#but I may post a full fic again eventually

[obbystars]

It hurts to be something, it’s worse to be nothing with you.

NOTES: dividers by @cafekitsune !!

( Written before 2.2 / Kinda short tbh / Boothill may be OOC / not really angst as it turns into fluff tbh / I blame this / title was chosen because I was listening to the song at the time / GN!Reader )

It took a while for Boothill to even get used to this new life, or new body. Every time he looked at himself, he’s reminded of what was stolen from him. For a time, he hated his body. He sometimes wished he stayed dead. He feels so cold. He didn’t… He never wanted this, though as time passed, he grew accustomed to it. He eventually accepted it, but it never stopped those thoughts from worming their way back into his head.

He doesn’t quite feel… human. Nothing about him truly felt human.

“Boothill? You still there?” The voice was barely above a whisper.

“Hm?”

The gentle beating of a heart entered his ears. He felt warm. He felt a warm hand gently rubbing his face. Another hand was playing with a few strands of his hair before it was now gently brushing it. He opened his eyes, finding himself in an all too familiar room. One he had always looked forward to going back to once he finally had time to spare.

And underneath him? His favorite person, of course. Someone he always looked forward to seeing again, to spending more time with. He looks up at you, and you took note of his expression.

“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you up?”

He shook his head, burying his face into your chest and closing his eyes again, “No, no ya didn’t... Don’t worry ‘bout it,”

His arms were wrapped securely around your waist, trapping you in bed with him. You wiggled around in his grip for a bit to get a bit comfortable, resulting in you having to move him further up. His face was now in the crook of your neck.

Was he crushing you? Surely if he was, you would’ve said something or even tried to nudge him away. Were you cold? He hoped not… You did sometimes push him off of you because he was too cold. Sometimes he wishes he could provide you the warmth you always give him, but it’s not like he can feel it anywhere else other than his face. He hated that.

“You okay?” You questioned, your voice snapping him back to reality.

His answer was only a faint hum this time. He feels your hand brush his hair again, and you swear you can just feel him melt under your touch. It surprised you sometimes. A brash, flamboyant Galaxy Ranger, always full of energy and ready for the next journey across the stars almost turning into mush once your hands meet him. It was something you picked up on very quickly, and it didn’t take as long for you to realize why he reacts this way.

“Does it bother you?”

Your hands stop moving through the white strands, “Does what bother me?”

“This… My body. Does it-”

“No. Not at all,” you suddenly cut in, “You get cold sometimes, but that doesn’t bother me. Why do you ask?”

“…it’s nothin’,”

You turn your head to face him, nuzzling him knowing he can feel you there, “Well… It definitely is something, but… Whenever you’re ready, I’m all ears,”

He can feel you gently press a kiss on his head, and another, and another, and another. The only place where he can feel you, and you were practically showering him with small kisses.

He feels warm, especially when he’s with you. Maybe that’s why he always looks forward to moments like this with you because for once, even if it’s just for a moment, he feels human.

ehhh, this felt better in my head but oh well, I just really wanted to write Boothill

I don’t regularly post fics or hcs like this but maybe I’ll make a silly side blog for it if I do find myself wanting to write so much more for Boothill ( I literally love him so much )

#it was gonna be a frank sinatra lyric but it turned into laufey #i love laufey #the frank sinatra one was gonna be and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you #it sounded nice #honkai star rail boothill #hsr boothill #boothill x reader #boothill #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #star rail #hsr x reader

[ino-tamukas-baggy-sweater]

The Blessing to Your Curse - Part 1 (Ryomen Sukuna x Reader)

Hey y’all I’m back again so soon with another fic, Sukuna’s lover reincarnation (whatever you call it) has me in a chokehold right now and I thought I’d share this with the world. Would like to warn you there is a lot of strange jumping around/pov changes which are indicated by the change in pronouns, I would mark each change but it would get a bit messy after a while so I hope it’s not too hard to follow! ^-^

Reader’s powers involve something I like to call ‘blessed energy’ which is the opposite to cursed energy and is mostly used for healing (reverse blessed energy is used to harm in the same way reverse CE is used to heal) and it’s something I created to use with my writings in the JJK universe. (sometimes I write it a little op because im a self-indulgent piece of shit so for most of what I post I’ll probably dial it back if I use it hehe) The reader has a similar situation to Maki/Mai (MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD) where one twin is restricted and the other has all the energy, and when the one with the energy dies the living twin gains all the power, so I hope that makes sense in context of the story

(PLEASE DON'T HESITATE TO SEND A REQUEST!!!! I'M ALWAYS IN NEED OF NEW PROMPTS AND CHARACTERS TO GO WITH THEM ❤)(I have a post which outlines characters I mostly write for but I'm open to adding to that list!!)

Warnings: mild description of mutilation (sukuna’s transformation), main character death (not described), fluff

Word count: 2.4k

“Ryomen!” You laugh, trying to keep a few steps ahead of the young man who chases after you. Your legs tire easily, body frail and sick despite the immense power flowing through your veins. “I’m coming for you!” He growls playfully, “Better run!” He’s holding back from his top speed, this you know well, but you refuse to let that stop you from trying to keep up with his childish play. Still young, 16 and 17 with him being the older one, you insist that you would rather spend the rest of your life here with him than being shepherded around in the village like a priestess.

This is your only escape from the temple on the hill, only solitude, your time with Ryomen Sukuna is precious and you treat it as such, thinking only of him and his rare smiles. You refuse to let the village’s words taint your view of him, as powerful as he is with his cursed energy there is good in him and you seek to nurture it, for both simple selfish gain and so he doesn’t turn on everyone like they did him. You reach the treeline and race out into the meadow, the grass tall and soft around your waist having stripped down from your daily ceremonial robes into just modest loose undergarments.

He does eventually catch up near the middle of the meadow, springing out of the grass and tackling you to the ground, making sure to roll so you land on top of him and he takes the full force of the fall. The last time you returned to the village after a long day of simple play with bruises and scrapes you weren’t allowed to leave the village for a few weeks.

He’s grown quite a lot larger than you during his time in exile, to be expected when you have to fend for yourself against wild animals and build your own shelter, “You’re getting stronger every day,” You smile, pushing yourself off him and laying in the grass, staring up at the beautiful pink of the sunset. “Well I have to, to be able protect you, I’m not the only thing out there you know,” He says, his tone almost too blasé for what he’s implying. You tilt your head and trace the lines of his tattoos with your eyes, “I know you’re not, but you’re not a thing to me Ryomen,” You murmur, “Please, you’re the closest thing I have to a friend, you’ve always been human to me,”

He meets your gaze, his eyes used to be brown, but the red no longer worries you like it used to, “One day I’ll get you out of that village,” He says softly, his words for your ears and the rustling grass only, “I will take you far away from here and we can live somewhere untouched by the rest of the world,” You sit up, looking down at him as you hug your knees to your chest, “I’d like that,” You say, smiling, “Just the two of us,” Nothing could touch you while you were together, the world stood still for you, not even the scathing remarks you sometimes got from the other young girls of the village could hurt you.

The world is volatile, things can change so quickly. Curses are still so new to the world of humans, sorcerers that act as protectors are only just starting to appear among humans and spread themselves between villages when the day finally comes. The wave of hatred and anguish that came with the curses suffocated everything in its path. You were outside the village when it happened, returning from a visit with Sukuna, and you returned to find nothing but death and destruction. More than half of the village had been killed with no discrimination towards age or gender, and it only soothed you a little to see your old family home empty when you wrenched the door open. No blood nor bodies of any kind. Your parents and sister had made it out alive, but the temple atop the hill that you resided in was completely engulfed.

You weren’t naïve, you did not attempt to return to the temple, but they came for you all the same because your energy was like a beacon for them, and they were programmed to destroy. Running with Ryomen had improved your strength over the time you spent together, you supposed that was one of the ways he took care of you in his silent brooding way, but it wasn’t enough to get you all the way to him. He must have sensed your fear as you grew nearer, your breaths shallow and your chest tight, his eyes are the last thing you remember seeing before your soul was harshly liberated from your flesh.

The smell of blood permeated through layers of warmth that held you in suspension beyond life, but you felt yourself being dragged back to the ground, standing over your own body as you watch the only person outside of your immediate family who ever truly cared for you cry. You had never seen him cry before, it was cathartic to know even he still felt human somewhere inside while holding your weak broken body to his bare tattooed chest.

You felt his cursed energy filling the air like smoke, almost able to see it in the purgatory state you’re trapped in, his body shaking and his muscles twitching. It was like watching someone turn themselves inside out when it finally happened, his body began changing before your eyes, an extra pair of arms sprout from the top of his ribcage just under the normal ones. His face contorts with an agonized cry and one half becomes unrecognisable, the flesh pink and hardened into some sort of twisted mask, and to finish the monstrous transformation a second pair of eyes open under his regular ones.

Drenched in sweat and breathing heavily as he cradles you, you hear him make one last promise, one that locks around what remains of your essence like chains and puts you into a deep sleep. “I will burn this world for taking you from me, I will become the King of Curses, and when you are reborn I shall make you remember, make you my Queen, I will bind myself to you to protect you,” It’s the final part that reassures you he isn’t losing himself as the darkness consumes you, “When I find you, the world will be right once again,”

Now it had been over a thousand years since the light in Sukuna’s life had gone out, reducing him to a killing machine that punished the world for snuffing it out, and he had returned once more in the body of a naive 15 year old boy with pink hair. Having been preserved as twenty separate cursed objects since his untimely death he was eager to resume his self-assigned purge, but the boy had more control over his body than Sukuna could break through, leaving him trapped within his innate domain watching through Yuji Itadori’s eyes like they’re windows.

“I had to do it at least once,” He grumbles to himself as the boy sits up, stark naked, on the morgue table, surprising the three sorcerers in the room with the formerly dead boy. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Yuji, come,” Gojo instructs as the boy slips on some clothes handed to him. “Another sorcerer?” He asks. “You’ll see when we get there,” The taller man beckons him and they make their way to a house on the furthest outskirts of the Jujutsu high campus, small in size and surrounded by forest on all sides except for the path leading up to the entrance.

A fire burns in the chimney and the house is warm when the pair steps inside, “L/n!” Gojo calls out. Sukuna’s attention is elsewhere as around the corner down the hall out walks a pure angel, her energy blinding and her form strong. “Gojo!” She smiles, “Who’s this?” “This is Yuji Itadori, Ryomen Sukuna’s vessel,” She bows politely, “Welcome to my home,” She looks back up into Yuji’s eyes as he smiles, “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Enchain!” Sukuna shouts, and suddenly he’s thrown violently to the forefront of Yuji’s mind. His trump card, wasted. He hadn’t considered the potential consequences, it had been instinctual and foolish of him. The girl didn’t know who he was, but he wanted to speak to her all the same. He would make her know. He cannot stumble, he cannot falter, not when she’s right there and all he has to do is show her, “Y/n,” He murmurs. “That’s not Yuji,” She frowns, her voice soft, “That’s-” Before the two can react Sukuna is on his knees before her, holding her hands in his and hiding against her soft clothing. “I’ve…” Gojo trails off, “I’ve never seen that before,” The girl doesn’t let him go, and he feels her power reach into him, feeling around in the darkest parts of his soul, “My Queen,” He mutters, feeling the metaphysical chains around his heart tighten, “Please, remember,”

A fast surge of energy from Gojo causes the man on his knees before you to react just as quickly, pulling you tighter against him and then seemingly teleporting out the open door into the clearing, “It’s rude to attack ROYALTY!” He roars as Gojo steps out the door after the pair of you. Sukuna has planted himself firmly between the two of you, “You sorcerers never learn manners!” Something happens when your skin next touches his, his hand shooting out to catch you by your wrist as you fail to keep your balance.

A flood of memories that don’t belong to you, in fact, ones that belong to him. You see yourself, weak and frail but smiling widely, Sukuna as he is in front of you now not as he is described in sorcerer texts. A regular human man with an abnormal amount of tattoos, fiercely protective and full of love for the only person who still sees him as human. You vaguely feel yourself fall to your knees as everything from the day he was exiled to the day you died returned to your mind. You knew that despite the life you had lived for twenty years, you were in fact over a thousand years old.

This wasn’t your life, this wasn’t your body, it was hers, but you are her. You can feel the chains, too, the ones he put there the day you died to ensure that you would return. “The world took her from me, and the world paid the price, now BACK OFF!” His words shake you out of your visions, his hand still clutching your wrist as your head hangs weakly.

“Come now, Sukuna, taking hostages isn’t your style, you know that,” Gojo bargains, “Let her go, and we can fight like men,” You shake your head, “No,” You murmur, “No, Gojo,” You finally look up into his eyes, slightly uncovered as he prepares to fight, “He’s right, I know who I am, I know where my clan comes from,” He doesn’t make a move towards you and you take the opportunity to speak again, “My mother was blessed, her child would calm the beast, but she had two and one was weak in body strong in energy, the other was lacking in energy but strong of body,” Your sister had been the one the clan records mentioned, nobody remembered the girl who died alone in Ryomen Sukuna’s arms.

“I am the Queen to Ryomen Sukuna’s King,” You breathe, feeling his grip on your wrist go lax. His energy dies away and he falls to his hands and knees, but the tattoos are gone. “Yuji!” Gojo’s shoulders finally relax and he recovers his eyes, “What happened? How did he get through?” “Don’t ignore me, Satoru,” You state firmly, “Sukuna will not be a threat while I am alive,” “Can you guarantee that?” He’s always been intimidating, but this man was a part of your training as a sorcerer, and he can be rational when he wants to be.

“You’re an imbecile if you think I’m going to go back on a binding vow,” Sukuna spits from Yuji’s cheek, the boy not even having a chance to get a word in, “She is the only thing in this forsaken world I care about and you’re not about to take that away from me just so you can pretend like you’re the saviour of humanity,” You don’t remember ever being as harsh as Sukuna is right now, but his rage fills you with confidence and admiration, “I can guarantee humans will not fall as long as I am alive, his vow makes sure of it, though I’m sure he would not need it either way,”

The secondary eye on Yuji’s cheek closest to you locks its gaze onto you, “Ever so cunning, I wish I’d had the chance to nurture your hatred towards the village, maybe you’d be more open to killing,” He sounds almost wistful, “But alas, I did make a promise, and I intend to keep it, no matter how idiotic I think you sorcerers are,” You finally move to stand back on your feet, helping Yuji up with a tentative smile, “It’s nice to meet you Itadori,” You murmur, “I’m sorry you have to listen to that punk, you come to me if he gives you trouble alright?” The boy nods, his previously cheery demeanour replaced with something mellower and he seems deep in thought as he looks into your eyes.

“He really loves you,” He murmurs in disbelief, “I didn’t… I didn’t think he was truly capable of love, after what he did to me,” You shrug, “It’ll make sense one day, but I’ll let him be the one who opens up, it’s not my place to air out thousand year old dirty laundry with people who are long dead anyway,” Your words hang in the air as Gojo finally sighs. The discussion and conclusion are finalised when he leaves, Yuji will live with you and you will suppress Sukuna’s energy. You will keep the world safe by preserving your life, lest another binding vow come down upon your departing soul and the King of curses be forced to unleash his merciless fury once more.

Sukuna is a little shit and out of character because it’s my fic and I get to write the male love interest however I want (I tried besties :( I don’t like mean Sukuna but I do love “I hate everyone but you” so that’s what you get) also I wrote this instead of sleeping at 2am, the brainrot is real and this will probably end up being a series because I can’t control myself

Part 2 here!

Post dividers from @cafekitsune

#jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #true form sukuna #ryomen sukuna #yuji itadori #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk sukuna #heian era #jjk x reader

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Hi there,

Saw your post about Cajun/cowboy Alastor and OMG! I don’t have many ideas other then maybe he plays poker for souls or something like that and maybe a reader comes into town and is just as good at poker as he is. And he cannot seem to win, leading him to become mildly obsessed over winning their soul.

Thats all I have as I don’t know much about cajun/cowboy stuff.

I’ll let you know if I have any other ideas!

Thank you!

Alastor - [ ACE OF HEARTS ]

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A/N: Omg, I love your take on cowboy Al! It got me thinking about it for days. I have never played poker, so I had to watch multiple YouTube videos to understand the game while writing this. Hopefully, it came out accurate enough! Also, this is a very, VERY traumatic/smut-heavy fic I'm working on, so please be aware and know I don't endorse anything I write.

