all she’d done with the space. It became a retreat of sorts for her and her best friends, a far warmer and more comfortable hidden spot than the Undercroft, which they visited only on rare occasions (and mostly when hiding from Peeves). Fig didn’t come into the Room all too often, telling the trio that it was their space, and he’d only enter if he needed them for something that couldn’t wait. That didn’t stop him enjoying his frequent invitations, particularly enjoying spending time with the beasts Dracaena had acquired during her adventures, and bonding with the Phoenix that she had named Miriam.

But time marched on, and summer eventually came to a close. The other students came back, and word quickly spread that the three were now cared for by none other than one of their own Professors. Some muttered irritably that they were now protected from consequences, and others tried to test the waters by teasing and attempted hexes, but they were dealt with as Sebastian, Ominis and Dracaena had always dealt with irritants. Swiftly and without mercy, which landed them all detention before the first week of term had ended.

The weekend arrived, and Dracaena lounged on one of the sofas in the Room of Requirement, her feet propped in Sebastian’s lap, occasionally tickled as he turned a page of the book he was reading. Ominis was tending to a large Flutterby bush he’d been cultivating all through the summer, and Professor Fig was seated at an elegant desk, marking homework. Deek swanned around, a smile on his face as he offered them all tea and biscuits, the light pattering of his feet accompanying the gentle music piped from a magical gramophone.

With a light sigh, Fig placed the last essay onto the pile and leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face as Miriam the Phoenix ruffled her feathers from the perch behind him. He eyed the three Slytherins, one corner of his lips lifting and pulling out a touch. His charges. His kids. His smile broadened, and he decided to disrupt the soft peace by clearing his throat.

“I think we all need to have a little chat,” he said, fighting to make his expression stern as all three of them stilled, throwing guilty looks to each other, Ominis doing a remarkable job of it, all things considered. He let the silence hang a long moment as they turned to him, then he chuckled.

“About your future careers,” he clarified, smirking like a schoolboy as his adopted charges all uttered various sounds of relief and irritation at his little joke.

“Merlin’s arse, Elly!” Dracaena said, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. “You made me think we were in for a bollocking!”

He chuckled, warmed by the freedom with which she now spoke to him, her comfort with his presence obvious. The lads weren’t quite so informal, but that would come with time. At least they all still called him ‘Professor’ when they were around the rest of the school. He waved a hand, and the three gathered in front of his desk, conjuring their preferred chairs and settling before him.

He clasped his hands and leaned forward with a smile. “So, any thoughts on what you want to do once you’re finished with Hogwarts? I know the careers advice of last year might not have sunk in with all you endured.”

Dracaena was the first to answer, ever eager and certain of herself.

“I thought being an Auror would be good,” she said.

“Yeah, I thought about that too,” Sebastian agreed. “Or maybe a cursebreaker, or research, or something like that.”

“Marvellous ideas,” Fig said, turning to Ominis. “What about you?”

He gave an elegant shrug. “I’ve no idea.”

“Surely you must have some thoughts?” Fig pressed.

Ominis twisted the corner of his mouth. “Nope,” he replied, his hands tightening in his lap.

Sebastian and Dracaena shared a significant look at this oddly colloquial word, and Sebastian cleared his throat.

“You know, I’ve got to go grab something from the library,” he said. “Care to give me a hand, Drac?”

“Yep,” she jumped to her feet, and caught Fig’s eye, tilting her head meaningfully at Ominis with a look that said he needs your help. Ominis began to rise, but Dracaena put her hand on his shoulder, leaned down, and whispered in his ear. A flash of fear crossed his face, but his friends were already halfway out the door.

“Well…” Eleazar cleared his throat gently as the young Slytherin before him shuffled his feet, looking for all the world as if he wished he was anywhere but here. “Is… everything alright, Ominis?”

His shoulders tensed immediately.

“What have they said?” he demanded. “There’s nothing wrong with me!” Almost instantly, another flash of fear lit on his elegant features. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Frowning lightly, Eleazar got to his feet, and the young Slytherin bolted out of his chair, taking several steps back. Alarmed, Eleazar followed, raising his hands.

“Ominis, it’s alright, you're not in trouble,” he said. Far from relaxing the lad, he seemed to become more agitated, his eyes darting around, as if he was seeking an escape he couldn’t see. “Come on now, come and sit with me, and we’ll have a nice cup of tea, and a chat about whatever’s bothering you, hm?”

Ominis looked terrified.

“You think he’ll be alright?” Dracaena said, following Sebastian through the castle. “I feel awful, like we were abandoning him.”

“Nah, He’ll be fine,” Sebastian said, the back of his hand occasionally bumping hers as they walked side-by-side. “Fig really helped me, more than I thought he would, and Merlin knows Ominis has some heavy shit to get off his chest.”

Dracaena sighed. “All the same, I do feel a bit guilty. He always seems so much happier when we’re with him.”

“Well, you,” Sebastian grumbled under his breath.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing.”

She chuckled, and took his arm, causing a blush to flow up the back of his neck. “So, what was that thing you needed to get?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Sebastian grinned. “I’ve been trying to get Ominis alone with Fig for ages now, and didn’t want to waste the opportunity.”

“Is that the only reason?” Dracaena teased, and the blush crept onto Sebastian’s cheeks. He glanced away.

“Fancy a walk?” he said, gesturing vaguely at the windows. “The weather’s good.”

They made their way down to the grounds and took an easy, rambling route, meandering up to the quidditch pitch to spy on the Gryffindor team’s practice for a few minutes before they were chased off by an irritable Madam Kogawa, losing ten points apiece for Slytherin. They decided it was worth it. Giggling together, they wandered off in the vague direction of Hogsmeade, before Sebastian glanced meaningfully at the Forbidden Forest.

“We've only landed the one detention so far,” he said casually. “I feel a bit strange without getting into trouble every now and then. How about it, Hoctina, you feeling brave enough to go in?”

Dracaena gave him a level look, trying not to grin at the cheeky smile on his face. “You do know I was in and out of that Forest more often than I was our common room last year, right?”

Sebastian chuckled. “Rubbish. Yeah I get that there’s a load of rumours about you, but you don’t need to make them up to impress me. We already did loads together that would scare the pants of most people.”

“So why are you doubting me?” Dracaena said, sufficiently rankled. She dropped his arm and marched over the tiny bridge, her nose in the air, Sebastian scampering along behind her. His free laughter told her he’d gotten exactly what he wanted, and she sighed, chuckling a little herself at how easily he’d played her. He’d always had such a talent for it.

“Hang on,” Sebastian said, after trekking down the path for a good ten minutes and occasionally blasting spiders out of the trees. “What’s this?”

Dracaena paused, peering at the tangle of thorns Sebastian was investigating. A battered pair of boots poked out, and she felt the familiar prickle of cold shiver up her spine, the same feeling she got whenever she saw a dead body.

“Careful,” Sebastian said, as she stepped closer. He held out a hand to stop her. “There’s a Devil’s Snare in there, probably what got the poor bugger. It’s hiding now because the sun’s up, but still, be on your guard.” He used his wand to levitate a few of the brambles out the way. “Looks like he was a courier, there’s a parcel there. Maybe we could deliver it on his behalf?”

“Good idea,” Dracaena said. “But why was he walking through the Forest if he was delivering something?”

Sebastian accioed the parcel into his hands and frowned as he turned it over, a light clinking coming from within.

“No address,” he said, and picked at the string tying the brown paper together. “I wonder what…”

The paper fell away, and Sebastian’s brows went up as several tiny bottles were revealed, all neatly packed together in a small crate. Each tiny bottle contained a swirling, white-blue substance that seemed to slide between a liquid and gaseous state.

“Bloody hell,” Sebastian said. “This isn’t good.”

“What is it?” Dracaena asked, huddling up to him as he picked out one of the tiny bottles. “Unicorn blood?”

“Nah, that’s way thicker, and the colour’s more silvery,” he said. “This is moonflower essence. It’s extremely rare, worth an absolute fortune, and very, very illegal.”

Professor Fig sat patiently on the sofa in the Room of Requirement, a leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping the air slightly as he sipped steadily at a lovely cup of tea. He was settled back against the arm, trying his hardest not to ask for the fourth time what the matter was with Ominis. The young Slytherin was sitting bolt upright on the opposite end of the sofa, clutching a cup of tea that he hadn’t touched. Half an hour had passed, and he’d not said a word aside from variations of “I’m quite alright, thank you,” despite the older man’s gentle probing.

Eleazar had his suspicions, of course. The way he’d reacted when he’d thought he’d spoken out of turn to a parental figure spoke volumes of the kind of trauma he suspected he’d endured, and he knew as well as anyone that Ominis had to talk about his past in order to be able to process what he’d gone through, to begin to heal. But he couldn’t force it, for that would only make matters worse.

So he sat, and he waited. Unfortunately, it seemed Ominis was far more accustomed to long periods of silence than Sebastian was, and he sensed that if he was going to get anywhere at all, he was going to have to prove that he could be trusted. But how? Ominis was mistrustful by nature, and it didn’t take much for him to dismiss those around him as a bunch of lying fools, even if he wouldn’t say such a thing about his elders out loud.

The best way to get Ominis to trust him enough to open up would either be through gradual increments over a very long period of time, or it would have to be through shared experiences. Eleazar had no desire to wait for possibly years for Ominis to open up to him that much, walking on eggshells and praying he didn’t inadvertently abuse the young man’s trust. But he had very little in common with the lad, in truth. From what he knew from the gossip amongst the professors, Ominis was the polar opposite of his family in every way, though this realisation had only really come to pass in recent months as his dear Dracaena practically dragged him out of his shell when they were together.