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ GUN PLAY… ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON….eventually.] + [ SLIGHT/IMPLIED AGE GAP ] + [ MENTIONS OF GORE/BLOOD/CANNABILISM ] + [ KIDNAPPING…sort of?.. ] + [ PARENTAL PHYSICAL AB*SE…eventually..] + [ ANGST/TRUAMA…]

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**Cowboy Alastor** is known for his record of killing, is a skilled bounty hunter, and is far from a decently moral one. Everyone assumes his motives, guessing who his next target is and if he’ll ever feel guilt for what he does to them.

He doesn't.

What kind of demon would he be if he did…

Besides, the people he kills owe him in one way or another, all in debt to the red demon by their stupidity and lust for life, so he feels nothing for them when the time comes for the price of their deals to be paid.

Alastor arrives for them in the dead of dry nights, taking their last breath with a single bullet to the head or a clean cut across the throat. Their pleas do little to affect his decision.

“A deal is a deal…”

He reminds them that escaping a bloody end is impossible, already solidified by their selfish desires, and no amount of begging will change his mind. They curse his name, glaring at the grin on his face as he draws nearer with deathly intent in his eyes, and it only grows as he derives pleasure from their refusal to cooperate.

The riches, the riding, and the roughness he endures daily are nothing compared to the satisfaction he gets from killing. Others may deal in chasing oil, farming land, and cattle, but he stakes his fulfillment in the business of blood.

**Cowboy Alastor** dabbles in gambling when he's not off-striking deals with lowly souls or wreaking havoc on those he deems deserving.

Every city south of New Orleans with a bar or saloon welcomes his visits and not by choice.

Those who don't meet his standards or demands of hospitality drop from the face of the earth at his will, burning to a crisp full of the dead occupants who so lightly offended him, and never to be rebuilt out of fear he'd return to demolish it again.

He surely would, but no one has yet to test the theory in fear of a painful death by his hands.

Alastor leisurely travels the expanse of Louisiana's countryside, partial to riding wherever the wind blows, but he’ll always return to the rumbling city of New Orleans.

Whether for personal reasons or because his beloved mother wished to see him, it becomes second nature for the deer demon to reside there randomly. It was his hometown, after all, and he preferred the taste of whiskey from a familiar place over foreign alcohol in far-off dusty taverns he'd never visit again.

The saloon he fancies sits opposite the central townhouse, a tall building at the end of a main street that never seemed to rest.

Lafitte’s Blacksmith Bar

Summer nights brought out and drew in more people, filling the bar with patrons who knew of his deeds and those who’d only heard scarring stories about him through the ladder. The knowledge of a red reaper roaming the towns of Louisiana varied, but their fearful respect of him was abundant the moment Alastor stepped foot into the bustling bar.

He was there, in good spirits for the most part, but still an impossible threat they couldn't brush off.

**Cowboy Alastor** greets the silent patrons with a sly grin, tipping his hat to the fear-stricken owner who eyed him from behind the packed bar.

“Don't let me interrupt the fun, Cher. I'm not here to cause you trouble… that's if you're kind enough to indulge me.”Alastor chuckles, not waiting for a proper response from anyone as he stalks over to his usual spot in the smokey parlor.

A group of cattlemen stiffen in their seats as he walks by, all grabbing their drinks as swiftly as possible before leaping up from their table to avoid him, and their skittish actions cause Alastor to laugh as he settles into a particular backroom booth.

It was customary for people to keep their distance from him, some deterred by his striking appearance while others simply didn't want to risk involvement with a known killer. He saw nothing wrong with their aversion, glad that his reputation proceeded him, but there were those single few who saw him as a challenge rather than a threat.

Poor fools…

Mortal or not, he ran into them regularly, welcoming their duels like a bored child getting a new toy to destroy, and though he knew they'd fail to win against him, he'd never turn down a good game.

Ever…

**Cowboy Alastor** lets the saloon wind into chaos again, humming along to the melody of music and rowdy singing while getting comfortable in his secluded spot.

His hat rests low on his head, shielding most of his red gaze from those who look his way, only leaving the view of his Cheshire smile and effectively signaling his oddly calm demeanor. Alastor slipped his riding jacket off, tossing the tailored burgundy clothing across the back of the booth, his leather and suede black gloves following suit.

“What a day it's been…” he mumbled while flexing his long fingers, relaxing his posture while leaning back and rolling his neck until a soft ‘pop’ was heard.

Consequently, the tension tangled in his limber body from riding all day unraveled. Alastor sucked his teeth at the feeling, licking his lips as a satisfied groan left them, and just as he sat forward again, the owner hurried to his table with a bottle of alcohol and a tray of cigars.

“Your usual, Al,” he split out, setting the items in front of him with shakey hands, and Alastor clicks his tongue at the nervous tick. He'd come to this bar for years, and the old man still trembled in his boots around him. The poor fool wouldn't dare admit his fear either, rushing off as soon as he reached for the bottle, and though some might consider his retreat rude, Alastor found it amusing.

Flattering, even.

**Cowboy Alastor** drinks slowly, letting the whiskey burn his tongue and drowning the malt taste with languid drags from a cigar.

Eyes scan over him, women whisper about him lustfully under the rowdy music, and the men keep their senses about them with happy trigger fingers.

Because as they say: “Red Reaper, Red Reaper. The devil's solemn deal keeper. Beware him & the hell he seeks…”

Alastor imposes his intensity, grinning at those who stare too long, watching the women who drink him in with an equally sultry stare, and daring the men to throw a bullet his way with a knowing smirk. He invites trouble, waiting for it like a preying snake in tall, dry grass, but after some time, he assumes no one in the saloon will accept his invitation.

That is until you step in, looking lost among the worldly thrills of a bar but unafraid to venture further into it with an air of certainty surrounding you.

**Cowboy Alastor** makes no move to approach you, laid back as ever, as he observes the gentle way you speak to men who drunkenly approach you. They make offers to dance, almost crowding your more diminutive form as you trail to the bar.

“Sorry, boys, but I'm here on business, not pleasure. Now, run along..” you wave them away playfully, purposely flirtatious but avidly stern.

He expects them to continue bugging you; you're a doll, after all, prettier than most women he's seen. However, the men retreat politely, leaving you be as the owner approaches your side, and you immediately turn to hug him despite his apparent concerned expression.

Alastor observes the exchange closely, reading your lips perfectly while sipping at his drink, and it's all too easy for him to assess the situation.

The daughter of a businessman returns home after finishing school in the north, wanting to visit him at work as a pleasant surprise, but he's far from happy about a young lady like yourself being out late at night in a place like this.

You're too mannered to be seen around the patrons, it's dangerous for you to ride alone in the evening, and your father isn't pleased you intend to stay out to celebrate your school completion.

He tells you it's best to go home, that he'll come with you, but you insist on staying and remind him, “I'm not your little girl anymore, Daddy!..” The older man can't seem to rein you in, having to drop the lecture as a small brawl breaks out in the corner of the saloon, which draws his attention immediately, and this leaves you to wander the scene freely.

A perfect time for Alastor to reel you in close and personal…

**Cowboy Alastor** whistles when you walk past his area, catching your attention with a short, soulful melody, and you quickly notice him in the dim back room.

“Hi there, lil’ lady. Searchin' for somethin'?” He inquires playfully, tone bordering sensual, and his grin slipping into a closed smile as your gaze settles on him.

You’re curious, not scared of him like most are, and the moment he speaks to you, questions race through your head.

Who is he?

How have you never seen him here before?

Why, in God's name, is he sitting away from the masses?

Is he a rider, a hunter, or maybe a convict?

It was hard to tell from a distance, so without a second thought, you flashed him a gentle smile, gradually approaching where he sat, “Hello, and who might you be, sir?” You chirp a greeting, resisting the urge to bite your lip as he stares into your wandering gaze.

Alastor assumed you’d been away from the South too long to realize who he was, that your father's earlier warning didn’t sprout from overprotectiveness but rather fear of his presence.

You didn’t see him as a threat, nor a danger, but a new face in an old town.

He chuckles, putting out his cigar after taking a particularly long drag from it, blowing smoke past his lips with a coy hum. You blink as the convoluted air fans your face, unbothered by it and itching for a taste of tobacco yourself. It’d been a few years since you’d let loose, not allowed to frequent bars or act unladylike in the limelight of northern modesty.

“A loyal patron, but it’s been some time since I’ve paid this place a visit.” He answers you politely, an odd trait that most men only reserved for themselves but refreshing to experience.

“Oh, well, that’s nice to hear, but your name is what I would like to know.”

A tender smirk stretches your lips, a red hue dusting your cheeks as he tips his hate apologetically before uttering a response, “Alastor Hartifelt. A pleasure to meet you, Miss…” he pauses, quirking a brow at you expectantly, and you take a moment to analyze him further.

You've heard your father utter his name many times before your departure to the north. He'd described him brutally, having less than pleasant things to say about bounty hunters in general but especially about the man in front of you now. You'd heard people talk of his deeds, deals, and evil.

He was dubbed the ‘Red Reaper’ for a good reason, lurking around in the bitter nights and drawing blood from one poor soul or another in his travels.

Supposedly, he was a terrifying monster, but you'd always found beauty in the demented. It was one of the reasons your father had sent you away, but fortunately, the influence of the posh upper class did nothing to change your consciousness.

Besides, the rumors had failed to mention how attractive the red reaper was, let alone dashing. He seemed nice enough hadn't flashed his weapon, threatened, or catcalled you disrespectfully.

So, you found no harm in telling him your name, “Y/n L/n. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Hartifelt.” You blink slowly, drowning in his red eyes, unconsciously swaying where you stood, back to a wall that hid your presence near him from your father's eyes and the curious stares of others.

Alastor glanced at the space beside him, silently asking that you join him, but unlike most women, he rarely took an interest in, you didn't move until he asked you outright.

“Would you care to join me for a drink, Miss L/n? I'd like to have your company for a while..”

He doesn't speak any louder than needed, using every bit of charm he has to lure you in, and you let him believe he's succeeded with a sensual laugh and purring laugh.

“Why, I thought you'd never ask..”

**Cowboy Alastor** asks a lot of questions. Subtly gathering information about you that he has no use for.

You give him answers; some are lies, others are indiscriminate truths, but you can't bring yourself to be completely honest with a stranger known for his cunning. He keeps your glass full, pacing the liquor with you, reveling in your gentle laughter after every sip, and softening faster and faster the longer you conversed.

You kept your wits about you as best as possible, inviting his fleeting touches but never going further than whispering in his ear or tapping a finger under his sharp chin when he'd stare too long.

Alastor didn't mind your soft hands on him, nor your lingering gaze and confident provocations. He absentmindedly returned the gestures just as boldly.

Your fifth glass of whiskey was running low, and without a hint of hesitation, he refilled it alongside his own. You watched as the amber liquid filled each glass, utterly relaxed as he spoke to you tenderly, “You say your father sent you far up north. May I ask why?…”

He peers at you, sliding the transparent glass into your waiting hand, and you chuckle wryly while taking a sip. “Daddy says it was for my good. You see, my mother is a stickler about manners, and I didn't have much of any growing up. Ironic, seeing as I was raised well enough.” you paused, frowning at the memory of your strict but loving mother.

She was lovely to look at and kind most of the time, but her ambitions for you outweighed her patience. Alastor noted the haunting sadness in your eyes but said nothing as you continued, looking out into the crowd of patrons fussing about as you did.

“My mother died a few years back, leaving daddy to handle me, and when he realized he couldn't manage the business and a daughter, he sent me away. Couldn't blame him either; I was getting into trouble left and right and had some bad habits on the rise, too.”

His ears perked at the words ‘bad habits’ leaving your lips, naturally drawn to knowing a mortal's darkest secrets, so he pressed for clarification.

“Bad habits, you say? I couldn't imagine a sweet thing like you havin’ such things.”

You scoffed, glad your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol buzz to mask the blush his comment invoked, “Well…I did. Still do if I'm honest.” you admit in a hushed tone, knocking back the last of your drink before glancing his way.

“It's hard to resist doing things you're good at.”

Alastor leaned back into the seat, drink in one hand, the other fixing his hat so it sat back on his head. The adjustment gave you a peek at his fluffy red hair and the distinctive blood-marked x on his forehead. You thought to ask what the mark meant but saved the question for later, as he agreed with your statement.

“Very true, ma chere. Although I'm one for killin’, your passion may not be so grizzly and easier to alleviate.”

“My father thinks gambling is just as bad as killing. It doesn't matter if he's addicted to it himself or not. If I do it…I'm the devil's daughter in his eyes..” You roll your eyes, an action that jolts a nerve Alastor hasn't felt in years and subconsciously doesn't ignore.

“Gambling? That's your unproper poison?” he narrows his gaze as you nod lazily, a few ringlets of your hair falling from its pinned-up style as you do, resting on the skin of your shoulders and neck.

Soft.

Your locks look soft and silky to the touch, tempting him to run his fingers through it, across your skin, and, god forbid, under your dress.

A heavy breath settled in his chest at the possibility, a familiar rush coursing through him as you moved your lips to speak, “Yes. I see a stack of playin’ cards, and I just can't help myself. I got rather good at playing too but when you beat everyone in town at it people start to be less kind about your reputation.”

You laugh, attempting to make a light-hearted joke but ultimately grimacing at the mention of lousy sportsmanship from others. You couldn't help winning a challenge in poker, and many saw the talent as disgraceful, which prompted I'll rumor about you.

“That's a shame, sugar. Everyone deserves a chance to play a good game of their choosing.” he feigns concern, meeting your curious eyes as you shift to face him, “Everyone except me if my father has anything to say about it. Still, I suppose it's best I let it go…” you sigh, grabbing the bottle of whiskey to pour another shot.

Suddenly, you freeze, feeling his body heat invade your space. Alastor tilts his head down close to yours, breathing in your scent discretely before pressing his lips to the lobe of your ear as he mutters into it, “Why don't you play a game with me, chere? One lil’ round for fun… right under your daddy's nose, hm?”

The burn of excitement seizes your body, a shakey breath leaving your lips as his voice settles in your mind, inviting you to indulge his offer. That same heat pooled in your core with every second he spent in your space, inhaling the scent of bourbon and sweet sugar cane grass he rode through radiating off him, words just as inviting and addictive.

For a horrifying, well-feared killer, he sure did entice a woman like any natural-born gentleman…

It was a deathly combination you knew he often used, killing or not, and though it'd be wise to avoid his idea, you didn't want to risk missing an opportunity for the thrill.

It'd been so long, too long, and what's the worst that could happen?

Losing to him?

You'd never lost to anyone before, and you were confident that fact wouldn't change -even going up against the Red Reaper himself.

**Cowboy Alastor** relishes when you utter a ‘yes’ to his offer. His grin widens menacingly for a split second as he sets his glass down next to your empty one, conjuring up a meticulously detailed deck of playing cards and placing them on the table.

“You can choose which game we play, sugar…”

Alastor shifts away from you, letting you regain your composure and watching as your delicate fingers reach for the top card of the deck.

“Poker. A favorite of mine..” You didn't think twice before answering him, admiring the red and black ace in your hand, wondering where he acquired such personalized playing cards.

“Poker it is then, chere,” he smirks wickedly, removing his hat entirely to set it on the table before gingerly plucking the card from your hold and sliding to sit opposite you while dishing out equal amounts of cards between you.

Your eyes light up under the oil lamp's golden hue, studying the flick of his hands as he worked, trying hard not to wander up to his piercing gaze. Afraid he'd immediately see your attraction to his nimble hands, well to him in general, and use it against you somehow, so your focus remains on the hand dealt and not him.

As you both plucked your respective set from the table, studying the cards intently, you asked the singular most crucial question every poker match was built on.

“What will the bets be,” Your innocent inquiry earns sultry laughter from him, filling the air, raising feverish chills on your skin as he stares at you through half-lidded eyes.

“I prefer bargains of the soul, my dear. The use and price of one's existence is always more valuable than money, don't you agree?”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx

A/N: Don't be mad AT ME, GUYS, PLEASE. I HAD EXAMS LAST WEEK. I'm SORRY FOR DROPPING OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH… sort of, but I'm back now (please do hate me :((( ). Uh, so I might merge “Down in the Dust” with this because both stories kinda originated in my brain at the same time. However, since this is a request, I wrote a two-part tangent smut as a sort of prequel to the other fic! Also, the phrase “Save a horse. Ride a cowboy” will be unironically used…I'm sorry (I'm not lol) ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ] VOLUME WARNING!!! 🗣️

Fun fact: In the South, we have a rule that if you take a cowboy hat and end up wearing it, they catch you with it (preferably in the mutual interest of getting to know each other). That cowboy gets to fuck you (hopefully, but technically you're initiating a flirting game wearing their hat, lol). It's a cute concept and one any Cowboy Alastor enthusiast should think about. ❤️ credits to the creator.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #human alastor #alastor hartfelt #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #alastor fluff #alastor smut #cowboy alastor #cowboy au #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor fanfiction #hazbin alastor #alastor x oc #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #the radio demon

[justagalwhowrites]

Run Rabbit Part 2

You, Joel and Tommy settle into your situation. A continuation of Run Rabbit Part 1, found on Tumblr here.

PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS. Written as part of the @romana-after-dark Dead Dove December event (but posted late because it's impossible for me to make a deadline at the moment apparently.)

Relationship: Joel Miller x Female Reader X Tommy Miller

Warnings: DUBCON (reader is a captive, participation might be enthusiastic but consent is dubious under the circumstances.) Raider!Joel; Raider!Tommy; Captive reader; Canon-typical violence; graphic depictions of violence; graphic depictions of injury; attempted SA (not by Joel or Tommy); Dom/Sub dynamic but not an established relationship; Dom-ish Joel; Brat tamer-ish Joel; Sub-ish reader; DDDNE; M/F/M threesome; unprotected P in V sex; Anal sex; Oral sex; No use of Y/N; Minors DNI 18+ Only. This part is filthy, OK? There are two dicks. They're put to good use. The end.

Length: 17.9k (If I knew what the fuck my problem is, I'd tell you, I swear.)

AO3 | Fic Masterlist | Full Masterlist | Previous Part

You were oddly relieved when Joel and Vince came back the next afternoon. Tommy heard them coming, one ear cocked toward the door when the front step creaked, and he turned back to you quickly. 

“They ask, you’ve been tied up til a few hours ago,” he said. “All my idea to untie you, OK?” 

“OK,” you said, frowning a little but not arguing with someone else taking the heat. You didn’t want to piss off Joel. He seemed to run this whole operation and you wanted to stay on his good side. At least until you could get the fuck away from here. 

But he wasn’t upset that Tommy had untied you. He seemed to expect it. Even though he did bind your wrists again almost the second he was in the door. 

“Here,” he said once you were tied again, digging in his pack. He pulled out a few bottles of shampoo and conditioner and body wash and hand lotion, setting them on the table in front of you. “Thought you could use that. Might make you more comfortable.” 

You frowned, picking up the shampoo as best you could with your tied hands. You looked at the bottle for a moment, as though it was going to reveal something to you somehow. 

“Why do you care if I’m comfortable?” You asked eventually. 

Joel shrugged. 

“Don’t need you to be uncomfortable. Need you to keep us alive. Don’t have to be miserable while you do it.” 

The books kept you busy for a few days, the men sticking close to home for a while. Joel had come back with a nasty cut on his leg that you needed to treat after a few days of him trying to tough it out. He unbound your hands for that and Tommy brightened a bit when he did only to deflate when Joel tied you up once his leg was stitched up. About a week after they got back, the men hauled in water from the rain barrels outside, layers of ice forming on the top. They warmed some up over the fire and partially filled the bathtub, Tommy untying you as they did. 

“Gotta be quick,” Joel said. “Don’t trust you to not take off on us but we’re movin’ tomorrow, may as well get clean while you can.” 

“Moving where?” You asked as Tommy gently pulled the last of the rope from your wrists. You stretched and rotated your joints before you absently traced the indentations in your skin. 

“Not for you to worry about,” Joel said. “Just you and me to start. Vince and Tommy have some shit to finish up down this way first. You’ll be slower to travel with.” 

“I’d be faster if you untied me and I could keep my balance.”

Joel scoffed. 

“It’d be faster if you got with the program, little girl. You’re mine now, not gonna just let you take the fuck off no matter how hard you try.” 

You glared at him but followed him to the small bathroom when he guided you there. 

“I’ll be right outside this door,” he said. “Don’t think about tryin’ anything.” 

“Yeah, because I’ll just climb out through a pipe,” you muttered, closing the door behind you. They’d put a lantern in the room so you weren’t in the dark, at least. 

You got undressed, folding your clothes and setting them on the toilet that was now totally useless as anything besides a chair or a shelf. The fabric was stiff with dirt and sweat and signs of life after you’d lived in it for weeks and you doubted it would ever be clean again. 

The water was warm when you lowered yourself into it, barely coming up over your hips and the tops of your thighs, but enough to get clean. You scrubbed every inch of yourself and washed your hair twice, the water gradually shifting to a sickly gray. You didn’t mind. You felt clean for the first time in well over a month. The last time you’d had a bath, it had been warm enough to jump in a river without freezing half to death. You tried not to think about how long that had been. 

But, when you got out, you realized that you didn’t have clean clothes in the bathroom with you and you weren’t about to put on the old ones now that you were clean. 

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself. 

“Tryin’ to cause trouble in there?” Joel asked from the other side of the door, making you jump. 

“No,” you rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. “I just didn’t think to grab clean clothes before coming in here and my old ones are disgusting.” 

“Oh,” Joel said, voice oddly gentle. “Um… just… one minute.” 

“Can’t go far,” you muttered, trying to dry yourself as best as you could with the scrap of towel that they’d left you in the bathroom while trying not to freeze. 

To his credit, Joel was quick. 

“Got my eyes closed,” he said. “Open the door.” 

You clenched your jaw a little but obeyed, trying to hide your body behind the the door as best you could. Joel held jeans, a flannel, underwear, a bra and socks out to you in a haphazard pile in one hand, covering his eyes with the other. You snorted. 

“What.” 

“Nothing,” you said, taking the clothes as best you could. “Thank you.” 

“Yup.” 

You went to close the door but jumped and shrieked instead. Perched on the edge of the tub was large mouse - or was it a rat? - trying to work its way down into the water without sliding in. You jumped onto the sink on instinct, half of the clothes tumbling to the floor while you clutched the rest to your chest as Joel came bursting in. 

“What!” He asked, looking around for some kind of threat in the tight space. 

“Rat!” You yelled, pointing at the thing on the stained porcelain. “There, on the tub!” 

“Shit,” he grabbed the bucket next to the tub and moved for it but it saw him coming and took off, darting between his legs and into the main part of the house where it was met with a sickening thud. 

“Got it!” Tommy called and you watched as the tension left Joel’s shoulders. 

Your body relaxed, too, even though you flinched a little at the thought that you’d been living here with that thing for who knows how long. 

“You alright?” Joel asked, looking at you. His eyes trailed down over you before coming back to your face and you remembered, suddenly, that you were naked, just a pile of fabric on your lap and held to your chest to hide the parts you’d want to protect the most. 

“Fine,” you said, clutching the clothes tighter to yourself, your heart beating faster than you wanted when you realized just how close Joel was to you. “Just… surprised me, is all.” 

“Right,” he said, eyes dropping to your chest again before quickly coming back up. “Get dressed. Be quick.” 

He stalked out, slamming the door behind him, your heart still thudding against your ribs. 

You got dressed quickly, too jumpy to properly savor the feeling of clean clothes on your clean body. When you emerged from the bathroom, Joel was nowhere to be found. You frowned a little at that as Tommy came back inside, hauling more water to warm over the fire. 

“He stepped out,” he said. “Don’t gotta tie you up quite yet.” 

“Right,” you said, folding yourself into a corner of the couch. Vince watched you from his place at the small table, finger idly tracing over the blade of the knife he was sharpening. You narrowed your eyes. “Can I help you?” 

“No,” he sat back a little further in his chair. “Just clean up good.” 

He adjusted his pants and you tried to ignore the sickening feeling in your stomach when his eyes stayed on you as he did. 

Tommy finished refilling the tub and glanced out the window where it was starting to get dark before he looked back to you. 

“Why don’t we call it a night early,” he said. “C’mon.” 

You looked at him skeptically for a moment. 

“If you’re not in here for him to tie up…” Tommy trailed off. 

“Bed time it is.” 

You followed him deeper into the cabin, no more hint of fear there when you were alone with Tommy. He’d had every opportunity to hurt you. He hadn’t done it. You weren’t sure if you were just desperate for someone to be attached to or if you’d have always come to trust Tommy. But that didn’t much matter. You had what you had. 

“Gotta promise not to take off on me,” he said, his voice low as he sat cross legged on the bed, grabbing the deck of cards from the bedside table. He started to shuffle. “He really won’t let me get away with goin’ easy on you if we gotta go run you down again.” 

“Why do you listen to him?” You asked, keeping your voice quiet, too. “You’re brothers, right? Just talk to him… or take over.” 

He scoffed. 

“Did take over for a bit,” he said. “Right after the outbreak. Did the best I could, little rabbit, but… didn’t go well. Miracle either of us are alive. But he wasn’t in any shape to figure shit out so that left me…” 

“What happened?” You frowned as Tommy started to deal. “Was he injured? Is that why he wants a nurse around so bad?” 

Tommy was quiet for a moment, staring intently at his cards, a hard look on his face. 

“He… he was hurt in the outbreak,” Tommy said eventually. “Still got some of the scars from it. He wasn’t able to make decisions for a while. Had to carry him for a bit, make sure he stayed breathing. I… I’m not cut out for that. Especially not with Joel. It’s better that he leads, trust me.” 

You looked at your hand, not able to picture Joel as anything but what he was. Cold and calculating and always in control. Picturing him hurt and weak made your chest get tight. You weren’t sure why. 

“Game’s Gin Rummy,” Tommy said, clearing his throat. “Usual stakes.” 

When you could hear Joel talking to Vince in low tones in the living room, Tommy folded his hand and gestured to the bed before lying down. You took your spot next to him, hands folded over your stomach. 

“Can’t I go with you instead?” You asked quietly, head turned to see him. 

He looked over at you before for a moment before turning his eyes back to the ceiling, settling down into the pillow. 

“No,” he whispered. “Joel has his reasons. Just… Behave yourself. He’s not gonna hurt you. I know he seems scary but he wouldn’t hurt a woman if he doesn’t have to. Don’t push him.” 

When Joel came in, you pretended to be asleep. You felt his eyes on you, heard the grinding of his teeth and, eventually, the creak of the floorboards as he settled in to sleep. 

The two of you got started early, your hands bound in front of you almost as soon as you were awake. 

“Not gonna get away with so much without my brother around,” Joel muttered as he wound the rope around you. “Don’t try and push your luck, little girl.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you muttered, your attitude tempered by your meek tone. You were about to be alone in the woods with this man for who knows how long. You didn’t want to push him too far. 

Tommy and Vince were outside when you left, getting ready to go do whatever it was they were going to do. You didn’t want to know. Tommy watched as you disappeared into the woods with his brother and you looked back over your shoulder at him, not ready to let go of the comfort you found in his soft, brown eyes. 

“Shouldn’t get so attached, little girl,” Joel said after you’d been walking long enough that you were sure you were out of earshot. 

“Attached to what?” You frowned, glancing back at him, breath rising in front of you. 

“My brother,” he said. “Watch where you’re walkin’.” 

You obeyed, looking ahead. 

“What makes you think I’m attached?” You asked. 

“Sure seem to spend a lot of time together if you’re not,” he said.

“What, you jealous?” You asked before you could stop yourself. You snapped your jaw shut after the words were out. You had to get your mouth under control. It got you in enough trouble before the world ended let alone when you were on the wrong side of a raider’s rifle. 

Joel snorted. 

“Just know Tommy,” he said. “Never found a broken thing he didn’t want to save and he just doesn’t know when to keep his fucking distance. Night of the outbreak I was bailin’ him out of jail because he beat up a guy who was roughin’ up a waitress. It’s a habit he needs to break if he’s gonna live through this shit. You’re just another symptom of his problem.”

That made your stomach clench. Part of you had thought - or maybe just hoped - that you meant something to Tommy. It bothered you that you didn’t. It bothered you more that it mattered. You shouldn’t care, beyond the fact that his affection for you might help you stay alive. 

But, with Zach gone - Zach, who likely hadn’t cared all that much for you, either, given how he handed you over to these men so easily - you had no one besides Tommy. You’d never had no one before. Being so utterly alone was horrifying in a way that even cordyceps weren’t. You weren’t sure you could handle it. 

“What makes you think I’m something he’d need to save?” You asked instead. 

“Little girl…” 

“Woman.” 

“Little girl,” he said again. “All alone after traveling with some guy who was willing to trade her pain for his life? What about that don’t need savin’, desperate to know what I fuckin’ missed.” 

“What’s wrong with a little attachment?” You asked instead of answering. “What, do you not have friends? No wife or girlfriend?” 

“Attachment gets you fuckin’ killed, that’s what’s wrong with attachment,” he snapped, voice more bitter than you were used to hearing, enough that you looked back at him. His face was hard but his eyes were more raw than you’d ever seen them, the pain sharp and harsh and full. You stopped and faced him, searching those eyes for a moment. It was easier to see the resemblance with Tommy now that he wasn’t so closed off and guarded, the moment of weakness bringing his latent humanity to the surface. 

“What happened to you?” You asked quietly, brows drawn together as you traced the planes of his face with your eyes. You’d never really looked at him before, not like this. There had always been a hardness to him that made you look away, like he was dangerous to even look at too closely. It reminded you, now that you thought about it, of something you’d read once about Chernobyl. How the nuclear material from the reactor was so radioactive it melted film and destroyed robots that tried to investigate, let alone what it did to mortal bodies. So poisonous nothing could survive being close enough to really look.

But, in this moment, he wasn’t that. He was just a man who had seen and felt and been taken apart too much. There were scars on his otherwise smooth skin, the most prominent at his nose and temple and you had the strangest urge to reach out and run your fingers over them, to cradle his face and trace your thumbs over the rise of his cheekbones and tell him to close his eyes for a while, to let it all go for a while. 

You weren’t really thinking when you raised your bound hands to touch his skin but he didn’t let you get that far, snatching your wrists out of the air and ripping you harshly to him, making you yelp and stumble. 

“I am not your fucking business,” he snarled. “And you’ll keep your goddamn hands to yourself unless I tell you otherwise.” 

He shoved you back and you almost tripped over a root but you managed to stay standing, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. 

“Move,” he ordered. “Eyes on the fuckin’ trail.” 

You looked at him for another second, the cold cruelty of him back in his eyes. You sniffed but obeyed, turning and following the trail. 

You didn’t say anything else until you stopped for lunch, in a valley that hadn’t gotten snow yet. He pushed you down onto a log and stood over you, broad and domineering. 

“I go take a piss, you’ll stay put, right?” He asked. “Or do I need to do that right in front of you to keep you from fucking around?” 

“I’ll stay put,” you muttered, not looking at him. 

He went into the trees and you sat on the log, staring into space. For some reason, you felt - for the first time - that this was going to be your life now. That you’d always be with Joel and Tommy and Vince and that you’d be at their mercy forever, a tool in their arsenal of pain as they took whatever they wanted from what they called their territory. You’d be trapped and never have a chance at a semblance of a life again. 

The tears came even though you didn’t want them to, spilling over and feeling hot on your cheeks against the cold air. You heard Joel start to return through the brush and you tried to will yourself to stop fucking crying but you couldn’t manage it, your body mourning the loss of any kind of life you’d hoped to have. 

“The fuck is your problem?” Joel asked as you sniffled and dried your eyes on your sleeve as best you could with your bound hands. 

“What do you think?” You snapped, voice wobbly and wet. “This is my life now, isn’t it? Until the day I die - which will probably happen when you get bored with me or decide I’m more trouble than I’m worth and shoot me for it - I’m just some… some… some thing that you haul places and use when you need and I’ll never have another friend or have anyone care about me ever again and I think you can fucking deal with me being upset about that since you’re the one doing it, OK? Just leave me alone.” 

You pulled your knees to your chest as best you could from your place on the log and tried to bury your face there, anything to keep Joel from seeing your pain. 

A few moments later, you felt the log shift below you and Joel nudged you gently. 

“C’mon,” he said, voice oddly soft. “Need to eat something. Got a ways to go yet today.” 

You sniffed. 

“Not hungry.” 

Joel was quiet for a moment. 

“We can wait a bit,” he said eventually. “Making better time than I expected.” 

You ignored him, still trying to force yourself to stop crying. 

“Not gonna kill you,” he said. 

“What?” You pulled your head from where you’d buried it, sniffling a bit. 

“Not gonna kill you,” he said again. You frowned at him. “Just… you said you thought you were gonna die when I got bored with you or… I’m not gonna kill you. Well, you try to kill me or Tommy I might. Or you get bit. Or take off on us. But… short of that, not planning to kill you.” 

“Great,” you sniffed. “Lemme know when plans change I guess…” 

Joel huffed a small laugh. 

“Not gonna change,” he said. “S’not that I really like killing people. Got better hobbies than that. And I try to avoid killing people who don’t deserve it and people I don’t have to kill. You don’t deserve it so I’m not going to kill you unless I have to, it’s simple as that.”

You looked at him for a moment, your tears slowing. 

“Why do you do it then?” You asked. “The stealing and the hurting and the killing? If you don’t like it…” 

Joel looked at you, his eyes searching yours again, a hint of the openness that was in them before. 

“I’m not losing my little brother,” he said eventually. “So I’m going to do whatever I need to do to make sure he stays alive. Right now, that means hurtin’ and killin’ more than I really want. S’OK. I’ll pay that price, long as he stays alive.” 

You watched him, eyes trailing over those scars again. 

“You really think that’s the best way?” You asked softly. “All that killing? All that hurt? It’s got to hurt you, too, do you really think…” 

“Better than the alternative,” he cut you off. “Shit like handing ourselves over to FEDRA for them to lock up in a fuckin’ QZ or being sitting ducks for other people willin’ to hurt and kill first. Better this way, little girl. Trust me on that. Keeps him alive, that’s the important thing. That’s why you’re here. Something happens, it’s not a death sentence.  All that matters.” 

You nodded slowly and sniffed a little. Joel reached forward, his hands still seeming so big, and gently brushed his thumbs below your eyes, drying your tears. 

“You’re alright,” he said softly, holding your cheek in his palm. “S’not so bad. You’re mine now. Take care of what’s mine.” 

You just looked at him, his eyes on yours for a moment, before he cleared his throat and pulled out the bag of jerky, holding it out to you. You tried to reach your bound hands inside but the opening was too small and you made a frustrated noise when he laughed a little. 

“Hold on, I got it.” 

He pulled a piece out and held it out to you. But when you went to take it, he pulled it away and you frowned as he put it just inches away from your lips. 

“Open.” 

You kept your eyes locked on his as you obeyed and he put the salty meat on your tongue slowly, pressing it down into the muscle. You waited until he took his hand back to close your mouth and you chewed, holding his gaze as you did. He got out another piece of jerky, holding it in his thick fingers until you swallowed. He held it up like he did before and you let your mouth fall open so he could feed it to you, his movements disorientingly delicate for a man so large. 

He fed you that way until you had your fill of the jerky and he pulled out an apple and a knife, pressing the blade into the crisp flesh of it and cutting a slender wedge. He brought the first piece to your lips, the fruit balancing on his thumb and the harsh metal. 

“Open,” he said, something low and gravely in his voice. You obeyed and he put the apple on your tongue, the juice of it brushing your lips and making you lick them as he pulled the knife away. He cut a slice off of his own and you watched as his mouth slipped dangerously close to the sharpened edge. He kept his eyes on you as he brought the knife back to the apple and cut into it again and you opened your mouth for him to put the slice inside, the blade that had just been against his lips brushing your own. 

When it was gone, you just looked at him for a moment, watching as his thumb ran over the blade, wiping away all signs of the fruit on the knife before putting it away. 

“Come on,” he said, getting up and grabbing a handful of fabric at the nape of your neck as though you were a disobedient kitten, hefting you to your feet. “Want to clear at least 10 more miles before we stop for the night.” 

“Where are we going?” You asked as he picked up the overstuffed pack that was carrying all your supplies and his. “Why couldn’t we just stay where we were?” 

“Not a great place to ride out winter,” he said. “Other spot’s closer to things we’ll need but far enough away that we shouldn’t run into much trouble. Stayed there last winter, too. Worked well enough.” 

“And you’re, what, just hoping no one’s taken it since you left?” You asked as he nudged you forward. You looked back over your shoulder at him as he shrugged. 

“Just take it back if they did,” he said. “Shouldn’t get there ’til tomorrow night, anyway. Expect Tommy and Vince round midday the day after. Watch where you’re goin’, can’t have you breaking your fuckin’ leg out here…” 

“Tomorrow?” You frowned before looking straight ahead. “Where are we stopping tonight?” 

“Somewhere that looks good,” he said. “We’ll be sleeping rough.” 

“Do we have the gear for that?” You asked looking back at him to see him glare at you before you looked forward again. “It’s cold…” 

“Thought you were some outdoorsy thing, little girl,” he said. “Can’t handle a little cold?” 

You hated being cold. You didn’t say that. 

“More worried about you,” you replied. “You drop dead on me out here, makes my life a whole lot harder. Have to try to cut myself out of these damn ropes…” 

“Not dropping dead on you,” he said. “Keep goin’, don’t waste your energy talking to me…” 

You rolled your eyes a little but pressed on, putting one foot in front of the other and trying to ignore the imposing man at your back. 

Joel called for a stop hours later at a small indentation in a cliffside that was protected from wind. He set out the bed rolls and fed you again, just like he had at lunch, each piece of food going from his hands to your lips. 

“Can’t we have a fire?” You asked, trying not to shiver as the sun set. Joel looked at you, incredulous. “What?” 

“Why do you think we can’t have a fucking fire?” He asked, brows raised. 

You sighed. 

“I guess it might attract people…” 

“It would attract people,” he corrected you. “With Tommy and Vince around I wouldn’t give a shit but you? You’re a liability. Don’t much want to deal with trying to keep us both alive on my own. No fire.” 

You tucked your hands between your thighs and shivered a little. Joel raised his brows at you. 

“What?” You snapped. “I’m cold. It’s cold. Sue me.” 

“Don’t think suin’ you would do much good nowadays.” 

“Shut up.” 

He snorted and laughed a little. 

“Hold on,” he said, getting up and dragging his sleeping bag over next to yours before settling on top of it, sitting close to you. He held his arm out and you frowned. “Come on. Best way to get warm is to get close. Won’t bite and you’ll live, promise.�� 

You glared at him but tucked yourself against his side all the same. He was right, it was warmer there. Joel seemed to just emanate heat, even through his thick suede coat. He even smelled warm, like cedar and sharp spice and crisp apple. You wedged your hands between your thigh and his and Joel frowned. 

“The hell are you that cold?” He muttered. “Feel like ice even through my damn jeans…” 

He pulled off the glove on the hand that wasn’t on your arm with his teeth and enveloped your hands in his much larger one. He pulled them to his mouth and breathed into your tight fingers, the heat of his breath seeping into your skin. 

“Don’t think we got more gloves but we can put some socks on your hands or somethin’ tomorrow,” he said. “No good to me if you lose your fuckin’ fingers.” 

“I could put them in my pockets if you just untied me,” you said, an almost teasing edge to your voice. 

“No good to me if you take off, either,” he said. You could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Can’t trust you yet. 

“You think I can trust you?” You asked, looking up at him as best you could from your position tucked against his side. 

“No,” he said. “But I don’t need you to. You don’t get a choice here, little girl, I do. Don’t matter if you trust me.”

“It’d be easier if I did,” you said quietly. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “Imagine so.” 

You drifted off there, tucked against his side, and when you woke up, you were curled into his warm body, his arm securely around your middle, sleeping bag around you both. His breath was warm against your skin, his nose buried in your hair, his broad chest firm at your back. You weren’t sure what to do and were trying to figure out when he stirred, groaning a little as he adjusted his arm before sitting up. 

“Gotta get you better cold weather gear,” he muttered. “Don’t know how the fuck you survived last winter…” 

“Stayed to the south,” you replied. “Which you should do, too, by the way…” 

“Lot more competition to the south,” he said. “Don’t feel like havin’ a big crew. Works better to stay up this way with just us.” 

“Probably fine when you’re a furnace,” you muttered. 

“Get moving,” he nudged you. “You’ll be warmer when you’re walking.” 

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, getting out of the way enough that Joel could get up and pull you to your feet. He put socks over your bound hands and you tried not to laugh. 

He sighed. 

“What now?” 

“Most fucked up sock puppets…” You wriggled your hand into the right position as best you could to give it a mouth and he rolled his eyes. 

“Should never have told you I’m not planning on killin’ you unless you make me,” he muttered. “Just be insufferable now.” 

You smirked a little as you walked and you felt like you made decent time that morning. Joel fed you again when you stopped for lunch, tracing his thumb over the plush swell of your lower lip to wipe away a drop of juice from the apple, but you didn’t talk like you had the day before. Beyond the intimacy of him feeding you, his eyes lingering on your lips and throat, he was distant, teeth grinding and looking off into the trees when he wasn’t watching you. 

It was mid-afternoon when you heard it, the haggard pants and inhuman gargle of infected. 

“Joel,” you whispered, whipping back to look at him. He grabbed your shoulder and all but threw you behind him, his rifle raised. You pressed tight against his back. “Joel, I don’t have a gun, I can’t…” 

“Hush,” he said, hardly glancing back at you. “Told you, you’re mine and I protect what’s mine. You’ll be OK.” 

You winced and tried not to cry, pressing your forehead into Joel’s back. He was warm. Solid. Safe. You had to trust that he was going to take care of you, you didn’t have another choice. 

There was a snarl at your left and Joel turned so fast it made your head spin, his left leg coming back and catching against yours, forcing you to move with him so you were still protected by his large, broad body as he faced the infected head on. 

The crack of the gun made you flinch and you tried to focus on the feel of Joel as you moved with him as he backed up, staying where his legs guided you, keeping you tucked safely against him as he fired round after round, the snarling getting louder and closer until, suddenly, you felt the harsh grasp of a hand on your elbow. It ripped you back into a body that was more like your own - about the same height, none of the almost inhuman broadness of the man in front of you - and the thing snarled. 

“Joel!” You shrieked, trying your best to rip yourself away from it as it pulled your arms toward its mouth so hard it almost dislocated your shoulder. “Joel, please!” 

The infected sank its teeth into your arm but didn’t penetrate the thick coat as you tried to rip yourself free. For a moment, you thought you had, the pressure from its jaw letting up. But it just roared, gripping you tighter and pulling you closer, searching for skin it could reach. 

For a moment, as you watched what used to be a human woman stretch her open mouth toward your throat, you were almost surprised that this was how it was going to end for you. 

It shouldn’t be a surprise. It was the apocalypse, after all. It should make sense that the thing that made the world end took you out, too. But it had felt all but impossible for so long. Like you’d survived so much, worked so hard, pushed for so long that it wasn’t coming for you anymore. Like, eventually, things were going to slot into place and you were going to have a semblance of a life the the reality you now called home. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. You weren’t supposed to end like this. 

The butt of Joel’s rifle snapped you out of your own head, the stock coming down hard on the woman’s head and she shrieked, shoving you aside so that you fell flat on your back, and shifting her attention to Joel. He thrust her back and quickly snapped his gun around, shooting her in the head. She dropped where she stood and Joel lowered the gun ever so slightly, breathing heavy, surveying the woods around you both for any impending threats. After a moment, he slung the rifle on his back and all but ran to you, dropping to one knee at your side, his brown eyes wide as they ranged over you again and again. 

“Hey,” he said once he’d looked you over, his gaze locking on yours. “You’re OK. Take a deep breath for me, you’re OK, I’ve got you, you’re OK…” 

You realized then that your breaths were coming in short, harsh gasps, that your whole body was shaking. Joel pulled off a glove and took your face almost harshly in his hand. 

“Look at me,” he said, giving you a rough shake as he did. “Just me. Infected are gone, there were just six of them and I got ‘em all. You’re OK, not bit. Neither am I. It’s OK. Just you and me. I’ve got you, just focus on me.” 

You nodded in his grip, tears stinging your eyes, but you couldn’t seem to calm your breathing down. You just weren’t getting enough air and your body couldn’t calm down enough to slow your breaths. Your head spun and your bound hands found Joel’s bicep, fingertips digging into the muscle and the thickness of his coat. Something made a nearby bush rustle and your eyes darted, wide and frantic, not able to turn your head in Joel’s grip. 

“Hey!” His voice was sharper, your eyes shooting to him again, afraid you’d pissed him off now. But he didn’t look mad, he looked worried. His eyes were still wide and they were warm and you had the passing thought that, maybe, dying wouldn’t be as bad if you got to look in those eyes when you went. “There you go, keep lookin’ at me, I’ve got you.” The hand that wasn’t clutched onto your head, fingertips clutching into your hair and skull, went to your chest. His palm pressed over your breasts, near your sternum, fingers splaying wide over your skin. “Gonna get you to breathe deep, just stick with me, OK? Out first…” He pressed down with firm, even pressure and you emptied your lungs. Just as your panic was going to kick into high gear, his hand relaxed. “And in, pull that air down low, OK? Focus on it, focus on me, follow my hand with your chest, you’re OK.” 

You did your best to obey, pulling air into you and trying desperately to fill the empty spaces inside yourself, your chest chasing the heat of his callused palm. 

“Out now,” he said, his voice so calm, adding pressure to his hand again and pushing the air from your lungs until they were empty. “Good, doing good, in this time.” 

You nodded and breathed deep, chasing his palm, and started feeling calmer then. Your heart wasn’t beating quite so fast, the feeling that you were suffocating inside your skin fading. 

“Feeling better?” He asked, his grip on you loosening. You just nodded. “Gonna help you sit up now…” He pulled you up, one of his large hands in the middle of your back, the other on your bound hands. “Take another deep breath for me.” 

You obeyed and he carefully guided you so that your back was against a tree. 

“Catch your breath,” he said. “We’ll take a few minutes, then move on. This time of year, shouldn’t be a much infected around here. Don’t think we’ve got more comin’.” 

You nodded and breathed slow and deep, closing your eyes, concentrating on the prickle of the cold air in your lungs and then the warm fog of it rising in front of you. 

“Think you’re ready to move?” Joel asked after a few minutes. You opened your eyes. He was still there, right next to you, watching you closely with those soft brown eyes. 

“Yeah,” you said, voice shaky. “I’m… I’ve never been that close to one before, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have panicked…” 

“S’OK,” Joel said. “They’re… well, they’re fuckin’ scary. It’s alright.” 

You watched him for a moment and frowned a little. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You asked quietly. 

His brows knitted together, frowning back. 

“Only as mean as you make me be, little girl. Never wanted to hurt you. Just wanted to keep you and I’ll be as mean as I need to keep you.” 

He stood up and took your elbow, pulling you to your feet. 

“Should get moving,” he said. “Got a miles to go yet and we don’t know what we’re walking into when we get there. Let’s go.” 

You stayed close to Joel the rest of the hike, never going more than a minute or two without looking back over your shoulder to make sure he was still close even though you could hear him at your back. 

It was nightfall when you reached the cabin that Joel had mentioned. The setting was idyllic, you could see why he’d want to set up long term. There were no obvious paths leading to the cabin that you could see, Joel routing you off an apparent dead end to the trail around through the brush and over a stream to get to it. The land around it was dense with trees to the point that it was hard to even see the cabin until you were at the right angle. The woodpile on the front porch was low and the windows were dark. Joel tucked you into a bush at the edge of the clearing made for what had once been a drive for the cabin. 

“Stay put,” he said. “Don’t make me run you down.” 

He didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he crept closer to the cabin, moving slowly and quietly up to the front door with his gun at the ready. He checked something at the hinge of the door and relaxed a little when he did, slinging his rifle onto his back and coming back for you in the brush. 

“No one’s been here since we left in April,” he said, helping you through the rougher parts of the ground. “Should be safe. Left some firewood last time, enough to last us a few days at least…” 

“We can have a fire?” Your face lit up. 

Joel smiled a little. 

“We can have a fire,” he said. “Can’t let you fuckin’ freeze to death, you’re useless if you’re dead.” 

“Or frostbitten,” you said. “Also useless if I’m frostbitten.” You could almost hear him roll his eyes. 

Joel built a fire and you sat in front of it, warming your hands at the flames and luxuriating in the heat as he went about setting up other parts of the cabin. You just checked to make sure you knew where he was every minute or two, being far from him making your stomach churn and your thoughts race. If Joel was far away, anything could happen and you’d be helpless to stop it. Without Joel, you’d be one of those things by now. Without Joel, you weren’t safe. 

It was a ludicrous thought, some part of you knew that. He was the reason you were out here to begin with. He was the reason you were so spectacularly useless in a fight right now (not that you’d ever been particularly good at brawling.) 

But he had protected you like no one else had. He’d protected you from Vince’s threats when you’d run away and he had every reason to just let the other man kill you. He’d put himself between you and half a dozen infected when he could have just let them have you while he picked them off. He took care of you, he looked out for you. You wouldn’t need nearly as much of either if he’d just left you with Zach but Zach had been fine trading you away to protect himself. Who knows how long you’d have lasted with him. And, while your survival skills were fine before the apocalypse, they were the kind that let you survive in the wilderness for a few weeks. They weren’t the kind that taught you how to fight monsters both human and inhuman. Joel might have literally tied you down but him and Tommy were the safest you could imagine being right now. 