Ominis, it seemed, had not had a happy childhood. The fact he went to live with the Sallows the moment he could signified that. But Eleazar had had a thoroughly enjoyable boyhood with warm and loving parents. How could he connect with Ominis like he needed when they were so different?

Another fifteen minutes passed, and Ominis gave a long, almost silent sigh.

“Forgive me sir, but I really ought to finish tending my Flutterby Bush,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Might I be excused?”

“You don’t have to ask,” Eleazar said. “You’re not being kept here against your will, you know.” He paused as Ominis set his untouched tea on the low table and got to his feet, berating himself silently for not being able to help the lad when he so desperately needed someone to care for him. “Do you want some help? I might not be the most green-fingered of men, but-”

“I’m perfectly capable, thank you,” Ominis said, his tone carefully neutral, and Eleazar avoided swearing aloud by a narrow margin. Of course the poor chap would think everyone wanted to help him because they assumed his blindness rendered him helpless, and not just because they wanted to out of the kindness of their hearts.

But then, Ominis hadn’t known much kindness in his life.

“Well, perhaps you could talk me through what you’re doing?” Fig got to his feet as well. “I’ve always held a bit of a fascination with magical plants, but never really had the time to study them.”

He was keenly aware that Ominis wanted to be alone, but he couldn’t give up, not now. He had no idea how long Dracaena and Sebastian would be before they finished fetching whatever it was they were going to get (or rather, knowing them as he did, getting into mischief), and if he missed this chance to get through to Ominis, it was unlikely he’d ever get such an opportunity again.

Ominis’ shoulders moved with another silent sigh. “Of course, sir.”

Eleazar followed him down a corridor and into a rather glorious, long room, where Dracaena had conjured a number of potting stations at one end, the walls covered with tools, diagrams and cuttings, and at the other end were her cauldrons, where she and Sebastian occasionally experimented, with significantly more success than their Gryffindor friend, Garreth.

Ominis headed straight for the Flutterby Bush, a pretty little shrub whose leaves waved and shivered independently, giving the whole plant a pleasant rippling affect. Eleazar took up a station beside Ominis, clearing his throat a little to let him know where he was, and he clasped his hands, waiting patiently.

To his utter delight, this tactic worked.

Though Ominis’ speech was monotone and halting to begin with, he soon settled into his usual pattern of casual conversation, a small smile even appearing on his lips as he spoke about the shrub before him, how to care for it, nurture it, and what results Professor Garlick expected by the end of term.

After half an hour of this, Fig risked a question.

“What is it about Herbology that you enjoy so much?” he asked, crossing his fingers.

Ominis gave an elegant shrug.

“It’s predictable,” he said. “Magical plants generally won’t hurt you, and those capable of causing harm do so only as it’s their nature, and that’s easily avoided if you know what you’re dealing with. You don’t have to deal with dangerous plants if you don’t want to.”

“It’s safe, then?” Fig said, and Ominis hesitated, his fingers brushing the tips of the shivering leaves.

“Yes,” he said, slowly. “I suppose one could call it that.”

Fig clamped his lips shut, waiting for Ominis to continue speaking. He had to wait a while, but his patience was rewarded as he sighed, lowering his hands to the worktop.

“Plants don’t lie to you,” he said, his voice so soft Fig could barely hear it. “They don’t seek you out to hurt you. They don’t force you to hurt other people. They don’t ignore you and manipulate you and disregard your feelings out of spite.”

Eleazar leaned to the side, peering at him. Ominis’ face was set in a fierce scowl, quite at odds with his gently delivered words. He looked about ready to hit something, and his hands were white-knuckled on the worktop.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use another cup of tea,” Eleazar said gently, and to his delight, Ominis nodded, turned, and led the way back to the sofa.

“What should we do with it?” Dracaena asked, staring at the little crate of tiny bottles in Sebastian’s hands. They’d rushed out of the Forbidden Forest as fast as their legs could carry them and holed up in the nearby stately ruin lying along the road to Hogsmeade. Now, they were huddled up behind a stack of crates, and Sebastian had conjured a blanket to lie on top, shielding them from all sides. The space was quite small, and they were pressed up together. Dracaena tried very hard to ignore how warm he was.

“We could do loads,” Sebastian said. “By my guess, there’s got to be at least fifty-thousand galleons worth of essence here.”

Her jaw dropped. It was an almost obscene amount of money, enough for her, Sebastian and Ominis to buy a big house and live happily on the profits well into their middle ages, probably longer if they were sensible. Of course, Fig would live with them, and…

“We probably shouldn’t,” she said. “Bassy, if this really is worth that much and is as illegal as you say, how the hell would we even sell it? How would we explain where we got the money if we managed it?”

“Well… we’d need to launder it so the Ministry doesn’t get suspicious,” Sebastian said, rubbing his chin. “But that’d mean we need a business, and none of us are likely to do that until we’re out of school.”

“So we just sit on it? What if we’re caught with it?”

“Azkaban, probably,” Sebastian said, pulling one of the bottles out again and tilting it to and fro, his eyes on the swirling, liquid mist within. “A few drops of this makes for a powerful hallucinogen, giving you visions of blissful things. Easy to get addicted to, but the more you use it, the more you need, and the more you take, the worse the visions get, until you’re in a waking nightmare, but you can’t stop. People who get addicted to this end up wasting away because they forget to eat, cowering in a corner and surrounded by horrors.”

Dracaena bit her lip. “We probably shouldn’t sell it, then,” she said. “I don’t want something like this out on the streets where vulnerable people can be hurt by it.”

Sebastian shrugged. “Hey, if people want to take it, it’s not for me to tell them no,” he said. “Their body, their choice, right? And if it makes us rich in the process…”

Dracaena thumped his arm, and he chuckled, rubbing it.

“Take it easy, Sparks,” he said, teasing her with the nickname she hated, and she stuck her tongue out at him. His eyes flicked to it immediately, and his smile slipped for a fraction of a second. He wrenched his gaze away and back to the bottle in his hands, barely larger than his little finger.

“It’s not just used as a drug, it’s a really valuable potion ingredient too,” he said.

Dracaena laughed. “That's better. So we sell it to Pippin?”

Sebastian shook his head. “He’ll want to know where we got so much… even a single bottle of this would raise eyebrows.” He pursed his lips, and Dracaena found her eyes drawn to the shape they made. “The only way to sell this would be outside of Ministry regulations. If we own up and say we found it to anyone on the right side of the law, the Ministry would confiscate it, and maybe we’d get a ‘well done’ in the Daily Prophet or something. Now, I don’t know about you, but if someone asked me whether I wanted to take a risk and the result was fifty grand, or do the ‘proper’ thing and get a thank you if I’m lucky, well, I know which one I’d pick.”

Dracaena nodded slowly. “You make a good point,” she said. “But it’ll be dangerous. We should probably take it back to the castle and hide it somewhere until we know what to do with it.”

“Don’t tell Om-” Sebastian began, but Dracaena poked him hard in the ribs and he yelped with a pained laugh.

“Have you learned nothing? If we don’t tell him, he’ll find out anyway, then be upset we excluded him,” Dracaena scolded. “I’m telling him the moment we get back and Fig’s out of earshot.”

Ominis slumped on the sofa, his head hanging. His voice had returned to its monotone state, but for the first time, Fig was glad of it. He thought he’d heard the worst kinds of neglect when Sebastian had told his story (though he suspected Sebastian hadn’t quite told him everything), but the horrific abuse the young Gaunt had suffered at the hands of his family chilled him to the bone. It was a wonder he was even alive, and the story had only reached up to when Ominis was four years old.

“Marvolo used to put me on a broom for fun,” he said, speaking to his knees. “One might think that’s a brotherly thing to do, but once my feet left the ground, I had absolutely no idea where I was. I didn’t have my wand or even the barest hint of magic at such a young age, so I had no way of telling whether I was two foot from the ground or twenty. He used to love sitting in the sun with a book, listening to me screaming for help. It was music to him. He always did it when Aunt Noctua was away, because when she caught him at it, even my father couldn’t stand in the way of the beatings she’d give.”

A tiny flicker of a smile passed his lips. “I suppose it’s funny in a way, looking back on it. She used to frighten the daylights out of Marvolo, but I wished she wouldn’t sometimes. He always hurt me worse after she twisted his ear of whipped his behind bloody. I do miss her.”

“When did she pass?” Eleazar asked, gently.

“Oh, many years ago now. I think I was six when she stopped coming back.” A flash of pain crossed his face, swept away almost instantly by the carefully neutral expression he so often wore. “Ten years… I can hardly believe it.”

Eleazar raised a hand as if to place it on the young man’s shoulder, but he thought better of it. Ominis was a bit funny about being touched, he shied away from contact from almost everyone. Indeed, he’d only ever known Ominis to accept a brief hug or pat on the back from Sebastian, though he did seem perfectly content to lean on Dracaena when they studied. Not that this surprised him, she was a warm and likeable young witch, able to get on with just about anybody.

He tilted his head as Ominis sighed slightly.

“I apologise for going on so, sir, I don’t want to talk your ear off,” he said, his voice still low and dull. “It must be a frightful bore to listen to me complain so.”

“Nonsense,” Eleazar said. “It’s good for the soul to get things off your chest once in a while.”