The thought made you dig your nails into your palms and you tried not to focus on it as you stared at the flames as they chewed at the wood in the fireplace. But you weren’t able to ignore it for long, not when you realized you hadn’t heard or seen Joel in several minutes. 

“Joel?” You asked the darkness of the cabin. There was no response. 

You got up and crept toward the back of the structure, toward the rooms you hadn’t been in yet. But you couldn’t bring yourself to open any of the doors. 

“Joel?” You whispered. You gave him a second to reply and then headed for the front door. 

Night had fully fallen and you could only see what was illuminated by the glow of the fire through the window, the tree cover too dense to let in much light from the moon. Did you dare leave the porch? You weren’t trying to run away but Joel didn’t know that. One of the exceptions to the “not going to kill you” thing was you running. But what if he got hurt? What if infected showed up at the cabin? 

What if you were alone? 

“Joel?” 

“Thought you were cold?” His voice appeared from the side of the porch, making you jump. He walked around to the steps, water bottles in hand. 

“You were gone a while,” you said, indignant. 

Joel scoffed. 

“I was gone all of five minutes.” 

“It was longer than that.” 

“Well, I had to clear out the water pump, hadn’t been used in a bit,” he said. “Got it goin’ good, well’s still set…” He trailed off and considered you for a second, brows raised. “Were you worried, little girl?” 

It was your turn to scoff.

“No,” you rolled your eyes and looked toward the glow of the fire inside. “I just…” 

“You were worried,” he smirked. “Don’t worry, not gonna let the monsters get ya. Head inside.” 

“Only monster I’m worried about here is you,” you snapped. You regretted it almost as soon as you said it. Joel’s cocky smile sank enough that the dimple on his cheek disappeared and some of the softness left his eyes. 

“Get inside,” he said. “Before I give you somethin’ to worry about.” 

You sat by the fire, trying to check on what Joel was doing without showing that you were watching him. Eventually, he came and grabbed your elbow, pulling you sharply to your feet with a small yelp. 

“We’ll figure out sleeping arrangements once Tommy and Vince get here,” he said. “For now, we’re bunking together. Don’t trust you to behave otherwise.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to argue as he dragged you along behind him to one of the back rooms you’d been too afraid to open before. There was a king bed inside, made up with plush looking blankets and sheets. Joel helped you get your boots off but otherwise, you climbed in bed fully clothed on the side away from the door. He lay down, his back to you. You were pretty sure his arms were crossed and his back look tense. 

“Joel?” You said softly. 

“Hm.” 

“When they get here,” you said, still whispering even though there was no one else to hear you. “Please don’t make me sleep with Vince. Please. I’ll do whatever you want but…” 

“Not gonna make you share with him,” he cut you off, looking back over his shoulder toward you for a moment before looking straight ahead again. “It’ll be me or Tommy, not him.” 

“OK.” 

You were quiet for a few minutes but you were pretty sure Joel was still awake when you spoke again. 

“Joel?” 

He sighed. 

“Hm.” 

“Can I sleep closer?” You asked softly. He half rolled to try to look at you in the dark. “I just… I’m cold. You’re warm.” 

He sighed again but rolled onto his back and held his arm out. 

“C’mere.” 

You scooted closer until your head was against his chest and he put his arm loosely around you. You took a deep breath and sighed contentedly, not able to help it. 

“Surprised you’d want to be this close to a monster,” he said. He meant it to be wry, you could tell that, but there was a twinge on the last word that gave him away. 

“Well,” you said, adjusting your tied wrists as best you could. “Maybe… Monsters aren’t all bad. And some are warm. So.” 

He sighed. 

“Go to sleep.” 

Just as you were about to drift off, you felt his arm tighten around your shoulders, pulling you in closer. 

Tommy and Vince made it the next day with more supplies than they’d left the last place with. But, while Tommy had made it in one piece, Vince wasn’t so lucky. His arm had been dislocated and he’d taken a knife to the arm. Joel untied you and you needed Joel and Tommy’s help to position Vince to pop his arm back into place. You made him a sling and treated the wound on his arm, doing your best to keep it from getting infected before stitching it closed. 

You weren’t sure how bad the injury really was without the proper diagnostic tools but it seemed like Vince was making it out to be more than it was. You kept checking for signs of infection because he seemed to be constant pain, enough that Tommy and Joel were doing the bulk of the work to set up the cabin to ride out the winter. You helped where you could but Joel insisted on binding your hands again once Vince was patched up and you’d gotten cleaned up from the trip, so your skills were limited. 

The four of you had been at the cabin for more than a week when you noticed a shift. You still weren’t party to the discussions the men had, the three of them sending you behind closed doors while they conducted business, but you were certain that Joel and Tommy were getting ready to leave again. 

When you went to bed with Tommy that night, he confirmed your suspicions and your stomach dropped. 

“Can I come?” You asked. He looked at you for a moment, brows raised. “I won’t be much good at patching you up from afar…” 

“Hard to travel with you when we gotta keep you tied up,” he said, going back to gathering extra socks. 

“I’ll be good,” you said quickly. “I’ll do whatever you want, just bring me…” 

“Why do you want to come along so bad, Rabbit?” He asked. “Didn’t think you’d much want to be there when we raid groups…” 

“I don’t care,” you said quickly, even though the thought of watching them kill someone the way they’d killed Zach made your stomach turn. “I’ll behave, just don’t leave me here with…” 

Tommy’s head whipped around, his eyes narrowed. 

“Vince do somethin’ to you?” He asked. “He say something?” 

“No,” you shook your head, clenching your jaw. “Well, nothing big but I just… I have a bad feeling about him. I don’t trust him.” 

“And you trust me and Joel?” He asked, skeptical. 

“Not really,” you replied. “But… more than him.” 

“He knows not to touch you,” Tommy said. “We’ll only be gone a few days, week at most. We know a place only about a day from here where we can reliably find what we need. Shouldn’t take too long…” 

Your eyes went wide. A week. A week with just Vince. That was so much longer than you’d realized it would be. How were you supposed to avoid him for a week? 

“Can’t you stay and Joel goes with Vince?” You pleaded. “Or you and Vince go and leave Joel here? Just…” 

“Can’t,” Tommy said. “He’s still hurt and we’re low on supplies, we need to go now and we can’t risk bringin’ him. You really that afraid of him?” 

You tightened your jaw for a moment before nodding once. 

Tommy sighed. 

“Well, he’s hurt. Don’t think he’s gonna do much to you when he can’t use one arm. You’ll be OK. Next run we’ll figure out somethin’ else, OK?” 

You dug your nails into your palms. 

“Yeah,” you said. “OK.” 

Joel and Tommy left the next morning. You stood on the porch and watched their path long after they’d made it out of sight before sighing and going back inside. 

“Just you and me now,” he smirked from his position on the couch. “You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?” 

 You didn’t answer. You just looked at him for a moment before heading back to the room you stayed in every night with Joel or Tommy and curled up in the middle of the big bed, the binds on your wrists feeling worse than they had in weeks. 

For the first two days, it was fine. Mostly. You generally avoided Vince, the man humming Run Rabbit anytime you were within earshot, making your whole body tense. Instead, you were just hanging out in the bedroom and sleeping or reading or just staring at the grain of the wood walls wondering if this was just what your life would be now. What if something happened and Joel and Tommy didn’t come back? What if Vince just left you here, tied up, forever? 

What if you were alone? 

The third day, you started getting suspicious of Vince’s claimed injury. Given what you knew, he should be doing much better at this point but he’d kept claiming he was in too much pain to even use his arm. It wasn’t impossible, of course, and it was hard to see what kind of intervention he would need in a cabin without the proper tools, so you were hoping that more time did the trick. But when you emerged from the bedroom that afternoon to use the bathroom, you found him in the kitchen, both arms stretched to reach something on a top shelf. You frowned and stood there, waiting for him to notice you. When he turned around, he jumped before smirking, putting his arm back in its sling. 

“Aren’t you a sneaky thing?” He asked, prowling over and standing just inches away from you. “See something you like?” 

“Arm looks like it’s doing better,” you replied, nodding to it. “Want me to look it over?” 

“Still hurts like a bitch,” he replied. “Just needed two hands so I lived with it for a minute. That OK with you, Florence Nightingale?” 

You shrugged. 

“Doesn’t matter to me if you fuck up your arm,” you replied. “Be my guest.” 

You ducked around him to go to the outhouse but his hand closed around your arm, yanking you back into him with a small yelp. 

“Think you’d be more invested,” he said, his face close to yours. “Only useful as because you can patch people up. Think the Millers will be so keen to keep you around if you can’t even do that right?” 

“Right,” you said. “Maybe I should be worse at it so they let me go.” 

“You really think they’d let you go?” He laughed. “You stupid girl. They’d kill you. Not gonna just let you wander around knowing where they like to hide out and what they have. You stop being useful, you’re dead. Just hope they let me have some fun with you first.” 

You wanted to throw Joel’s words back in his face, that he said he wasn’t going to kill you, not unless you made him. But you weren’t sure how much you could trust any of it. It felt like you could believe what Joel told you but he was keeping you tied up in a cabin in the woods. How much could you trust anything he said? 

Instead, you just pulled your arm away.

“I have to pee.” 

He laughed once. 

“Don’t go far,” he said. “Hate to have to run you down out there…” 

He started humming Run Rabbit again. 

The next afternoon, you knew he was lying about the arm. 

You emerged from the bedroom to find something to eat and found him sitting at the small table, bag of jerky and a bottle of whiskey in front of him, sling hanging off the back of the chair. 

“Good to see my medicinal skills are up to snuff,” you said derisively, going for the cabinet you knew held the jerky. “Guess I’ll live to bother you another day.” 

“Know what?” He snapped, shoving back from the table and stomping over to you, closing the gap between you in just two steps. “Think I’m getting tired of your smart fucking mouth…” 

You realized suddenly just how big Vince was. He was shorter than Joel so you didn’t notice it most of the time but, when he had you pressed back against the counter as you shrank back from him, you were suddenly very aware that he was large, more broad than he was expressly tall. Definitely big enough to do serious damage if he set his mind to it. His hand whipped forward and latched onto your jaw, his fingertips digging into your cheek, grip so tight you were worried he was going to dislocate it. 

“Sorry,” you said quickly. “I’m sorry, I’ll…” 

“Think I’m about done dealing with your shit,” he growled, the smell of liquor harsh on his breath. “Think it’s about time I got my due.” 

He pulled you around, hand still on your jaw, and shoved you back, making you stumble over a chair. You scrambled back from him, looking quickly back over your shoulder, trying desperately to keep from falling. 

“You don’t want to do this,” you said, looking back to him. “You really don’t want to piss off Joel and Tommy like that, please…” 

He laughed once, darkly. 

“You think they want you to themselves that bad?” He asked, prowling closer. “Nah, I don’t think they’ll much care. Besides, maybe I’ll just have my fun with you then kill you. Tell ‘em you took off. You already tried it once…” 

“No,” you shook your head, trying to ignore how your throat clenched tight as he drew near. “No, you don’t…” 

“Think I do,” he said as you backed into the couch. He was only about a foot away from you. Your eyes darted toward the door and you made the call, ducking below his groping arm and running for it. 

He grabbed at you but you dodged it, all but ripping the door off its hinges as you ran out into the cold afternoon air. Dusk was on the horizon and you were going to be stuck running from him in the dark with your hands tied but it was better than the alternative. 

You heard the gunshot a split second before you felt it, the force of the bullet sending you sprawling forward as you screamed in pain. There was a second of shock, of disbelief, as you lay face down in the dirt. You felt the warm wetness of your blood before you felt the sharp pain of a hole being blown through your body. You rolled onto your uninjured side and tried to assess it as best you could, not really able to reach the wound because of how your hands were tied. It was on the right side of your body, so far to the side that you thought it might have missed most major organs and just caught skin and muscle and fat. But you couldn’t be sure. 

You tried to shove yourself up, side screaming in pain, the wound pulling, the muscle ragged, but Vince was on you too fast. He shoved you onto your back and kicked your legs apart before kneeling between them.

“No!” You shrieked, trying to scramble back from him but he grabbed you harshly at your waist, his fingers digging into your open wound and making you scream in pain. 

“You’re mine now,” he panted over you. “This’ll be a lot easier on you if you just cooperate…” 

You tried to shove him back but couldn’t get leverage, not with your hands bound. A strangled sob slipped from you as you tried to wrest yourself away but it didn’t work, Vince just slamming you down into the dirt before punching you across the face. The blow made your brain rattle in your skull and you lay there, blinking in shock for a moment as he started to fumble with your pants. 

“Help!” You screamed, voice thick and wet. “Joel, Tommy!” 

“Shut up,” he seethed over you, trying to force your pants down over your hips. You ignored him, still screaming, legs kicking uselessly. He punched you again and you went still and quiet, head swimming. “Shut up you stupid fuckin’ girl. Take what I give you and you’ll fuckin’ like it.” 

“Joel!” You shrieked. “Tommy!” 

It was desperate, you knew that. They said they’d be gone close to a week, it had just been days. This was it.

Vince’s hand latched around your throat, shoving you down into the earth. You tried to breathe around his fingers but you couldn’t manage it, his grip too tight. You clawed at his arms with your tied hands and tried to gulp in air, your vision starting to fade. 

“Told you you should’ve cooperated,” he panted over you. “Should’ve fuckin’ listened…” 

You could hardly see his face over you anymore, the world seeming far away, when the weight of him disappeared and you could breathe.

***

Tommy wasn’t thrilled about leaving you behind. 

He hadn’t been thrilled about it before you talked to him. He’d been trusting Vince less and less over the last few weeks. He’d never been Tommy’s favorite person but he had decent enough skills, generally listened when Joel told him what to do and it was helpful to always outnumber pairs when hunting. 

But ever since they’d taken you, Tommy was questioning whether keeping him around was smart. 

Of course, he’d been conflicted about taking you from the beginning. He hadn’t gotten into this to take fucking captives, he’d gotten into this because it seemed like the only way to stay alive was to take. There wasn’t enough to go around so some people were going to have to go without. That’s just the way it worked. He just wanted to make sure the people going without weren’t him and Joel. 

Survival of the fittest, after all. 

But he understood why Joel had taken you. You had valuable skills, valuable enough that you were worth feeding and monitoring. It was worth it to go outside the norm for you. Even though he hated keeping you tied up. But he figured he’d wear Joel down on that eventually. 

He didn’t like leaving you behind like this before you’d talked to him about Vince and all but begged him to bring you along. You had to really distrust Vince to want to come on a hunt like this. It made him uneasy. 

So he was relieved when he and Joel had stumbled upon a small group of men traveling just two days after they’d left the cabin. It was a good haul, enough to set them up for a few months and get them through a stretch of winter. They’d need to head out again at some point - or just hunt and trap animals near the cabin if it looked like the ammo, fuel and battery supply would hold out - but they had some security for a while. 

“I really think she’s gonna like some of what we got,” Tommy said as they were getting close to the cabin again. “Think the books are up her alley and they had medical supplies. Legit ones. That’ll make her happy.” 

“Can’t get too attached,” Joel said, not for the first time. Tommy rolled his eyes. Joel glanced over at him. “I’m serious. It’s a risk. You’re gettin’ too involved with her and can’t afford you making stupid fuckin’ choices because you’re worried about her. She’s with us to make sure you keep breathing, not to be your fuckin’ friend.” 

“Here to keep you breathing, too, right?” Tommy asked. 

Joel was quiet for a moment. 

“Right?” He said again.

“Sure,” Joel said. “Right.” 

Tommy clenched his jaw but stared straight ahead. 

He wasn’t sure if his brother was cautioning him because he was worried about Tommy or because he was worried about himself. 

Tommy wasn’t a fucking idiot. He saw what was happening with Joel. He’d been there when Sarah died, saw the pain in his brother’s face as he held his daughter’s broken body. He’d clung to her until she went cold, on the ground where she’d died at first and then for hours as they tried to find a way out of Austin and away from the carnage of the outbreak. He carried her body until he couldn’t anymore, dropping to his knees on the east side of town with smoke in the distance. 

Tommy had tried to find a way to bury her, even just a shallow grave, but infected put a stop to that. Tommy had to drag Joel away, screaming and fighting him the whole way. 

He put a gun to his head that afternoon. It was a miracle he survived but, sometimes, Tommy wasn’t sure he really had. The Joel he knew, the Joel who he’d grown up with, the Joel who’d damn near raised him during his teenage years as their mother’s health declined, the Joel who lived for his daughter had died with her. In his place was the man he was now. Harsher, colder, and more like Tommy when he got mad than Tommy was really proud of. 

But things had shifted with you. He’d bought Joel’s reasoning at first and, in hindsight, he thought it was because Joel believed it himself then. That you were too valuable to just let go, that you wouldn’t survive long on your own so keeping you was a kindness. 

Now, though, Joel was attached. Tommy could see it, even if Joel couldn’t. He’d first noticed on a morning where Joel had been the one in bed with you. Tommy pulled a shirt on, you curled in on yourself in that way you did, and he caught Joel tucking the blankets in around your sleeping form. Tommy raised his brows at him and he just frowned. 

“S’cold,” he said softly before ducking around Tommy and leaving the room. 

It was the first sign he’d seen of Joel caring about anything outside of Tommy since Sarah died. 

After that, it was obvious. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it before but, the second he knew to look for it, he saw signs of Joel caring everywhere. He stopped Vince from finishing the jerky he knew you liked best and set it aside for you. He made fires on nights Tommy knew he wouldn’t bother otherwise because you got cold. He saw you struggling to tie your boots with your bound hands and brushed your hands aside, kneeling at your feet to tie them for you. You complained the whole time, said that you were perfectly capable of tying your shoes if he’d just untie you. Joel just rolled his eyes, tucking your laces behind the tongue of the boot before getting to his feet again. 

“You know,” Tommy said. “May not be the worst thing. Getting attached.” 

Joel just huffed. 

“Just mean, life’s better when you’ve got something to care about, right?” Tommy pressed on. “What’s the point of fightin’ this hard if you don’t?” 

“Care about you,” Joel shrugged. “Seems like plenty to me. Just… Keep going for family.” 

Tommy was quiet for a moment. 

“She could be family,” he said, glancing Joel’s way. 

Before Joel had a chance to object, the sound of your scream cut through the cold air. Tommy looked at Joel for barely a second before the men were running, shoving brush aside and leaping over obstacles as they went. 

“Joel! Tommy!” 

Tommy wasn’t sure where he found the energy after days on the road but he pushed himself faster at the sound of your voice. You were so afraid it sent a chill up his spine. It had to be infected, he couldn’t think of what else would inspire that kind of terror. 

He broke through the tree line before Joel and it took him a moment to realize where you were, Vince on top of you on the ground. Tommy didn’t stop to think. He was hurting you, he was a threat, he needed to pay. Tommy tackled Vince, catching him completely off guard and rolling away from you. They landed with Vince on top but he was disoriented and Tommy quickly threw him to the ground before jumping on him, forcing his knee into the other man’s chest before punching him, hard, across the face again and again. 

Vince scrambled, throwing his arms up, trying to protect his head from Tommy’s blows but it didn’t matter. He grabbed one arm and broke it, feeling the bones snap under his fingers. 

“Tommy!” Vince sobbed. “Fuck, please! I can explain!” 

“No,” Tommy shook his head, his fist raised. “Warned you, motherfucker. Shouldn’t have touched her.” 

He ripped Vince’s unbroken arm away and started punching him again and again, the sick sense of satisfaction that took hold when he solved problems this way settling over him. There was something about using his body, taking control with force, that brought him a sense of peace. He knew what was coming next. He knew it could be the right thing, that he could protect who needed protecting, because he’d set the rules. 

After what felt like no time at all, Vince was still below his fist, his face a mass of blood and displaced cartilage. He wasn’t breathing. Tommy panted, staring down at him for a moment. It seemed like he should feel bad for this, somehow. He’d lived alongside this man, survived the end of the world with him, for more than half a year. He should feel some sense of guilt or loss at killing him. But he didn’t. He only felt justified and a twisted sense of pride at the fact that he’d protected you, even if that meant killing for it. 

For a moment, he was relieved, the knot in his stomach that had been there since he’d left with Joel days earlier easing. 

Then, he heard it. 

“Tommy!” 

His blood went cold. Joel’s voice was pleading and desperate. He’d heard him like this once before, just once.

“Tommy, help me!” 

He left Vince on the ground and ran to Joel. You were in his arms, staring down at your stomach, your breaths coming in shallow, pained paints. Joel had cut your ties, at least, and your hands were braced against him, your nails digging into him. There was red blossoming over you and Tommy stopped dead in his tracks. 

“No,” he breathed. 

Joel shook his head. 

“Gotta help me,” he said. “I can’t… You gotta help me, please, Tommy. Please.” 

You made a pained sound and winced, your whole face drawing tight in pain. 

“I know,” Joel said, looking back down at you, tightening his hold on you. “I know, I know, it hurts, it’s gonna be OK, I’ve got you, it’s OK…” 

“It’s not too bad,” you said, your voice pained. “Just… I think it missed the major stuff and I think the bullet went straight through, just have to get the bleeding under control and stop infection, that’s all, I just need…” 

Your voice broke off and you panted, the agony clear on your face. 

“It’s OK,” Joel said, clutching onto you as Tommy seemed to find control of his body again. “It’s OK, just tell us what to do, we’ve got you, it’s OK…” 

“Need towels,” you winced. “Gauze. Alcohol to flush it… don’t think the water here would be good, even if we boiled it…” 

“Got it,” Tommy said, running to the cabin and finding the collection of towels in one of the cabinets, gauze from your medical supplies, the highest proof liquor he could find in the stash at the house and ran back out to you. 

“Have to get this out of the way,” you said, unbuttoning your shirt and shrugging out of it on your injured side, hissing in pain as you did. You gritted your teeth and spoke again. “Need one of the towels, put it on the wound - both sides since I think the bullet went through - and hold pressure. It needs to be a lot of pressure, have to stop the bleeding. It’s going to look like it hurts but that’s OK…” 

Joel and Tommy maneuvered the towel around your wound and clamped down and you gasped in pain, one hand flying to Tommy’s shoulder, your fingers twisting in his shirt. 

“I know, I know,” Joel sounded pained, too. “I know it hurts. It’s OK, you’re gonna be OK…” 

You just nodded, staring up at him with wide eyes as you struggled to breathe through the pain. 

Tommy tried not to think about the night more than a year ago when Joel had said the same things to his daughter as she bled out in his arms. He tried not to think about whether or not Joel could survive that happening again, especially so soon to the first person he’d shown any kind of care for since then. He tried not to think about whether or not he could survive it, either. 

You, at least, stayed conscious and knew how to walk them through patching you up. This time when Joel got up from the bloodstained ground with a body in his arms, it was still breathing. 

He carried you, delicately, into the cabin, your head on his shoulder and your eyes closed. They cleaned you up as best they could before Joel tucked you into bed, setting you on your uninjured side and pulling the blankets up around you. You flinched in your sleep and Joel brushed your hair back from your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone. 

“C’mon,” Tommy whispered, jerking his head toward the door. “Should give her space.” 

Joel nodded and followed Tommy to the kitchen. 

“Drink?” Tommy asked, going for the cupboard with the liquor. Joel just nodded. Tommy poured them each a sizable glass before sitting across from him at the table. Joel took the cup but didn’t drink it. Instead, he set it on the table and turned it in his fingers, his jaw tight. 

“You OK?” He asked eventually. 

Joel sighed, staring at the liquor for another moment before meeting his brother’s eyes. 

“I thought it was gonna be like her,” he said quietly. “She was bleeding like she was and in pain like she was and I thought…” his voice broke. “I can’t watch someone else I…” 

He shook his head. 

“Someone else you what?” Tommy asked when Joel was quiet for too long. 

“Someone else I care about die like that,” he said, not looking at him. 

Tommy nodded slowly. 

“‘Bout time you figured it out,” he said. 

Joel glared at him. 

“Told you, attachment is dangerous. Saw why tonight, if I weren’t fuckin’ attached to her then…” 

“Then you’d have let him rape her?” Tommy asked. “Kill her?”

“No,” Joel snapped and then sighed. “But.. I wouldn’t have been afraid. I… I was so afraid, Tommy. I haven’t been afraid like that since… I can’t do that again. I can’t.” 

“You think I can?” Tommy asked, brows raised. “Jesus, Joel. You think I wasn’t fuckin’ terrified tonight? Think I broke a bone in my damn hand taking it out on that fuck…” 

Joel sighed. 

“Should let her go,” he stared out the window. “See if we can’t find a way to get her to a QZ or something…” 

“Yeah, because those are so damn great,” Tommy scoffed. 

“S’not safe out here,” Joel snapped. “And if we suddenly care about saving her, that puts us at risk…” 

“Don’t you think she’s worth a little risk?” Tommy asked. “You really think you’re gonna be satisfied with just me for the rest of your life? Because, no offense brother, I’m not exactly thrilled with the idea of having just your ugly mug around for the rest of my days.”

“She doesn’t want to be here,” Joel said. “Remember that? The fact that she’s been literally tied to us? You really want someone who you’re forcing to be there?” 

“Doesn’t have to stay that way,” Tommy said. “Lot’s happened…” 

There was a creak and Tommy looked up, over Joel’s shoulder to see you emerging from the bedroom, a pained look on your face. 

“What are you doing up?” He asked, leaving his drink and heading for you. “Need to use the bathroom or…” 

You shook your head as Tommy took your hand and you leaned against him, your body warm and soft. 

“He’s right,” Joel said, getting up, too. “You need to be resting…” 

“I know,” you nodded, wincing. “I know I do, but… I… I woke up alone and I just… it was like I could feel him there and I couldn’t calm down and… Could you sleep in the bed with me? Please? I think… I think if you’re there I’ll feel safe and…” 

“Course, little rabbit,” Tommy said gently. “Which one of us do you want?” 

His stomach clenched at that question. He wanted the answer to be him. He wouldn’t get in the way if it was Joel, of course, but he wanted to be your source of peace and safety. He wanted to be who you turned to when you needed someone. You looked up at him, your eyes wide. 

“Could it be both of you?” You asked sheepishly. “Please?” 

Tommy looked to Joel who looked baffled for a moment before he answered for the both of them. 

“Whatever you want,” he said. “C’mon, bed time.” 

The walk to the bedroom was slow and Joel and Tommy both helped you into the middle of the bed. Joel went to sleep at your back, Tommy at your front. 

“If we bump you or something and we hurt you, wake us up, OK?” Tommy said. You just nodded, curled up like a rabbit. He looked to Joel who just shrugged, the two of them climbing into bed with you. When Joel was in his place, you adjusted yourself back until you were pressed against him. Tommy lay down slowly, facing you and leaving as much space between you as he could. But you reached forward and tugged him closer, until his front was only a few inches from yours. Your smiled in the darkness. 

“Thank you,” you said softly, closing your eyes and relaxing. “This feels better.” 

“We’ve got you,” Joel said, his voice rough. “Take care of you.” 

Tommy wasn’t sure you heard him. He was pretty sure you were already asleep. 

***

Joel didn’t tie you up again. 

You were expecting him to, once you started becoming more mobile again. He didn’t mention it, didn’t even tell you to behave and not go running off. You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t care if you left or he could tell that you weren’t going to try to escape them now. 

Things were different after Vince. Joel and Tommy had gone from being the best parts of a bad situation to the people you needed to feel safe. You had to ask them every night, for the first week, if they would sleep in the bed with you. They never said no, alternating between who was at your back and your front. You just liked being between their large, firm, warm bodies, enveloped by their heat and their strength. Nothing could hurt you when you were between them, nothing. That much you knew. 

The two men took care of you while you recovered. Joel kept the fire going in the living room and would carry you to it in the morning. Tommy read to you for a change and you drifted in and out of consciousness on the couch to the soothing timbre of his voice. They helped you change your bandages and brought you water and soothed you when you woke up afraid. 

It took a few weeks before Joel said he wanted to go hunting. 

“Animals,” he clarified when you tensed. “Not people.” 

“Can I come?” You asked quietly. Tommy was at your back that night, Joel at your front. Tommy held you a little tighter.

“Don’t know if you’re up for it quite yet,” Joel replied, brushing your hair back from your forehead. 

“I’m ready,” you said quickly. “I can keep up, I…” 

“Ain’t worried about you keepin’ up,” Joel said. “Worried about you gettin’ hurt. I’ll go…” 

He must have seen at least some sign of the disappointment on your face in the dark. He sighed.

“What, little girl?” 

“I don’t want to be here alone,” you said softly. “I know Vince is dead but…” 

“I’m staying behind, too,” Tommy said. “Not going to leave you by yourself.” 

“But…” 

You went quiet. 

“But what?” Joel asked. 

“But you shouldn’t be out there on your own, either,” you said quietly. “It’s safer if Tommy goes, too, and…” 

“Not doing anything very dangerous,” Joel said. “I’ll be back before you know it. It’s OK.” 

You nodded, even though you didn’t really believe him. 

He left the next day and you spent the whole damn day worrying. Tommy tried to distract you, playing poker and asking you to read to him, but your eyes kept going back to look at the door, waiting for Joel to walk through it and prove that he was alive and well. 

When he returned just after dusk that evening, you jumped up from your chair at the dining room table and flung yourself at him, your arms going around his neck as you pressed your body against his. 

“What’s all this about?” Joel laughed a little, catching you out of the air. 

“I was worried,” you said, voice muffled by his shirt. “I’m glad you’re home.” 

He was still for a moment before he held you close. 

“Me too.” 

That night, you made Joel sleep at your front and you pressed yourself against him, your leg hitching up over his hip. His breathing stuttered but you didn’t move. Tommy kept his distance at your back before you half turned, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him against your back. 

“Need you both,” you yawned, body finally relaxing after being tense all day. “Please, need to feel you both.” 

Tommy hesitantly enveloped you, curving his legs around yours, his arm gently going around your waist. You smiled, drifting off surrounded by the men who protected you. 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise when you started waking up feeling wet. 

The first time, you damn near panicked, Joel and Tommy still asleep around you. You couldn’t remember any dreams that would have made you react that way, it didn’t seem like something that happened just before you went to sleep. But you were wet. 

It wasn’t until Tommy pressed against you in the kitchen, reaching something on a shelf over your head, that you realized what it was. 

You were turned on by them. By Joel and Tommy both. They were large, they were strong, they were handsome. Their bodies were warm and firm when they held you at night and you started wondering what they’d taste like, what they’d feel like as they slipped inside of you and put all that wetness to use. 

But more than that, they were safe. For the first time since the apocalypse had really begun, you felt secure. Yes, they might have taken you against your will but they’d taken care of you the way no one else ever had. They were safe and good to you and handsome and strong. You wanted them. 

More than wanted. Needed. Needed to feel them closer, needed them inside of you. Needed them so close that no one could take you away from them. 

One night, about two months after the incident with Vince, snow was piling high outside. Joel and Tommy had spent the day chopping wood, making sure there was enough stashed to ride out a storm. The three of you sat down to dinner, pulling one of the last of the rabbits Joel had trapped a few weeks earlier from your makeshift freezer of snow outside and roasting it over the fire, knowing you’d be stuck with jerky for a while going forward. You had a glass of whiskey with them, not enough to get you drunk but just enough to loosen you up. Enough to make you focus more on what you wanted. Enough for you to forget exactly why what you wanted was probably a bad idea. 

Joel was at your front in bed that night, your ass pressed back against Tommy as your chest was pressed against Joel. 

“Think the snow is going to be too crazy?” You asked quietly as Tommy’s thumb traced your lowest rib. 

“We’ll dig out if it is,” Joel shrugged. “We’ve got enough supplies to last us ’til spring. Ain’t too worried.” 

“Just gonna have a lot of time to kill,” Tommy said. You could hear the smile in his voice. “Might actually read one of those books of yours, little rabbit, instead of listen to you read ‘em.” 

The cabin creaked in the wind and you pressed yourself closer to Joel, your hand going back to Tommy to pull him closer, too. You nuzzled into Joel’s chest, the hairs there tickling the tip of your nose, and breathed deep. Even at the end of the world, he smelled good. Rugged, with a hint of sweat, like the wood he’d chopped and smoke from the fire he’d built. You wanted to be closer to him. You wanted to feel him. You wanted - needed - to taste him. 

So you did. 

You brushed your lips against his chest and you felt his breath hitch as you kissed him there. You let your mouth linger on his skin before you pulled back ever so slightly and licked your lips, tasting the salt of him on your own skin with a small, needy moan. 

“Little girl,” he said, voice strained. 

“Yes?” You asked softly, looking up at him. 

“Don’t think you know what you’re doin’,” he said through clenched teeth. 

“Yes I do.” 

“You’re askin’ for trouble is what you’re doin’,” he said. “So why don’t you…” 

“I know what I want,” you whispered. 

“Yeah?” Joel asked. “And what’s that?” 

“You,” you said. You felt Tommy start to pull away from your back but you grabbed him and held him to you. “Both of you.” 

Tommy tensed behind you and you kept ahold of him so he wouldn’t pull away. 