Ominis shook his head slightly, turning away, and Eleazar bit down on a swearword. He’d been doing so well, and now he was pulling away again! He drew a steadying breath. Patience, Eleazar, let him go at his own pace.

“I could make us another hot drink, if you like?” he offered instead. “Perhaps something other than tea? A coffee, perhaps, or a hot chocolate? I might even have a little firewhisky on hand if you’re in need of a pick-me-up?”

Ominis huffed a soft laugh. “No thank you, sir,” he said, lacing his fingers together and leaning back until he was resting properly against the back of the sofa, his hands in his lap, his head pillowed, his crystal eyes gazing unseeing at the ceiling.

“Did you know that my parents tried everything they possibly could to fix this?” he said, waving a hand at his eyes, before it fell back into his lap. “Everything, I’m told. Gold no object. There was no Healer too expensive, no shaman too far away, no treatment too experimental.”

Eleazar, who had been about to take a sip of coffee, froze, the rim of the cup touching his lip. The darkness in Ominis’ voice chilled him to the bone, and he dreaded hearing what was to come next.

“None of it worked,” Ominis said, his head lolling a little to the side, his eyes closing. “All of it hurt. They’d make me sit there for hours, trying all these different spells, making me drink potions, rubbing poultices into my eyes…” he shuddered. “I think if I wasn’t blind already, I’d have lost my sight for all that they did. Apparently one of their experiments fused my irises together, not that it made any difference to me, but it made them treat me more like an outcast. ‘At least people will know right away that you’re broken, boy, and won’t trouble themselves with you.’ That’s what my father said when it happened.”

“Ominis,” Eleazar began, but the young Slytherin seemed oblivious to his presence.

“They used to give me a piece of chocolate once they got bored of trying to fix me.” He said. “I was never in the mood for it, I was usually in too much pain to think about eating anything. But they forced me, told me I was being ungrateful. I never could stand the taste of it after that.”

Eleazar shifted guiltily, thinking of all the times he’d made the trio a hot chocolate before sending them off to bed, the warm treat a favourite of his as well. Ominis had always accepted with polite thanks, and usually left more than half his cup undrunk once the other two had scoffed theirs. The few times it had been empty, the cup had been spotless, and Eleazar suspected he’d vanished the contents so as not to offend.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “Ominis, what you’ve endured is terrible. I don’t know how someone who was hurt so badly by those that were meant to love you has turned out to be one of the most well-mannered, kind people I know.”

If Ominis registered the gentle compliment, he didn’t react to it. Instead, he sighed.

“It gets worse,” he said gloomily. “Once I got my wand, and had practiced enough with it, they decided to let me join in on the family sport, something I’d always been curious about, until I found out what it was. Marvolo had always called it ‘hunting,’ and I suppose it was, in a way. The thing is, what they were hunting was muggles.”

“Ah, shit, they’re still in there,” Sebastian said, his ear pressed to the door opposite the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy. “Can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s mostly Ominis talking.” He flashed Dracaena a grin. “Told you it’d work.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said. She’d been anxious about Ominis’ declining mood for a good while now, and she got the feeling he desperately wanted to talk about it, but didn’t know how to start. She was wise enough to know she was ill-equipped for helping him considering the little she knew of his past, no matter how much she wanted to be the one he bared his soul to. “But enough about that for now, where the hell are we going to hide the moonflower essence?”

“Shh!” Sebastian flapped his hand at her, glancing nervously along the corridor. “Anyone could be creeping up on us!”

“Revelio,” Dracaena said, her wand revealing nothing but them. “No, there’s no one.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t trust the portraits,” Sebastian muttered. “Gossips, the lot of them.”

“I guess we could hide it in your dorm?” Dracaena suggested, eyeing the bundle of robes Sebastian was carrying, the crate of essence hidden within.

“Why mine? If anything, we should hide it in yours, everyone loves you and would believe you if you said you didn’t know what it was or where it came from,” Sebastian argued.

“Because I can get into your dorm, you can’t get into mine,” Dracaena said. “If one of us is indisposed, the other should be able to move it pronto, don’t you think?”

“I could get into your dorm if I wanted to,” Sebastian muttered, then his cheeks flushed. “We can’t just keep carrying this around. Maybe if we just hid it in a suit of armour or behind a tapestry or something?”

“Too exposed,” Dracaena said. “We can’t risk someone stumbling on this. Knowing our luck, I bet Peeves would find it.”

As if he was summoned, the colourful poltergeist zoomed around the corner, cackling madly, his arms full of star charts he’d clearly just stolen. He pulled up short in midair with a screeching noise as he saw them standing there, and his little black eyes narrowed in malicious glee.

“Oooh, it’s feeble Fig’s new adoptees!” he cackled. “Up to no good, it seems to me, thinking a professor dad will save your skins!”

“Don’t,” Dracaena said, grabbing Sebastian’s wrist as he went for his wand.

Seemingly disappointed by their lack of reaction, Peeves glowered, his beady eyes lighting on the bundle of robes in Sebastian’s arms. His grin almost split his face in half when both students tensed.

“Oooooh, what’ve you got there? Is it foody or drinky, or something much more naughty?”

He swooped towards them, dropping the star charts, his hands outstretched. Sebastian swore and dived to the floor, holding the robes to his chest. Dracaena stood over him, firing hexes at Peeves as he soared about her, trying to get to Sebastian. She swore herself as he began throwing things at her, vases, potted plants, portraits that yelled at their unexpected flight, and more. She drew the line when he pulled a fat tarantula out of his pocket and flung it at her face.

Dracaena yelped and whacked it away, and unfortunately, it decided to take refuge down the neck of Sebastian’s shirt. He flung himself into the air as though he’d been electrocuted, the bundle of robes flying away as he scrabbled for his collar, howling like a wounded wolf. Dracaena avoided his flailing limbs and hurled herself after the robes as Peeves shot forward, cackling. He caught one end of the robes and Dracaena caught the other, and the wrapped package came flying out.

“Accio!” Dracaena yelled, and it shot into her hands. “Depulso!”

Peeves was blasted backwards, vanishing through the wall with a yelp.

“Get it off get it off get it off get it off!” Sebastian yelled, kicking and slapping at his torso. Dracaena spied the poor tarantula making an eight-legged run for it into the shadows, but delayed saying anything, because at that moment, Sebastian saw fit to tear his shirt right off.

She raised a brow, admiring the freckles on his shoulders, the light dusting of hair on his chest and navel, the tiniest hint of weight around his belly. He blinked up at her, caught her staring, and they both went as red as Gryffindor.

“No spider,” Dracaena said, clearing her throat and nudging his shirt towards him with her foot, averting her gaze. “Look, we better get out of here befo-”

The door to the Room of Requirement opened, and Professor Fig poked his head out. His brows flew up as he caught sight of Sebastian sitting half dressed on the floor, both he and Dracaena blushing furiously. To her surprise, she saw that his eyes were rather red.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” Fig said, trying to smile. “Did you get everything you needed?”

“Uh…” Dracaena glanced at the package in her hands, then at Sebastian. “Actually, Elly, there’s something pretty serious we need to talk to you about.”

Sebastian swore under his breath.

The package sat on Fig’s desk in his office as he stared at it the following day. Dracaena had told him everything about what they’d found, and he’d advised them both, firmly, that as tempting as it was to sell it and get a lot of gold for it, it would only end up in trouble for the lot of them. He would have to take it to the Ministry. Sebastian set up a fierce protest of course, arguing a passionate case as to why they should do things his way as Dracaena sidled over to Ominis and gave him a huge hug that he eagerly returned, burying his face in her shoulder.

Fig had already had a word with Aesop and written to Minister Spavin, and most of the little bottles would make their way to the Ministry for a small reward, about a hundred galleons or so.

He chuckled softly. It wasn’t fifty grand, but it was something. The other would be tucked away in Sharp’s private stores for his more difficult potions.

His smile slid away as he remembered all Ominis had told him before Dracaena and Sebastian had their fight with Peeves. He hadn’t been able to stop himself weeping, hastily casting a Silencing Charm on himself as he listened to all the poor lad had endured. Endless abuse, mindless torment, even torture.

But listening to him had helped him. Ominis had strode to breakfast that morning with a smile on his face, arm in arm with Dracaena, Sebastian on her other side, the three of them laughing and joking freely. Dracaena had caught his eye and mouthed a thank you to him. Fig had raised his goblet, hoping against hope that his youngest charge would feel more comfortable coming to him with any problems he had in the future. The first step, after all, is always the hardest.

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #dracaena hoctina #Professor Fig #eleazar fig #Dad!Fig

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herrmannhalsteadproduction · 7 months

Text

500 Miles (Chapter Eight)

Summary: This is Part Nineteen of my series A Herrmann/Halstead Production. It is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams. It is very much an AU, just to underscore that. It doesn't follow the same timeline and characters will follow different paths.

Click here for the Series Rundown where you can find the links to read all of the previous installments (which I highly recommend you do so that this one makes sense.)

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationships: Christopher Herrmann & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Original Female Character, Will Halstead & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Will Halstead, Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz/Original Female Character, Will Halstead/Connor Rhodes, Assorted OC Couples

Warnings: Light Angst, Emotional Conversations, Dealing with Past Trauma, Minor Character Injury, Swearing, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, An Unholy Amount of Fluff

A/N: To underscore my previous note, this is an alternate universe so things have unfolded differently. This will not follow the canon arcs exactly by any means. But I hope you'll still enjoy it!