“Please,” you breathed. “If you want me…” 

“Don’t gotta be worried about that,” Tommy said, a hand slipping around your waist and curling up toward your breasts. “But… well, we talked about it and…” 

His voice trailed off. 

“And what?” You frowned, looking between the two of them. 

“We decided that it’s best of neither of us act on that,” Joel said. “Too much risk of someone gettin’ hurt out here as it is, don’t need to add jealousy to the mix…” 

“Who said anything about jealousy?” You asked. “I want both of you. I want to feel and taste and experience both of you, please. Feels like I’ve wanted it so long it almost hurts, I promise I won’t ask you to choose between me and each other, I want you both, I want you both so bad and…” 

Your voice cracked, desperation both pathetic and obvious and you were having a hard time caring.

“Who are we to deny a lady what she wants?” Tommy asked quietly. 

Joel was quiet for a moment. 

“You sure about this?” He asked. 

“Think I can handle sharing,” Tommy said. “Worth the risk if I can get just a little bit of her…” 

Your heart fluttered at that. 

“Good,” Joel said, voice low and rough. “But wasn’t quite so worried about you, brother.” 

“I’m sure,” you said, damn near panting now. “Please…” 

“Then why don’t you be a good girl,” Joel said, adjusting so he could nudge you down onto your back. “And let us have you.” 

Joel started pulling at the buttons of your shirt, opening you up slowly to him as Tommy slid down your body to your panties. He pulled them down and opened your legs to him as Joel reached over to the nightstand and flicked on a flashlight, angling it away from the bed so there was just enough light to see each other by. 

“Fuck,” he said as he pulled your shirt fully open, exposing your bare chest to him. He reached one large, callused hand forward and cupped your breast, cradling the weight of it in his palm before curling a thumb over your nipple and brushing over you, making you moan. “So fuckin’ pretty. No idea how bad I wanted to see you like this…” 

“Even better here,” Tommy said from his place between your thighs. He ran his thumb over your slit, adding pressure when he reached your clit. You sucked in a breath in shock as you squirmed a little below him. “She’s got the prettiest damn pussy I’ve ever seen.” 

“Think she tastes as good as she looks?” Joel asked. 

“Gonna find out,” Tommy said, leaning forward, his tongue following the same path as his thumb had found just a moment earlier. He gently teased your clit with the tip of his tongue before pressing it between your lower lips, slipping down until he found your tight, wet hole. He dipped his tongue inside you there and he moaned, thrusting shallowly in and out as he toyed with your clit with his thumb. “Tastes so damn good, Joel. So fuckin’ good, like sunshine and honeysuckle and the best damn candy you ever tasted…” 

“Bet she does,” Joel said, bending and putting his lips on your bared breasts. He held you gently in his hands at first before he sucked your nipple gently into his mouth. He moaned with it and you did, too, as he sucked you for a moment trailing kisses to your other breast and doing the same there. Tommy watched, almost awed for a moment, before going back to your dripping heat. You moaned when his tongue slid inside you again, your back arching. You felt Joel smile against your chest. 

“Think she likes that,” he said. “Keep doin’ it.” 

“Planning on it,” Tommy panted from between your legs before diving back into you. His tongue spread you open as his fingers worked your clit and you rocked your hips against his face, any sense of shame you had long gone. 

Joel kissed up your chest to your throat, the brush of his lips and the scratch of his beard making you shiver and gush a little onto Tommy’s tongue as he ate you. He moaned as you did and Joel kissed up your jaw toward your lips but stopped just short of kissing you. You whimpered. 

“Not yet, little girl,” he breathed, reaching to cup your breast. “Want you to kiss him first, after you fuckin’ soak him with your come. Want to taste you on your tongue when I kiss you the first time. Think you can do that for me? Think you can come all over his fucking face?” 

You nodded, not fully able to form words. Tommy increased his pace and added a finger to where his tongue was working inside you, spreading you open wider, finding the soft places inside you to pet and press. 

“Doin’ so good for me,” Joel said, sounding a little breathless and needy. “So, so good for me. Want you to give into it, baby. Want you to give in to me n’him. Give in and come, give yourself to us, you can do it, come on baby, come on…” 

He pressed his lips to your throat just as Tommy added pressure to your clit and his finger was deep inside you and you started to come, crying out with the force of it as your walls fluttered around him. One of your hands flew to Joel’s thigh, digging into him with sharp desperation, while the other went to Tommy’s curls, twisting and tangling in them as you worked yourself against his face. 

“There she is,” Joel breathed and you opened your eyes to find him watching you intently, pupils blown and face lined with want. “Good girl, comin’ so hard for us. Just let it all go, baby. Give it all to us, we want all of you, all your pleasure, just give it all to us, come on…” 

Tommy ate you through your orgasm until you went limp. Tommy sat up, breathless, looking down at your exposed body for a moment before taking his place on the other side of you from Joel. Your half dazed eyes traced over his face and saw traces of your slick on his lips. 

“Here baby,” he said, gently cupping your face and tilting your head toward his. He pressed his mouth to yours and you weren’t sure where the taste of you ended and the taste of him began as his tongue swept into your mouth. After a moment, he pulled back ever so slightly, just enough to look in your eyes for a second before pressing his lips gently to yours once more. When he pulled back again, he just watched as Joel turned your head toward his and kissed you, too. 

It was soft and delicate at first but, as soon as his tongue pressed into your mouth, he became desperate, kissing you hard and deep, moaning as he did. Even though you just came, you could feel yourself getting hot and tight again. 

He pulled away eventually, looking across you to Tommy. 

“She does taste good,” He said. 

“Told you.” 

Joel laughed once before cupping your breast again, looking you up and down. 

“We overwhelmed you yet, little girl?” He asked. “Need us to stop so we don’t break you?” 

“No,” you panted, looking between them. “And… I think I’d be OK breaking for you.” 

“Fuck,” Tommy hissed, sliding a hand down your body to the apex of your thighs to just cup your pussy. “Think she can take both of us at once? Don’t think I can wait my turn…” 

“I bet she can,” Joel said, looking down at you. “You ever taken two cocks at once?” You swallowed hard and shook your head. “Think you can be our good girl and tell us if it gets to be too much?” You nodded. “Good.” 

Joel took you by the waist and pulled you tight to his front before he rolled onto his back, taking you with him with a sharp little squeak. You could feel the thick of his cock through his sweatpants and you ground yourself down on it, moaning as you did. Tommy got out of bed for a moment, just long enough to take his sweatpants and underwear off and leaving him naked in front of you. 

Your eyes went wide at his cock. Thick and long with just the right amount of curve, he worked just the head of himself, smirking a little at your expression. 

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Take real good care of you when we make it fit. Besides, not mine you gotta worry about.” 

Your eyes got wider, looking down in shock at Joel, who laughed. 

“We’ll make sure you’re good and ready, baby,” he said, pulling you up his body just enough that you were no longer half sitting on his cock. He reached low and shoved down his sweatpants before he kicked them off the rest of the way and you tried to get a look at it. 

Joel had another idea. 

“Here,” he nudged you so you were sitting up, your bare, dripping pussy on his stomach. “Get a feel for me, baby.” 

He lifted you just enough that, when he set you down again, your core was against the root of him. You gasped at the feel of him against you, so long and thick that it made your head spin. 

“Fuck,” you panted, your hands going to his chest as you started to grind down against his length. He groaned. 

“That’s it, baby,” he said. “Such a good girl, get me all nice and slick with you. Think you can make yourself come on my cock before I’m even inside you?” 

You just nodded, working your hips harder and faster against him. Joel moaned. 

“Good fucking girl,” he said, his large hands finding your thighs, fingertips sinking into the flesh of them. “Want you to suck his cock while you do. Gotta get him all wet to go in that little asshole of yours. Think you can do that for us?” 

You just nodded and sat up from Joel a little more as Tommy crawled toward you on the bed, working his dripping length as he did. Your mouth dropped open and you took him into it, sucking and licking his head before starting down the shaft, moving slow as you looked up at him through your eyelashes, relishing the look on his face before he dropped his head back and moaned in pleasure. You were doing this to him, you were bringing this strong, powerful man to his knees with just your mouth. 

“Holy shit you’re good at that,” Tommy moaned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, gonna come down that pretty throat of yours if you’re not careful…” 

“Don’t push him too far, little girl,” Joel said, rocking his hips up into yours and making you gasp. “Want to take all of you, can’t wear him out too quick…” 

“Fuck, her mouth Joel, Jesus,” his fingers went to knot in your hair as he started fucking into your throat and you swallowed around him. “Fuck, you try not comin’ in her here…” 

“Save it,” Joel said, sounding a little close to the edge himself. “Imagine how good her ass is gonna feel…” 

“Oh fuck,” Tommy said, pulling you off his cock and panting for breath. Joel kept fucking his cock up against your pussy, the thickest part of him working your clit and making you moan, your second orgasm building. Tommy cupped your face, watching your desperation as you got close to coming from his brother’s cock. “Fuck, so damn pretty when she’s about to come. Work of fuckin’ art…” 

“Tell me about it,” Joel grunted, sounding almost pained. “Fuck, you think she’s close? Need inside her, can’t…” 

“Oh she’s close,” Tommy said as you whimpered, the ability to form words far behind you. “You like what he’s doin’ to you, little rabbit?” You nodded urgently. Tommy smiled. “Good, good. Want him to go a little faster? Just a bit?” You nodded again. 

“Fuck,” Joel panted, increasing his pace, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm. He pulled back just far enough on one stroke that his head caught on your entrance and the tiniest bit of him slipped inside you for just a second but it was enough to set you off, every ounce of tight need that had built up inside you throbbing and pulsing over Joel’s heavy cock. “Jesus Christ… fuck, gotta feel so fuckin’ good to be inside her when she does that…” 

“She’s so good for us,” Tommy said, watching you intently, his eyes locked on yours. “Doin’ so good for us. Just gotta do that one more time when we’re inside you, OK baby? Think you can do that for us?” 

You felt on the verge of tears but nodded anyway, wanting nothing more than to feel them inside of you when you came. 

“Good girl,” Tommy breathed. “Now do me a favor, get my cock nice and wet one more time for me…” 

You obeyed, taking him in your mouth to the root and letting your mouth soak him. He moaned, holding the head of himself in your throat, before pulling from you slowly and gently. 

“Bend over for us,” Tommy said, helping you adjust so you were down against Joel’s chest with your ass back in the air. He moved to be behind you, his legs over Joel’s as your thighs were around Joel’s hips. He ran a thumb from your leaking center to your ass and let out a low moan. “Fuck, every goddamn inch of you… fuckin’ gorgeous.” 

“You OK if we try to get inside you?” Joel asked, his voice low and needy.

“Yes,” you managed. “Please, fuck, need you, need you both so bad…” 

“I know you do baby,” Joel said, a comforting hand coming to the middle of your back. “Gonna start with me in your pussy then Tommy’s gonna take your ass, gonna make you feel so fuckin’ full baby…” 

Joel adjusted you ever so slightly, reaching his free hand down to lift his cock and line it up with your entrance. There was some resistance, the thickness of him almost too much to take but he pushed past it until you felt his whole head pop into your hole. 

“Oh fuck,” he groaned. “Fuck, fuck… Need just a second, baby. Gonna come too quick if we go now just… fuck…” 

You just nodded against his chest as your body adjusted to the small part of his cock that you’d taken. 

“OK baby,” he panted. “Gonna give it all to you now.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, he just thrust into you and you cried out with the almost brutal stretch of him pushing deep into you, your tight channel rippling over him. 

“Fuck,” Joel hissed, his fingers pressing into the bared skin of your back. 

“How’s she feel?” Tommy asked, sounding almost pained. 

“So goddamn tight,” Joel groaned. “Like she was fuckin’ built to take this cock, my GOD…” 

Joel’s hand slid down to your lower back and he put pressure there, holding you in place as his hips lowered so his cock was fully seated inside of you. You rocked your hips, desperate for just a little friction. 

“Fuck, so pretty,” Tommy said, his thumb going from your stretched opening up to your tight bud. “Need you to hold still for me, can’t get inside you if you move too much…” 

You nodded even though he couldn’t see it and stilled, the thick, heavy weight of Joel within you burning you from the inside out. You felt a warm drop of liquid on your ass and realized that Tommy was probably trying to lube you up with spit. His thumb worked gentle circles over your puckered ring of muscle. 

“Anyone ever been in this tight little hole?” He asked, almost reverently. 

“One guy,” you managed. “In college…” 

“You like it?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” you said, breath picking up at the thought of it. “Fuck, yeah, I did…” 

“Gonna make you love it baby,” he said. “Now just relax for me.” 

You did your best to obey but you were already stretched so tight there it was hard to imagine anything else fitting inside that half of your body. But you wanted it. Wanted to feel both of them deep within you, the three of you together. 

Tommy pressed his cock head to your hole and spit one more time before he started pushing in. You whimpered at it and Joel’s hand ran in a soothing pattern up and down your back, the tight ring of your ass holding firm. 

“C’mon, just let me in,” Tommy panted, pressing harder. “Just let me in, baby, make you feel so good when I do…” 

“Relax for us,” Joel said in your ear, so soft you doubted Tommy could hear. “This was what you wanted, right? For us to take you, make you ours? Can’t do that if you won’t let him in, little girl. Just let him in, let us have you…” 

Tommy’s cock pushed past the ring of muscle and he sank a few inches inside you with a strangled moan. 

“Holy shit,” he panted. “Fuck, never… never felt something this tight, Jesus Christ…” 

He pushed deeper, slowly, gently, and you pressed your face down into Joel’s warm, broad chest, moaning and needy. You’d never felt this full, never felt this stretched, never felt this overwhelmed. Never felt like you so totally, utterly belonged to anyone else.

“Almost inside you,” Tommy panted. “Fuck, doin’ so good for us. So so good…” 

Another minute and Tommy’s hips met the plush of your ass and he moaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he did. 

“Fuck, we’re inside you baby,” Tommy said, his head falling forward until it met the middle of your back. “So deep inside you, fuck…” 

“Taking both of us, baby,” Joel whispered, just for you. “Really ours now, gonna take such good care of you…” 

“I gotta move, Joel,” Tommy panted, sitting up again. “Fuck, I can’t… I gotta… fuck.” 

“We’re gonna fuck you now,” Joel said, loud enough that Tommy could hear him this time. “You just take us and come on our cocks like a good girl.” 

You nodded into Joel’s chest. 

Tommy started to move first, pulling back slowly before thrusting in harder and faster. When he thrust in, Joel slid out until just the head of him remained inside your channel. When he pushed back inside, Tommy pulled back again. The men set the pace, alternating in perfect rhythm so you were never empty, giving you the mind-blowing combination of almost constant friction with constant stretch. 

It didn’t take long before you started to tighten around them, their cocks working your holes in tandem, filling you and stretching you and claiming every inch of you. Joel had to push back inside with a grunt as your orgasm built, the tightness of your inner walls almost too much for him. 

“She’s gettin’ close,” Tommy panted. “Fuck, already tryin’ to milk my cock…” 

“Think we can get her there,” Joel said, breathless, thrusting somehow deeper than he’d been before, making you gasp. 

“Fuck, need to feel her come,” Tommy said, gripping your hips tighter and starting to fuck in and out of you faster. Joel followed suit, thrusting in deep and hard on his final stroke. 

“I’m… fuck,” you panted, your insides hot and coiled with pleasure so intense you could barely remember your own name. “I’m close, so close, want to come with you, please, want to come with both of you, please, please, please…” 

You kept whimpering and pleading, mind foggy, as Joel and Tommy picked up the pace, Joel’s arms wrapping tightly around you, holding you close and tight to his skin as his and Tommy’s orgasms built. 

“Gonna come,” Tommy said. “Fuck, gonna… I’m gonna…” 

“Please, please, please…” You sobbed and they both thrust deep inside at the same time, stretching you to your limit, both throbbing deep and hard, triggering your own orgasm, walls clenching onto them tight and rippling over them. 

“Did so good for us,” Joel whispered softly in your ear as your core fluttered around them, their cocks going still inside you. He held you close, one hand on your ribs, the other on the back of your head. “So fucking good for us…” 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” 

Your whole body went limp, nothing but an overwrought, dripping mess as Tommy slowly, gently, pulled himself out of you. You felt some of his come drip out after him but he scooped it with his finger and pushed it back inside, covering your tightening hole with his palm until it closed again. 