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Saturday, August 1st – Grudge Match Day

***

Connor

As demanded requested, Connor arrived at Will and Bex’s place precisely at eight am. Bex’s text had said she needed time to give them FURTHER INTRUCTIONS. All caps.

He figured he shouldn’t miss it.

Will answered when Connor called up to be buzzed in. “There’s still time to back out,” his whispered tones crackled out of the speaker. “Save yourself.”

“Not a chance,” Connor laughed. “We’re in this together.”

Muttering something about a beautiful, foolish man, Will buzzed him through and Connor headed upstairs.

The door whipped open before he could knock and Will stood there, in all of his Grudge Match day glory. Connor bit at his lip, trying not to laugh again as Will sighed in resignation.

“Don’t even start,” he said, stepping back to let Connor in. “Bex made one for you too.” He was decked out in a hot pink baseball shirt that had long black sleeves. The front said Grudge Match 2015 in black letters and Canteen Crew in hot pink down the left arm.

Connor reached out to tug at the sleeve. “I like it.”

“Good!” Bex said as she came down the hallway and chucked one at him. “Put yours on!”

“Yes, ma’am.” He ducked into the bathroom to change, pausing to snort when he saw the back.

Will was waiting in the hall still when he emerged.

“Well?” Connor did a slow turn for him.

“Ugh,” Will groaned, shaking his head. “Fuck you for making that look good.”

“Mm.” Connor leaned in for a kiss. “After the game,” he whispered against Will’s mouth.

Will instantly brightened and pulled him in for a second one—only to have to break apart as Bex hollered at them from the kitchen.

“Stop making out and get in here!”

“Anyone else seen those shirts yet?” Connor asked Will who shook his head.

“Just the rest of the canteen crew which is Emery, Donna, and—uh, hang on—oh, Isaac, and Devon, and...Lexi Olinsky!" he said, counting everyone off on his fingers. “Bex likes to keep it as a surprise for the teams each year.”

“That’s…gonna be fun,” Connor grinned as they rounded the corner into the kitchen. Emery was already seated at the table and Bex ushered them to their own spots before grabbing a platter of French toast and setting it down by a plate of sliced fruit.

“Dig in,” she said. “You’ll need your strength.”

“How come Donna, Lexi, Isaac, and Devon aren’t at this pre-game meeting?” Connor asked as he started loading up his plate.

“Donna, Isaac, and Devon helped out last year,” Bex said, waving off his question. She filled up four coffee cups and brought them over, finally taking her own seat. “They know how it goes. And I'll fill Lexi in when she gets there.”

Will gulped down a mouthful and frowned at her. “Didn’t you tell us everything already? I have a huge list of instructions in my phone.”

“That was the boring stuff.” Bex shook her head. “Setting up the canteen and whatever.”

‘And whatever’ Will mouthed at him, rolling his eyes, and Connor wiped at his face with a napkin to hide his smile.

“No, this—this is the real information,” Bex declared. “I saved it for today so it would be fresh in your minds.”

“Where’s the power point presentation?” Emery snarked, still half-asleep as she sipped her coffee.

“First of all, rude,” Bex said, pointing at her. “Second of all, keep that energy. That’s exactly the kind of attitude we’re looking for today.” She held up her hand. “I have three simple rules for a successful Grudge Match. One, heckle everyone who comes up to bat,” Bex said, ticking the points off on her fingers. “Two, celebrate anyone who makes it home, but you have to cheer ‘GOAL!’ every time.”

“Seriously?” Will snorted. “Absolutely.” Bex grinned at him. “Watch how it make Jay and Chris twitch and you’ll thank me.” She lowered her hand. “The last rule is we pick one person from each team to be our special little guy and we cheer for them the whole time as loudly and as obnoxiously as possible. Last year, I cheered for Tony and Al and the year before that it was Shay and Erin. Almost everyone at 51 has had a turn except for Sylvie because she’s new so I was thinking we could go with her and then from 21, maybe Sam—”

“Mouse,” Emery, Will, and Connor said at once. Then grinned at each other for their freaky mind-meld moment. Bex’s mouth dropped open and then slammed shut as she shook her head. “No. No, no, no,” she said. “Come on, Sam’s the newest and—”

“Mouse,” Emery, Will, and Connor repeated.

“I don’t want him to think we’re teasing him,” Bex protested. “I mean, isn’t everyone getting teased by us today?” Emery pointed out. “I thought that was the whole schtick?”

“It’ll be like a seal of approval,” Will said, ignoring Bex’s groans.

“Speaking as a fellow outsider—” Connor began, cut off by Bex and Will booing him and Emery tossing a piece of toast crust his way. “Okay, fine, as someone new to the group…”

Bex rolled her eyes and he took that as permission to continue. “I think Mouse will take it in the spirit it’s intended,” Connor said.

“And anyway, it’s three against one,” Emery added.

“That too,” Will agreed.

“You’re all horrible and I regret nothing about the shirts,” Bex said, downing the last of her breakfast. “Come on, hustle up! We gotta go!”

They inhaled the rest of their food and helped load up the cars with the piles of supplies Bex had ready. She dug through the bags and handed out matching hot pink baseball caps. Grudge Match 2015 was stitched on the front in black thread with Canteen Crew on the back.

“Hats too?” Will said, eyeing his sulkily. “I feel like you went a bit above and beyond with the accessories this year.”

Bex turned pink and busied herself organizing the back of the trunk, mumbling something.

“What was that?” Will leaned in and poked at her. “There’s a reason behind torturing us too?”

She turned around with a huff. “I said this is the first year you’ve come to the Grudge Game and I wanted to make it extra fun and yes, getting tortured is part of that.” She shrugged, fidgeting with her own cap. “Jay and Chris have had more years of it so this is for us. Making memories, you know?”

“Dammit, Bex. Now I can’t even be annoyed.” Will deflated, looking down at the cap with a soft grin before shoving it on his head. “Alright, Canteen Crew. Let’s do this.”

Emery and Bex cheered before getting into the Tin Can and Will followed Connor over to his car. Connor pulled him in for a kiss when they reach the door.

“You’re making that outfit look pretty good yourself, Halstead,” he murmured.

“You’re a dirty liar, but I’ll take it,” Will laughed, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Three loud honks had them pulling apart to see Bex and Emery stopped at the exit to the parking lot. Bex was hanging out of her window as she hit the horn again. “We’re on a schedule here, fellas!”

“Alright, already!” Will hollered back at her, shaking his head as the Tin Can sputtered out of the lot. “Tyrant.”

“You love it,” Connor said, heading for the driver’s side.

“Yeah.” Will sighed. “I kinda do.”

Connor grinned to himself as they got into the car. It was shaping up to be a great day.

***

Bex

It was coming up on ten am and almost everything was ready. They had the canteen set up in the space behind the backstop and the parking lot. Both teams had arrived as well as the rest of their canteen crew.

Donna, Isaac, and Devon were decked out in their shirts and hats, exchanging greeting with everyone. Uncle Bo stopped by to give Donna a kiss and raised an eyebrow at Bex.

“This is another Bex original, I take it?” he asked, laughing when she nodded proudly. “Can’t wait for Herrmann’s reaction.”

“Oh, he’ll—”

“Seriously, Bex?”

“I guess you won’t have to wait long,” she said as Chris came over, shaking his head.

“Turn around,” Chris said, already spinning her gently. “Let me see this monstrosity up close.” He groaned. “Never should have let you have crayons as a kid. Look where it’s led.”

“I think it’s my favourite one yet,” Donna said and Bex beamed back at her.

She was actually quite pleased with how this year’s shirts turned out. Aside from the lettering on the front and the sides, she’d also done up a design for the back. It said “Two houses, without a shred of dignity…” and had a little doodle of William Shakespeare in a baseball outfit with his little ruff at the neck, holding a hand to his forehead in despair.

Some of her best work.

“Ugh.” Chris let her go and looked over their set up. “You guys all set? We’re gonna get started soon.”

“Ready to go,” Bex said, knocking off a salute.

“Cheeky.” He said, wagging a warning finger at her as she stalked off. “Nothing but cheek.”

Bex rocked back on her heels, looking out at her friends and family gathered, all chatting and laughing. She loved this. Everyone all together. Getting ready for a day of fun.

Jay called out from where he was hanging out with the team from 21 and waved at them.

She waved back with a grin.

Mouse popped up beside him, offering his own wave, side of his mouth quirked up in a little smile. Bex managed to wave at him too even as her mouth went dry.

He looked good. Like—his jersey was hugging him in all the right places and his shoulders—she didn’t remember his shoulders looking that broad. And his cap was set just right and now his head was thrown back as he laughed at something Jay was saying and—

“Hey,” Emery said, bumping her shoulder into Bex’s. “What are you looking at—oh.” She snorted. “You poor girl,” she said. “Gonna make it?”

The sound Bex made in response could probably best be described as that of a dying goose.

“What going on?” Devon asked as he and Isaac sidled up to them. Emery wordlessly pointed at Mouse and the two of them immediately nodded with little ‘ah’s of understanding.

“Reconsidering the ‘taking it slow’ plan?” Isaac asked with a little elbow nudge.

“I am only so strong.” Bex closed her eyes, whimpering.

“Come on.” Devon wrapped an arm around her shoulders, urging her forward. “They’re going to read out the rules soon. That’ll be a good distraction.”

Bex perked up. The reading of the rules was one of her favourite parts.

“And I’ll buy you a cookie later if you manage to keep your hands to yourself,” Isaac added. She shoved him and he just laughed, completely unrepentant. Bex was absolutely going to make him follow through on that promise.

The four of them made their way through the crowd so they’d have a good view of the mound where Chris and Dr. Abrams were getting set up.

Things were about to begin.

***

Will

Will and Connor stood off to the side, keeping one eye on the canteen and the other on the mound as Chris and Sam Abrams got ready to kick things off. The two teams were lined up on either side while Maggie, April, and Ethan were decked out in their umpire gear behind them.

Chris fiddled around with the wireless mic from the sound system Devon and Isaac had brought, tapping on it a few times until he was convinced it was on.

He cleared his throat before raising the mic to speak. “Friends,” Chris called out, smiling at the team from 51. They all let out cheers and whoops.

“Enemies!” He narrowed his eyes at the team from 21 who let out a bunch of good-natured boos.

“And those of you who have yet to pick at side…” Will laughed as Chris scowled over at Bex who cackled back at him with zero remorse. Chris’s mouth twitched as he fought to keep his scowl before turning back to the crowd.

“Welcome to the Grudge Match!” He held his arms out wide and everyone in the crowd started cheering and whistling.

Will looked over at Connor who looked thoroughly delighted by the whole thing already, grinning like a little kid. A little pang shot through him. This was probably world’s away from anything Connor experienced growing up. He was suddenly grateful for all of the ridiculousness Bex had heaped upon them today.

Making good memories for all of them.

“I’ve been told I have to read this list of rules before we can begin,” Dr. Abrams’s voice cut through his thoughts and Will returned his attention to the mound.

Abrams was peering down at a sheet in his hand and he sighed as he brought the mic back up to his mouth. “We’re here today to raise money for the Bedford Street Community Centre. Refreshments and t-shirts can be purchased from the canteen. All proceeds from there will be going to the fund and any additional donations are welcome. We thank you for your generosity.” He cleared his throat. “Now for the list. General reminder that this is an alcohol-free event and anyone who doesn’t respect that will be asked to leave.”

Considering some of the stories Will had heard over the years, that was probably for the best.

…unless that had always been the case and those stories happened while everyone was sober?

“Rule number one,” Abrams continued, his voice echoing across the field. “In accordance with the agreement made after the incident in 1976, each Grudge Match will only be seven innings long with a thirty minute break after the fifth inning as per the agreement of 1982.”

Abrams raised an eyebrow at that before continuing down the list. “Rule number two, no mascots. That’s all it says. Okay. Rule number three, in accordance with the agreement made after the incident in 1983, any physical altercations will result in an immediate eviction from the game. If a team loses enough players that they cannot fulfill their roster—” Abrams blinked at the page, muttering ‘what is wrong with you people’ just loudly enough for the microphone to pick up. “—that is considered an automatic forfeit.”

“Don’t forget rule number four!” Mouch called out only to have Chris shove at his shoulder.

“Ah, yes,” Abrams said. “Finally, rule number four, in accordance with the agreement made after the incident in 1998, no food trucks are allowed on or around the field for the duration of the game. Good lord, I’m afraid to ask why.” He folded up the page and stuffed it into his back pocket. “If both captains will come forward, we’ll do the coin toss.”

Trudy stepped out of her team line-up and joined Chris and Abrams on the mound. She smirked over at Chris. “I believe as the winning team from last year, we get to call it,” she said. “Heads.”

Chris grumbled, jerking a nod at Abrams who flipped the coin in the air.

“Heads it is.”

“You know, I’m feeling generous today,” Trudy said. “We’ll take first at bat. Set the standard.”

“How nice of you,” Chris said, baring his teeth at her in a mockery of a smile before he strode back to his team.

“Love you, honey!” Mouch called out as Trudy walked back to her own side of the diamond.

She waved him off with a hand behind her head. “Not your honey today, boo.”

Will fell into Connor’s side, giggling as Mouch held a hand to his heart and declared Trudy an ‘incredible woman.’

“Posts, everyone!” Bex popped up out of the crowd with Emery on her heels. “First wave will be coming for snacks before the game starts so let’s be ready.”

“I thought the game was starting now?” Connor asked as they made their way over to the canteen.

“Soon,” Bex said. “Chris still has to give his pep talk though and they have to agree on their line-ups so it’ll be another few minutes at least.”

Familiar barking filled the air and Will was almost knocked down by a fluff ball cannon. “Hey, boy!” Will crouched down to give Kol a scratch. “Glad you could make it.”

“Sorry, Uncle Will!” Annabelle came running up with her brothers behind her and Cindy bringing up the rear. “He got away before I could put the leash on.”

“He’s sneaky like that sometimes,” Will said, taking the leash from her with a smile and clipping it onto Kol’s collar. “Did you guys have a fun sleepover?”

“The best!” Annabelle exclaimed, throwing her little arms around Kol. She and Max started talking all at once telling him everything they did which seemed to centre mostly on trying to teach Kol a fantastically large number of new tricks.

“I hope he wasn’t too much trouble,” Will said to Cindy who was looking more than a little tuckered out.

“Oh, not at all,” she said with a tired smile. “He was the most well-behaved creature in the whole house. He even helped me herd everyone to bed.”

“We didn’t teach him that trick,” Annabelle grumbled.

“He’s pretty smart that way,” Will laughed. “Do you think you could do me a favour and keep looking after him during the game?”

Even the newly-teenaged Lee Henry broke into a grin at that suggestion.

“We’ll take the best care of him, Uncle Will,” Annabelle promised. “You’ll see!”

“I know you will. Now who wants some popcorn? Donna makes her own Chicago mix and it is delicious.” He smiled at the five hands that went up in the air and went behind the canteen table to get the Herrmann crew set up with their snacks.

***

Emery

Emery bit back a laugh at the sight of Connor standing stock still as he watched Will interact with the Herrmann kids. Dude was the human embodiment of heart-eyes.

“Man, it’s good we have so many medical professionals here today,” she said, snapping him out of his daze. He raised his eyebrows in question.

“I don’t know who’s going to pass out first; you or Bex.” She jerked a nod at said friend who was currently pretending not to be watching Mouse as he did some kind of stretch-lunge-maneuver.

“Shut up,” Connor laughed even as his cheeks went pink. “I cannot be expected to be…normal around that.” He pointed over at Will who was crouched down beside Annabelle again, handing her a small container of popcorn and nodding seriously while she rambled animatedly at him.

“Yeah, no, that’s fair,” Emery agreed. “Good luck with that.” She patted his shoulder and went to get the grill fired up.

***

Chris

He paced in front of his team, meeting them in the eye, one by one.

“Last year was hard,” Chris began. “Losing always is and you lot took it on the chin like the champions you are.” “I don’t know about that,” Otis piped up. “Capp cried.”

“I literally got elbowed in the face,” Capp complained. “I got a black eye!”

“Did things go the way we wanted?” Chris said louder, ignoring them. “No. But the important thing is we didn’t let it keep us down. Now we’re another year smarter and another year stronger. We’re got fresh talent—” He pointed over at Sylvie who beamed at him and waved her fists in a little cheer. “—and we’ve got the most important thing of all…”

“Heart,” Mouch said with a confident nod.

“Mouch!” Chris threw his hands up. “You’re wreckin’ my dramatic pause.”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Mouch said, taking a step back. “Was just feeling the moment.”

“That’s not what I was gonna say anyway,” Chris continued. “I mean, yeah, we got heart. Truckloads of it. But more importantly, we got spite.” He pointed a sharp finger across the diamond at the CPD team. “Those chuckleheads wiped the floor with us last year and wouldn’t shut up about it for months. So today, I want you to remember that feeling. That utter humiliation. And I want you to focus it and use that fire to kick some ass!”

“And have a good time while we’re at it, right Herrmann?” Shay called out, a shit-eating grin stretched across her face. “Cause you know, it’s all in good fun?”

Chris blew a raspberry at her. “We’ll have fun rubbing our victory in their faces,” he said. “Now huddle up, we gotta talk line-up.”

***

Hailey

Hailey watched as Herrmann paced back and forth in front of the CFD team, waving his arms as he gave an impassioned speech. She’d been warned that the Grudge Match game could be a little…weird and so far, it was living up to its reputation.

“Okay, team,” Platt said, tapping a pen against her clipboard. “Gather round and we’ll go over the line up.”

“What?” Ruzek asked. “We don’t get a speech?”

Platt leveled a look at him with a sigh. “Alright, here it goes,” she said. “Inspiring words. Inspiring words. Heartfelt moment. Dramatic pause. Rallying cry.” She eyed them all over her clipboard. “Happy?”

Al sniffed. “That was beautiful.”

“Great. Moving on, here’s the line-up.” Platt called out their batting order and playing positions. Their team was made up mostly of the Intelligence crew this year: aside from Hailey, there was Halstead, Mouse, Burgess, Ruzek, Atwater, and Olinsky. Two patrol officers they worked with frequently were joining them as well, Tay and Kent.

Voight was there too, but as ‘co-coach’ which seemed to mean sitting back and chuckling to himself as Platt gave out orders.

Hailey pulled her ponytail through her cap and settled it on her head. As far as team-building exercises went, it could be worse.

“Hey,” Ruzek said, settling down on their dugout bench. “Who do you think the pick is this year?”

“Pick?” Hailey asked.

“Bex picks someone from each team to cheer for every year while heckling the shit out of everyone else,” Ruzek explained. He scrunched up his face. “Last year’s was Olinsky.”

“Still got sour grapes over that, I see,” Olinsky shot back. He batted his eyes at Ruzek. “Some of us are just favourites material.”

“She doesn’t pick you?” Hailey nodded at Halstead who snorted at her question.

“Cheering for her brothers is ‘boring’,” Jay said, using his free hand for quotation marks as he dug into Mouse’s popcorn bag with the other.

…there was popcorn?

Mouse caught her look and offered the bag in her direction. She dug in with a grin.

***

Mouse

Mouse gave up his snack to Jay and Hailey since they’d eaten half of it already. He’d spotted his group walking toward the stands and wanted to say hi before the game began anyway.

He hurried over to intercept them before they grabbed seats. “Hey. Hi,” he said. “You guys made it.”

“Yeah, we did!” Lucy said before pulling him in for a hug. “Look at you in your little baseball outfit. You look so cute!”

“Okay, yeah, get it out now,” he said, rolling his eyes as he accepted hugs from the others as well.

“Looking good, slugger,” Ed said, giving him a light punch in the shoulder. “Ready for—”

“Enough with the chit chat.” Ada elbowed Ed out of the way. “Time for the important questions of which there is only one. Where’s Bex?”

Frank stood up on his tiptoes looking out over the crowd. "She's here already, right?"

“Hey, uh, you guys are gonna be cool, right?” Mouse lifted his hat to run a hand through his hair. “You’re not gonna be weird or interrogate her or—”

“Mouse,” Chuck stepped in, putting a light hand at Mouse’s elbow, grounding him. “We’ll be on our best behaviour,” he said. “I promise. But also, if you’ve changed your mind, we can leave right now.” He ignored Ada’s little noise of protest behind them. “It’s your call.”

He still felt nervous about it all; this was pretty far outside what they normally did. But when Mouse did a gut check, there were two things he knew to be true. One, he trusted this group. With…everything. And everything for him would always include Bex.

Which brought him the second thing; he did actually want them to get to know each other. At least a little bit. It was scary as hell, but it still felt right.

“I see her,” Ada whispered. “She’s at the canteen.”

“Oooh, her outfit’s even cuter,” Lucy whispered back.

“I will drag them back to the van if I have to,” Chuck said to him, deadly serious.

“No, uh, no it’s okay,” Mouse said. He was working on being braver when it came to good things. “Just, uh…be nice?”

“You got it.” Chuck grinned at him, clapping him on the back. “Now, go get ‘em, champ.”

***

Lexi

Lexi was running late and it was to something she hadn’t even wanted to go to which made things worse. But her dad had asked her to come and he’d really been trying lately which made her want to try…

And she’d found herself agreeing to help out at the Grudge Match which she hadn’t been to since she was, god, eight? Maybe?

Her dad said she’d be helping out at the canteen though with Detective Halstead’s sister and her friends so maybe it wouldn’t be horrible.

At least the uniform was funny.

Lexi sighed as she hurried across the parking lot. She actually hated being late. She’d been on time until Jason threw a fit when he realized she was heading out for the day and wouldn’t be home doing nothing with him like he assumed she would be.

The freakouts had been happening more often than not lately. She loved him, but the clingy possessiveness was starting to wear.

“Lexi!” her dad called out, waving at her from around the side of the dugout. He must have been keeping an eye out for her. She waved back at him. “We’re starting, but I’ll come see you soon!”

She shot him a thumb’s up and headed over to the canteen. “Hi,” she said to the two girls working the table, a blonde and a brunette. “I’m Al’s daughter Lexi. Where do you want me?”

“Hi, Al’s daughter Lexi,” the brunette said, sticking her hand out to shake. “I’m Bex. Welcome to the most fun spot in the whole of Grudge Match day. Let me introduce you to everyone and show you the ropes.” Bex paused, narrowing her eyes at her. “How are your heckling skills?”

“I’m an Olinsky,” Lexi said and a slow smile spread across Bex’s face.

“Yeah, you’re gonna fit in, no problem.”

***

Jay

Jay walked up to the plate. First at bat. No pressure.

The rest of his team began cheering as he got into place and took a few practice swings, staring down Casey out on the mound.

“Oooooh, first at bat,” Bex drawled from somewhere behind him. “Setting the tone for the whole game. Gotta show everybody how it’s done.”

He ignored her, staying focused as Casey wound up—threw out the pitch—

Jay swung and—

“Strike one,” Dr. Abrams called out.

“Come on, Jay,” Bex said. “My grandma can swing faster than that.”

“Why, Rebecca,” Emery’s voice joined her. “Aren’t both of your grandmothers…deceased?”

“Yes, Emery,” she said. Jay shot a glare back at her, catching Bex’s solemn nod. “And yet they both would have knocked that out of the park.”

Dawson snorted from her crouched position as catcher.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jay muttered. “Just wait until you get up here.”

“At least I have a chance of being the pick this year,” she said, shooting a few hand signals at Casey who nodded.

Jay shook it off, rolling his shoulders as he prepared for the next pitch. A fastball. He knew it was a good swing even before the crack of the bat echoed through the air.

The ball went flying and Jay dropped the bat, booking it for first base. There was a blur out in the field that caught the corner of his as he ran, but he ignored it, focused on his goal.

A sudden cheer went up along with shouts from his team.

“Out! He’s out!” Cruz yelled from centre field and Jay groaned. Seriously?

“Kol caught the ball!” Shay laughed.

…wait, what? Jay’s head snapped up and he peered out at the field. Kol was zooming around with the ball in his mouth, ducking all attempts from Cruz, Shay, and Chief Boden to catch him.

“That doesn’t count!” Jay hollered back at Dr. Abrams. “Right?” He was a dog! There was no way it counted. “Right??”

***

Dr. Sam Abrams, head umpire

He called time and motioned for the other three umpires to come together for a meeting.

“The play can’t count. Dog’s not on the roster,” Dr. Choi said immediately. “Why are we even discussing this?”

"If I may offer a counter point,” Nurse Sexton raised her hand. “Allowing it would be hilarious.”

Hm. Objectively speaking, that was true. Very much so. Dr. Choi was gearing up to argue again so Sam stepped in. “That is a valid point,” he said, ignoring Dr. Choi’s look to focus on the more pressing issue. “The question is, how do we make it fair?”

Keeping things fair was unquestionably one of the chief duties of an umpire.

“I have an idea,” Nurse Lockwood said and the three of them turned to hear her out.

***

Bex

The umps ended their huddle and Maggie, Ethan, and April went back to their bases while Dr. Abrams turned to address the crowd. “The play stands,” he said, voice ringing out loud and clear across the diamond. “Halstead is out.”

Jay and the rest of the CPD team started protesting instantly. “He’s a frickin’ dog,” Jay yelled. “He’s not on the team.”

“Thank you for bringing that up, Detective Halstead,” Dr. Abrams said mildly. “We have discussed the issue and it’s been decided that Kol the dog may play outfield for both teams for the remainder of the game.” He strode back toward home plate as everyone took that bit of information in.

“Yay, Kol!” Annabelle started cheering. “MVP!” The rest of the Herrmann kids joined in and soon the whole crowd was cheering for Kol. Jay threw his hands up in defeat.

Bex was vibrating with delight. This was the best thing to happen at any Grudge Match ever.

Ever.

She curled her fingers into the fence, leaning into it when Dr. Abrams came back to his spot behind Gabi. “Dr. Abrams?” she called out.

He looked over at her, one eyebrow raised in question.

“You are my hero and I love you,” Bex said, putting every ounce of earnestness that she had into her words.

A smile tugged at the edge of his mouth as Gabi nearly fell over laughing. “Just doing my job,” he said before putting his mask back in place. “Let’s play ball!”

Bex patted at her heart as she walked back to the canteen. Glorious. She stopped short as another incredible thought hit her.

Precedent. Beautiful, beautiful precedent.

“We’re totally making Kol a uniform for next year!” she yelled at her gang as she rejoined them.

***

Mouse

Ruzek struck out, but Burgess and Hailey made it on base. Not the best start to their inning and Jay was still pouting over Kol catching his flyout hit. Now it was Mouse’s turn at bat.

He picked out a bat, taking a few practice swings before stepping up to the plate. Before he could get into position—

“Go, Mouse!” a chorus of voices cheered. He whipped around to see Bex, Emery, Connor, and Will standing at the backstop fence with matching grins. Bex caught his eye and shrugged, her smile going soft.

“You got this,” she yelled.

“Eye on the ball!” Emery hollered.

“You can do it!” Will and Connor chimed in.

“Aw.” Dawson tilted her head up to squint at him. “You’re the CPD pick this year,” she said. “That’s cute.”

Mouse could feel the blush heating up his cheeks, but he shot a little smile back at Bex before squaring up to the plate. He swung hard at the first pitch, but Casey had a wily curve ball and he missed.

“Strike one!”

“Shake it off,” Will yelled out.

“Next one’s yours!” Bex cheered. “I can feel it!”

Emery and Connor added in their cheers and soon he could hear the voices of his group also cheering him on. The second pitch came barreling toward him and—

“Strike two!”

Bex and her crew kept clapping and cheering, shouting encouragement. His group had gotten to their feet and were…holding up signs? With his name?

“Mouse.”

He looked back at the fence where Bex was watching him steadily.

“Deep breath,” she said. “We’ll still be cheering even if you strike out. Just…have fun.”

Mouse took the deep breath. He nodded at Casey, ready for the next pitch. Casey wound up and let it fly. Mouse swung and—

Crack!

He opened his eyes to see the ball soaring out over the field.

“Mouse!” Bex yelled, laughing. “Run!”

Oh, right.

He took off, running as fast as he could toward first. Cruz had scooped up the ball and was throwing it to Kidd. Mouse slid into the base just as she caught it.

“Safe!” Maggie called out.

Kidd tossed the ball back to Casey and then reached down to help him up. “Nice moves, Mouse,” she said, snapping her gum with a grin.

“Thanks,” he said, ducking his head as he peeked back at home where Al was coming up to bat and Bex and her crew were already roasting him.

Mouse smiled to himself.

He was the pick.

Click here to read Chapter Nine. Click here to read Chapter Ten. Click here to read Chapter Eleven. Click here to read Chapter Twelve. Click here to read Chapter Thirteen. Click here to read Chapter Fourteen. Click here to read Chapter Fifteen. Click here to read Chapter Sixteen.

Click here to read 500 Miles on ao3:

Part two of the Grudge Match will be coming soon! The chapter was just getting crazy long so I figured that was a good spot to divide it at. :D

And here is the tag list (let me know if you wish to be added or removed):

@sorry-i-spaced, @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived, @ivyalmighty, @thewannabewriter, @lexhalstead3, @multifandomgrl08, @sensitivemallysix, @thebewingedjewelcat, @emme-looou,

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silverwingborn · 28 days

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“Sever the Ties”

Drabble from Silver’s past, back when she was still alive on Earth and traveling with her Nephilim flock.

TW: violence, gaslighting, abuse, injury, blood, trauma

The lock clicked open, her hand turning the knob and pushing the door inward. Silver stepped inside her apartment, expelling an exhausted breath. Slinging her pack off and tossing it on the floor, she kicked the door closed behind her with a heel. Dancing her fingers along the wall she reached blindly for the light switch. What a stupid setup this place was. Who installs a light switch so far from the front door? Finally her fingers grazed the switch, flicking it upwards.

The entry way remained dark.

“What the hell?” Silver flipped the toggle up and down to test it wasn’t just faulty wiring. The damn light was out. Groaning with annoyance, the Nephil felt her way along the wall as she strode for the next switch in the living room. The dark curtains of her apartment windows were drawn, only the edges haloed by a thin light. Finding the standing lamp, Silver felt for the turn switch, but no light was produced. Her entire apartment was without power.

“Damn it, this is not my day!” Producing a silvery flame in the palm of her hand, it produced enough glow, much like a candle stick. The glow and flickering of the flame danced light upon her brunette hair and blue-grey eyes. Sure she could produce her own light source, but it was not ideal by any means. If it’s a fuse that’s blown, she’d have to call the landlord-

“You always like to play with fire.”

The deep, husky voice of a man alarmed Silver, spinning around as the flame in her palm exploded into a small inferno. It was swiftly snuffed out by a cold, deliberate gust, the sound of a large wing sweeping the air and then folding once more. Cast into darkness, Silver could only see his eyes glowing across the room. A honey golden hue that stared unblinking, unemotional back at her. The Nephil felt a rise of anger, balling her fists as she shouted at the intruder.

“Damnit Faller! I told you not to sneak up on me like that! Did you kill my power? Again?! Jesus, man, you did this at the last place. I had to pay out of my own pocket for the repairs.”

The pair of glowing eyes slowly blinked before the sound of Faller’s body rising from the couch could be heard. The furniture creaked and groaned, as if crying out in relief the large man had finally gotten off of it. His eyes now stared down at Silver from across the room, his form barely silhouetted in the dark. He stood a hulking 6’10”, a towering man compared to the 5’6” woman. In three strides Faller stood before Silver, the heat of his body radiating so close against her own that she knew he must be inches apart.

“I see you took a trip,” he spoke smoothly, ignoring her quips about the power. The female Nephil’s eyes darted quickly to the bag in the hall she’d slung off, then quickly back to her flock leader. It was pointless to lie.

“Y-yes. Just a short one. I-I was only gone several days.”

“I know. You’d packed essential things. It was obvious you had no plans to come back from a short excursion.” There was no malice in his tone, simply observant and stating the facts. Reaching a hand out, his long fingers brushed past her cheek to glide through her brunette locks. His radiant eyes narrowed and Silver thought she could make out a grin in the darkness of his face.

“I was worried about you. You’d left the safety of your hiding grounds without consulting me. Why is that, my dearest?”

Her fingers smoothed over the fabric of Faller’s shirt as he pressed himself against her. They’d been intimate like this a few times. The gentle caresses and feeling of his hot breath upon her skin fed a deep hunger in Silver. The need to be touched, to be held, to feel loved more than just another flock member. A yearning for a partner. Faller never went far with his physical endearment, but his words always dripped with honey and lavender. A sweet calm that made the rest of the world disappear if only for a couple breathes.

“I didn’t want to bother you. It was just a short excursion. Trust me, I won’t do it again.”

“Oh you never bother me with your honesty, my shining light. And you’ll always be honest with me, won’t you?”

Words caught in her throat as Faller dipped his head, pressing his forehead against hers. Silver stared deeply back into his eyes, her own wide and vulnerable. Between her legs she him move his knee, keeping them pinned in place. She was utterly at his mercy now. Her heart thudded rapidly, the flow of adrenaline fueling this new excitement. Silver craved this, and yet had the nagging doubt she didn’t deserve him. Faller was far superior and better than her in every way. Stronger, faster, skilled beyond his age, a leader that lead his flock with confidence. She was a mere songbird and he was the eagle.

“Our flock may be apart for now, until the threat of the angels has passed. But we are always going to be your family.”

“I-I know. I miss my family so much-“

A flicker of light flashed in Faller’s eyes, like distant lightning of an impending storm. His mouth parted into a grin, expression empathetic to her longing. The fingers in her hair remained, entangling further to support her at the back of her head. His free hand rubbed gently up her arm, past her shoulder and came to rest at the nape of neck. A finger lifted to trace the tattoo on the side of her neck, where the concealed lightning like scars hid beneath the ink. Silver gasped softly, feeling the familiar hot tingling of his “gift”, the spot hypersensitive now after his bite and magic transfer.

The leader chuckled deeply, amused with her reaction.

“I felt such pride the day I shared my gift with you. My belief it will make you stronger, to excel your powers potential. I chose you, and no one else. Our flock has only grown stronger since we welcomed you in. Embraced you without merit and loved you fiercely.”

His large hand lifted from the mark to lift her chin until their lips remained inches apart. In a low, whispered voice, he spoke.

“And you repay us with treason.”

Silver’s brow furrowed, confused by his accusation.

“What? No. No I haven’t-“

“Oh but you have, Arianell. You disobeyed our flocks rule.”

Excitement quickly melted into anxiousness and embarrassment. Faller never used her true name, not after she renamed herself as the right to leave her past behind. He knew she went back to her home? To see her mother?

“Faller, I-”

“When we took you in we made it clear that we are your family now. All that was would remain in the past. You made your choice. You agreed to the flocks terms. And now, you have risked everyone’s lives with your selfishness.”

“No! That’s not true!”

His large hand swiftly gripped her jaw, the honey golden hues glowing fiercely. In them she say a storm swiftly building. Silver was frozen with fear. There was no escaping from Faller, never. The songbird was in the eagles claws now.

“I ask for your honesty and you cannot even offer that? Something so simple, and yet you use your silver tongue to spin lies and deceit. You deceived the flock, Silver. You turned your back on us all not once, not twice, but three times!”

The female Nephil yelped as she felt Faller’s sharp claw like nails dig into her scalp, hair gripped painfully tight. Shaking her head only increased the pain, forcing her to remain still and unable to avoid his venomous stare. Her hands feebly pushed against his chest, pulled at the hand that gripped her jaw. It was like fighting a marble statue. Tears began to roll down Silver’s face, her eyes terrified and words pleading.

“I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to endanger anyone. I never intended to cause potential harm! I-I just wanted to see my mother again.”

Dark wings flared behind Faller, rippling with electricity, the air in the room dropping dangerously cold. The sparks rolled over his feathers like a thundercloud, casting him and Silver into a ominous flickering glow. The lightning scars upon her neck took on the same glow, sending out electric shocks painfully into her body.

“You refuse to sever the ties of your past to rise to a future, Silver. And in doing so you take your whole flocks lives into your hands. A traitor, a liar, and a deceiver to us all. The angels could have found you. Followed you back to our flock. And all you have to say for it is “sorry?”

“Faller stop! Y-you’re hurting me! It hurts!”

She felt a sharp pain in the side of her jaw as Faller’s sharp thumb claw like nail pierced her skin. The blood drawn was crimson, running down his thumb and over his hand.

“Will you endanger our flock again?”

“NO!”

“Will you continue to be a liar and dishonest to us?”

“I WON’T!”

“Will you sever the ties to your past that you’ve so foolishly held onto?”

“I…”

Fallers thumb slide down and under her jaw, stopping at her throat. Blood seeped and dripped freely down her neck and spattered on her clothing. Silver sobbed, unable to struggle away. Crying for help would do no good either. A human was nothing more than a meat sack to a Nephil’s strength and power.

“I WILL SEVER THE TIES! I-I WON’T SEE HER AGAIN! I WON’T GO BACK TO MY OLD LIFE!”

“Swear it. Swear it on your LIFE. Swear it to ME. To your FLOCK. To the FAMILY YOU CHOSE!

“I SWEAR! I S-SWEAR ON MY LIFE! IT BELONGS ONLY TO THE FLOCK. TO YOU. I SWEAR I WILL NEVER BREAK THE RULES AGAIN!”

He leaned in close until he could whisper in her ear, his words coiled with a lethal edge.

“You will uphold this promise. If not, I will defend this flock by all means necessary. May this mark serve as a reminder.”

Silver felt his hands and body leave her, allowing the woman to collapse to the floor. On her knees, she clutched at the blood that poured freely from the long gaping wound. She looked up fearfully at Faller as he loomed over her, his eyes narrowed and body standing stoically.

“I will come for you when it is safe again for our flock to reconvene. You will remain here and not leave the safety of this town again. Understood?”

“Y-yes flock leader…”

The rolling lightning over his wings began to brighten and intensify, snapping and crackling in the air of the room. The light fixtures flickered wildly around them.

“Fair flight and may Heaven never see you, Arianell.”

In a flash and rumble of thunder that shook the building, Faller was gone. All the lights in the apartment complex burst, the distant shouts of tenants filling the quiet building. Silver remained on the floor, clutching the open wound as she sobbed. Wracked with guilt and fear, the Nephil knew she could never see her mother again. This was the one and only warning she would receive. Her leader had given her a merciful second chance. She would not betray her flock again. The only family she had now…

#ic #drabble #iisms: silvers flock #faller musings #(I haven’t written a Drabble in years let alone this intense of angst)#(I’m tagging everything under the sun in case lol)#violence tw #blood tw #abuse tw #trauma tw #gaslighting tw #injury tw #restraint tw

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katrinegrey · 9 months

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Notes from Blue Box Press' IG Live w/Jennifer L Armentrout (ASOAAB- 7/20/2023)

These are a culmination of the big notes I made while watching the IG live (which should be on Blue Box Press' IG if you want to watch yourself). This is for my reference going forward, but I thought y'all might enjoy it too.

-Always had planned to do a Casteel POV of From Blood and Ash

-Realized a Cas POV would've been a lot of standing around, guard duty, and bickering w/Vikter so she switched things up.

-Wanted ASOAAB to move the plot forward a bit more than your standard retelling would.

-JLA Always knew that Poppy would go into stasis at some point. We'll learn more about stasis in A Fire in the Flesh in October.

-Tried to put as much new material in ASOAAB as possible. Was difficult to fit more new material in when working within the tight timeline already present in FBAA.

-From the mouth of JLA: If you haven't read TWOTQ, somethings in ASOAAB won't make sense. If you haven't read ASOAAB, some things in the next installment won't make sense.

-The labeling/naming of the chapters was very intentional. "If Cas had to summarize that part of his life..."

-Some of JLA's favorite parts of ASOAAB: The Duke scene, the scene after they arrived at New Haven, and the opening line to the chapter 'Necessary Supplies'.

-Hardest scenes to write were formulating the justifications for Cas' actions onto paper even though she already knew them.

-As for knowing when a book ends "You just know." The story tells you. You might go in with one ending, but the story has a different plan.

-Next book is last with Poppy and Cas as narrators (mentioned briefly that they might not be the ONLY narrators in the next book). There is one more book planned after Poppy and Cas' next book that sounds like a continuation of the plot. It just won't have Poppy and Cas at the helm.

-Male POV's are easier for her to write than female.

-Sera acts first and dwells on her actions and such later whereas Poppy thinks over every little thing first before acting.

-Ash has unhinged moments but is more stable/smooth than Cas. Not a lot of knee jerk reactions from Ash.

-ASOAAB took 3 months to write.

-Readers favorite scenes tend to be the more filler scenes. "Emil's life gets threatened a lot in those scenes." These are used to flesh out secondary characters and provide humor.

-Why honeydew? It was a personal joke she inserted because a lot of older historical romance novels will describe "down there" as 'smelling like peaches'. She thought that was funny and tossed honeydew in and it stuck.

-Delano as a marshmallow started in JLAnders like Casserole and Daddy Nyktos.

-"Why do you like torturing us?" "Because it's fun?"

-Doesn't ever set out to make people cry. Wants people when they get to the last book of a series to feel like they're 'in a good place'. She will always end with a HEA. It's just that the journey to get there will hurt.

-She considers her bonus scenes she writes outside of the books 'partly out of canon'. This applies to Cupcakes & Kisses bonus scene.

-When writing about trauma and mental health, she tries to keep the characters' responses as realistic as possible. Doesn't like characters who always respond perfectly to everything because 'that's just not real!'

-Information for the Visions compendium: A lot of information comparable to an editor's bible. Told in Miss Willa's style. Visions will have diary entries from Miss Willa, information about bloodlines, gods, dieties, wolven, etc., original artwork (characters, crowns, craven, draken, thrones, etc.), bonus scenes (one with Poppy & Tawny among others), JLA interviewing Kieran ("He was a fucking asshole!" "was just not having it!".

-"Who do you plan on killing next?" "Everyone."

-Will there be a B&A/F&F crossover? "Yeah?!" (Sera is awake and when she woke, she also woke all of the other gods and "other things". Upon waking, Sera was immediately "someone's gonna get their ass whooped" and Ash gets her to back off.

-AFITF originally had a different name.

-Went right from writing ASOAAB into writing AFITF.

-"You would've thought Cas descended from Sera." [with how they act sometimes] "Vastly different characters that are sometimes similar in the things they do."

-Cas is many, many, many generations down from Attes. "Not like he's his grandad."

-JLA has a heavy hand in the covers, what she wants to see in them. She made a point of wanting poppies to be featured on ASOAAB's cover because they haven't been featured yet. Originally wanted the Atlantian crest, but that wouldn't have worked with the story. Instead the bloodstone sword and sun were chosen.

-"Pay very close attention to the maps in coming books."

-Kieran doesn't have a middle name. Most don't. It's certain elemental Atlantian's at this point who do.

I'm sorry if I forgot anything major! Let me know if you guys have any theories sparking from anything that was said today!

#jennifer l armentrout #asoaab spoilers #asoaab #instagram live #blue box press #from blood and ash #casteel da’neer #kieran contou #flesh and fire series

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kotias · 5 months

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An Arrangement in Black (part 8) - angst war contribution

@daneecastle @gleafer @vavoom-sorted-art @lauramoon1987 @gahellhimself-blog @goodomensafterdark @hakunahistata

Beginning - Part 7 - Part 9

Word count: 506 words

Trigger warnings: religious trauma and behaviour, mutilation on the body

We're slowly gearing up to the end, only 2 parts left after this one!

Dum.

Crowley’s hooded figure stopped in front of a small church in the middle of the village he had been inspecting. His eyes travelled from the porch to the large wooden door to the stone lintel surrounding it to the roof. They paused on the large cross above and he took a ragged breath. Pushed by an incomprehensible need, he walked closer to it, opened the holy place, and felt the scorching hurt on his hand as he did so.

Dum.

His lips trembling with the weight of the sins he had been forced to accomplish, he stepped into the House of God, was given a scalding punishment under his feet with each new stride he took toward the altar, guided by the cold silence of a dead community. He stopped a few paces from it, the torture spreading up his calves.

Dum.

To the holy burn was added the pain of the floor joining his knees far too quickly as he dropped, his back arching, his head low and arms dangling to his sides.

Dum.

“Mother, I have committed the unforgivable, I fear.”

Dum.

He closed his eyes. The stench following him everywhere he went was ever present, clawing at him like a rabid badger.

Dum.

A presence kneeled by his side. He needn’t open his eyes to recognise the hallowed air that surrounded the angel he had come to know. He needn’t say a word to acknowledge him either.

For a long time, long after the echoes of the church’s last bell rang into its walls and into his body, they both stayed silent, abandoned all breath, and stopped the sounds of their own hearts. Only then did he open his eyes, blurry from the midnight darkness.

“Angel?” A hum came as an answer. His heart froze in his chest entirely. “... How does one confess to one’s sins?” The thought of reminiscing alone made him shiver. Yet, he felt Aziraphale’s eyes burning him with questions that he kept to himself.

He heard him stand up on his feet and felt his gentle hand on his shoulders. “In every church, there are… confessionals. I will go on one side of it, you will go on the other. It is a method to allow the person to speak freely, without being seen by the priest, who only acts as a…”

“Voice of God?”

“... If you wish to call it that way, yes.”

Crowley slowly stood up, burning his palms as he touched the ground, feeling the hurt on his knees, on his shin, on his feet. Looking at his hands, that simple, quick contact with hallowed ground to heave himself up had uncovered the monstrous scales behind the skin, and he groaned.

He followed the angel to a small wooden installation, opened the left door and sat into the small bench inside. Aziraphale sat on the other side, and they were separated by a simple enclosure, plunging them into nearly full obscurity and making it impossible to see one another.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens after dark #angst war #writing #fanfic #church #GOAD

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sleepysheepyeclipse · 1 year

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Jealousy Jealousy

A sheep x Nariender fanfic (1/2)

Summary: Narinder is finding himself in a position after being well settled in the cult where he knows of a new friend’s affection for their leader, and takes the sideline for them.

TW: Feelings of inadequacy, mentions of & allusions to cannibalism, and unrequited feelings, Love…Triangle? Tangle? Something. Spoilers for the game.