“Belongs inside you, baby,” he said softly. “Gotta keep it where it belongs…” 

He collapsed next to you and Joel and you whimpered at the loss of contact. You wanted - needed - to be touching both of them. Joel seemed to understand, rolling with you gently onto his side and nudging you back into Tommy. His arms went around you and held you as Joel pulled out of you, a trial of your come and his running between your thighs to his softening cock. He pressed close to you once he was outside your body again, his cock all warm and wet against your skin. 

“That what you needed, little girl?” Joel asked gently, tracing the outline of your face with his fingertips. You couldn’t keep your eyes open, letting them fall closed with a contented sigh and a nod. Joel’s lips brushed your forehead. “Good. Gotta take care of what’s ours.” 

A/N: Yeah so this will almost definitely be a longer series in the future but this is it for now! Sorry for the wait and for the fact that it's completely unhinged.

Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for being here! Love you!

Taglist: @pockcock

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #smut fic #joel miller x female reader x tommy miller #dead dove december #dead dove do not eat #tommy miller x reader

[alastor-is-best-deer-boi]

The Littlest Morningstar

Rating: Gen

Warnings: None

Tags: Pre-canon, fluff, domestic fluff, parenthood, canon compliant for the most part I think except maybe one headcanon

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Lucifer and Lilith Morningstar admire their newborn daughter, Charlotte.

Note: After episode five I just had to write this! I had it stuck in my head and needed to get it out. I know posting it right before new episodes tomorrow seems crazy, but better now than tomorrow I think. Hope you enjoy all the fluff! This is my first Hazbin Hotel fic, so I hope it's not ooc.

Also, I know the title is ironic considering Charlie grows up to be taller than her dad, but it fits in this context.

Additionally, we need more little Charlie gifs! I know it's not accurate to the fic, but it's the best I can do.

Also Read on AO3

Lucifer sat slightly curled up with his wife, Lilith, on their bed. The couple leaned against each other, taking in the quiet, peaceful moment with the newest addition to their family, their newborn daughter.

He watched how his wife doted on her sleeping daughter, bundled up comfortably in a soft blanket. Lilith whispered sweet words to the infant, a smile on her face. Lucifer felt like he’d fallen in love with his wife all over again, his heart full of love for his precious family.

“What’s on your mind, dear?” Lilith spoke, still keeping her tone soft to not wake up Charlotte.

Lucifer looked up at her, a small smile on his face. “Just thinking about how lucky I am to have both of you in my life… and, I don’t know, I guess I’m feeling a little overwhelmed with love right now.” He chuckled softly, wiping a tear from his eye.

Lilith beamed, taking his hand in hers for a moment, rubbing gentle circles with her thumb on his skin.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

She let out a small sigh, though still with a happy expression. “Tired… but overjoyed.”

“It was a lot to go through, but you, of course, handled it gracefully throughout the whole thing.” He kissed her hand.

“The whole thing? I feel like you may be exaggerating just a tad.” She joked.

“No, I mean it. How could I possibly lie about my beautiful, strong, and amazing wife, huh? It’s not something I’d do.” He grinned, meaning every word he said.

“Thank you, honey.” Lilith smiled and placed her hand on his cheek, leaning closer to kiss him.

Lucifer gladly accepted, closing his eyes and enjoying her presence. They eventually parted and rested their foreheads together; both smiling.

He pulled away when he heard the tiniest-sounding yawn he’d ever heard in his life; causing a wave of emotions in his heart. Lilith and he looked down at their tiny daughter. Her face had scrunched up, and with some effort, she opened her eyes.

“Oh, just look at her, Luce…” Lilith cooed, making sure her daughter was still settled comfortably in the blanket.

He could feel tears welling up again, quickly wiping them away and smiling. “She’s beautiful.”

“She looks like you, has your eyes.” She murmured, looking down at her with a small smile.

Lucifer felt a swell of pride seeing how similar his daughter’s eyes looked to his. Long ago, he struggled with some of the changes that had been done to him when he fell, the color of his eyes included. But seeing them in his daughter, they suited her wonderfully.

“Her eye shape is like yours, and she kinda has your nose,” he commented. “I think she’s a perfect mix of us, right?”

Lilith couldn’t help but smile again. “Absolutely perfect. Do you want to hold her?”

“Oh, really? You sure you’re ready to hand her over? Just look how small she is, practically the size of my hand! So fragile… I just… well, I…” He chuckled nervously, stammering.

“Honey, you won’t hurt her. It’ll be okay.” She cut off his anxious rambling, attempting to soothe him.

Lucifer looked up at her, slightly furrowing his brows and nodding, attempting to get his nervousness under control. “I’m sorry, you’re right… I guess I’m just…”

“Scared? I understand. You’re not alone in this.” She gave him an empathetic look. “We’ve been practicing for the whole nine months. You got this.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and nodded again. “Thank you, Lili. I’m ready.”

“Don’t forget to unbutton your shirt a bit. Skin-to-skin contact is important for newborns.” She explained.

“Oh, uh, right.” Lucifer muttered and worked on unbuttoning a few top buttons on his shirt. He was significantly dressed down for the whole experience, wearing a long-sleeved plain button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and slacks.

When he was done, he held his arms out, carefully taking the infant in a secure hold as his wife slowly passed her to him. Little Charlotte blinked a couple of times, looking around the room. She had managed to wriggle one of her tiny hands out of the swaddle, still having her little fingers in an instinctive fist.

Lucifer held her close to his heart, hoping she could feel all the overwhelming love coming from the people who loved her most. He smiled, listening to her soft breathing and quiet coos.

“We’re so glad you’re here with us, little one,” he spoke softly, noticing how curious she was, continuing to look around. “Yeah, it’s a big change… all these new sights and senses. But you’re safe here with us. I promise.”

Lilith rested her head against her husband’s shoulder, watching them both lovingly.

Lucifer gently touched her soft, chubby cheeks. His thumb carefully rubbed the adorable little red circles on her face. They were just like the ones on his face.

Charlotte made a little content coo, already heading for the process of babbling. Though it would be a long while to get to that point. She reached her tiny hand out, gripping Lucifer’s finger.

“Wow… she’s way stronger than she looks.” He chuckled softly. “I suppose she takes after her mother.”

Lilith placed her hand on theirs for a moment, not fighting the urge to smile again. “She takes after both of her parents.”

He nodded, feeling tears in his eyes start to well up again. “She’s perfect… thank you for giving me the opportunity to be a father, I mean it.” He looked at Lilith, feeling nothing but pure love.

She smiled and gave him a quick kiss. Next, she kissed her daughter’s head; causing the newborn’s face to scrunch up in surprise for a split second.

Lucifer chuckled at her adorably confused expression. “You okay, Char Char? I guess it’s another new thing to get used to.”

“Char Char?” Lilith repeated, an amused smile showing on her face. “She’s barely hours old and you’ve already come up with a nickname?”

“Ah, well, I guess I couldn’t help myself… she’s just so cute!” He blushed a little from embarrassment.

“Of course she is. Look who her father is.” Lilith teasingly flirted a little. She laughed shortly, seeing how red his face turned.

“Thank you, dear.” Lucifer smiled and looked away for a brief second before looking back down at his daughter, gaining his composure somewhat.

Even though she wasn’t at the age yet to know how to smile, the corner of Charlotte’s mouth pulled up a little, giving the appearance of a smile.

Lucifer rested his face against Lilith’s shoulder for a second. “I don’t know if I have the strength for this Lili.” His voice muffled slightly.

She picked up on why and chuckled quietly. “Why is that?”

“Just—look at her! My heart can’t take how cute she is,” he said in a hushed tone, turning to look at his daughter again.

“I guess you’ll have to get used to it.” She smiled.

“I have no choice.” He sighed, clearly smiling as well.

Charlotte cooed again, and he gently patted her head, feeling the soft golden curls of her hair.

“I can tell she’s getting sleepy again… or maybe hungry… or both.” He furrowed his brows. “I’m going to have to learn all the differences.”

“You’ll get them in time,” she replied.

“Do you want to take her again?” He asked. “I don’t want to hoard all the baby cuddles…”

“If you’re okay with it, and there’s no such thing as hoarding baby cuddles.”

Lucifer scoffed lightheartedly. “Yet.”

He kissed Charlotte’s little red cheeks before handing her back to her mother. He watched her settle back into her mother’s arms, yawning again.

“Oh, you were right about her being hungry… I’m guessing after this she’ll probably fall asleep again,” Lilith spoke, nursing her daughter.

“Sounds about right. That’s the life of a baby, especially one as new as her.”

Eventually, as they had predicted, Charlotte fell asleep. Lucifer listened to her calm breathing again, feeling at peace, which had been hard to come by in his life before.

“We’re parents now,” he stated. “This is our new life…”

“Still feeling glad about it?” Lilith asked.

“I’m overjoyed.” He spoke honestly. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

She nodded. “I’m sure after a bit we’ll settle into our new routine.”

Lucifer looked up at her and smiled, appreciating how wise she was being. What would he do without her?

“I know I sound like a broken record, but I’m so lucky to have you two… I love you both.” He managed to keep his voice steady.

Lilith kissed his cheek. “I feel the same.”

Lucifer hoped he’d be good at this whole father thing. He knew that realistically every parent made mistakes, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t give it his best. And it didn’t change the fact that no matter what, he would love his daughter with everything he had.

“I love you, Charlotte. More than anything.” He thought.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel amazon prime #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin charlie #charlie hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lilith #lilith morningstar #lucifer x lilith #baby fic #kid fic #my writing

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. PTSD, mentions of assault, flashbacks of assault, anxiety, anger, trauma, hypersexuality as a trauma response, possessive behaviour.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my pretty petals, here is the next chapter as promised, we are full speed ahead from here, and I may post the next Aemond POV installment either today or tomorrow, currently undecided. Please remember to read the trigger warnings before reading the chapters.

Thank you all for the love and support as always, you guys are so sweet! Makes my heart very happy.

Enjoy <3

Chapter 77: Confessions 

Aemond sat in the arm chair in front of the fire in your shared chambers in silence, staring into the flames. You had both been in a daze as you were sent back to your chambers, escorted by three King’s guards. 

Helaena and Lucerys had been waiting for you inside when you arrived.

Always there.

Aemond did not speak as he walked, nor did he reach out to touch you as you were walked speedily through the corridors, his hands still curled in fists, and lone eye ablaze. His anger set you on edge, and the fear you had forcefully pushed down and away, slowly rose to the surface again in the prospects of not just one of your uncles wrath, but two.

The young Prince's violet eye never left the flames of the fireplace, even as you stood in front of it meekly. 

“Aemond.” 

He did not reply.

“Aemond.” You said again, his gaze still not lifting from the fire, lips pulled down into a hard sneer.

Your eyes flicked down to his hands, which were fisted atop the arms of the chair, blood beginning to dry on his tightly clenched knuckles. 

He needed a Maester.

Stepping away from the fireplace, you moved towards him, Helaena and Lucerys’ bodies becoming shadows behind you. Your shaky hand reached out as you whispered again, and touched his shoulder cautiously, “Kepus.” 

Slowly, Aemond’s head turned to look at your hand upon his body, not reacting to your voice or touch, simply looking at it. It sparked a moment of apprehension through you, and so just as slowly as you had placed your palm there, you took it off. 

Aemond’s gaze finally moved up your wrist, following the path of your arm, your neck, and then finally to your face, jaw still tightly clenched.

“Aem…”

“You are so broken that you seek comfort from me, the man who killed your brother. His own nephew.”

You reared back as though you had been slapped.

Broken.

Broken.

He watched as your face crumpled, lip shaking as tears welled in your eyes again.

Aemond was hurt. 

And so he was lashing out to hurt you.

He had not changed.

He was the same as he always had been.

He was just the same. 

They were all the same.

A lone tear slid down your cheek as your breath stuttered in your chest, hands curling into fists beside you.

Aemond, realising what he had said, had a moment of clarity and reached a hand outwards towards you in regret, trying to grasp the hand that was closest between you.

“I’m s-“

Dracarys.

You shook your head roughly, “Don’t.”

“Y/n, I-“

The thread of resolve that had been frayed inside of you, snapped.

“I am surrounded by vipers! I am alone in this Keep.” You hissed, the heat of anger rising with no sign of stopping. You stepped away from your uncle angrily, catching the enraged face of Lucerys as you moved, who continued to utter beneath his breath.

“Your brother raped me, and where was my husband? Off fucking his whore in Harrenhal like the dutiful Prince he so claims to be. Your mother knew and did nothing.” 

Aemond looked away at the words, which lit the sparks ablaze, more anger flowing through you that you did not know you possessed, resolve feeling more frayed and distraught than ever, your body bursting with wrath.

“Aegon was inside of me, whilst you left me here. He fucked his seed into me with he hopes of a bastard.” 

Aemond breathed an angry breath through his nose, face snapping to yours.

“You call me broken?" You sneered, "You took Lucerys. At night I dream of him, of his small face.” A tear slid down your cheek, “I cannot escape the visions in which you took him from me, of where I watched in horror as Vhagar tore him from the sky. I see him everywhere.” You took a step towards him, hand moving to violently jab a pointed finger at your own chest, nail pressing into the skin.

Dracarys.

Pretty petals.

“You call me broken? My mother had her throne taken from her, and my sister born still. I am trapped in a Keep surrounded by enemies. My only solace is a man who has raped me just as his brother did.”

The more you spoke, the more you could not stop the words that flew from your lips, watching as Aemond’s chest rose and fell angrily. 

“I was forced to marry a man who has sought nothing but pleasure in my anguish!” You screamed at the Prince, coming closer until you stood in front of him, his face still as he watched you.

“Helaena threw herself from Maegor’s Holdfast to be impaled on spikes below, because she couldn’t bear another day. My own husband leaves me to fuck his bastard whore before the whole court, knowing that his brother would defile me! And you think me broken?”

Aemond did not answer.

“Say it again. Call me broken.” You sneered down at him.

Silence.

The only sound the crackling fire, and whispers of Helaena and Lucerys behind you.

“Am I only broken now that your brother has been inside of me? Am I no longer a toy you wish to play with? ” Tears slid from your eyes as you shook with anger.

You were furious.

You were horrified. 

You were grieving, and tired, and scared, and alone.

“Tell me.” You demanded.

Aemond blinked.

“Tell me!” You screamed at his silence.

Still, nothing.

Your hand flew through the air, slapping him roughly across the scarred side of his face, the sound of the hit breaking the rooms quiet.

“Tell me.” You seethed looking down at him, his head slowly turning to look at you, blood on his lip resurfacing as your slap reopened the cut from Aegon's fists.

And yet even after your outburst, even after your demands, your screams, your cries, and the hit upon his face in which you knew would hurt him deeply, Aemond sat still, looking at you heave angry breaths, tears filling your eyes, as the side of his face blushed red from your hand. 

The dam spilt over.

“Tell me.” You begged, a sob slipping from your lips.

Before you could blink, you were engulfed in Aemond’s arms, your head tucked beneath his chin as you stiffened. You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he held you tighter, your arms stuck by your side. 

You inhaled deeply, trying to dispell the tide that rose inside of you, but it was no use. The wave crashed over you, and you sobbed loudly into his chest, arms coming to grip onto his shirt in front of you.

You stood as he held you, sobbing into his robes, his grip never faltering.

You cried until you felt you could not cry anymore. 

You felt so defeated.

So tired.

So angry.

Perhaps you truly were broken.

"You are stronger than you think.” Came the whisper of Aemond atop your skull, finally breaking the silence, “I think you are the blood of the mighty House Targaryen.” His chest vibrated against your face as you cried.

Stronger than you think.

Then why do I feel so weak?

“The blood of Old Valyria. Iksā se kostōba issaros nyke gīmigon.” You are the strongest person I know.

You are so broken that you seek comfort from me, the man who killed your brother. His own nephew.

With a surge of anger, you pushed away from him, separating yourself from the arms that had held you as you cried. 

“Then why do you tear me apart?” You sneered.

Why?

Why?

Aemond stood, hands limp by his side as he looked at you.

Silence again. 

You shook your head and fled, leaving the chambers and the man inside them behind you. Moving past the guards who looked at you peculiarly, tears still running down your cheeks. 

You needed comfort. 

You needed solace. 

You needed familiarity. 

And so your legs took you to a place where you could find all three, down to the Godswood.

As your feet moved across the soft grass, you tilted your head backwards to look up at its crimson leaves, dancing in a soft breeze that swept through the Keep. Your tears flowed as you moved towards the place you always sat beneath its trunk.

Why do you punish me, Gods?

What have I done that I need to repent for?

Is this because I am acursed as a Kinslayer?

Is this my atonement?

The Gods did not answer your questions as you laid you back against the trunk, exhaustion seeping out of you and into the earth below. You wished for the ground to open up, and for you to fall through the cracks and be swallowed whole. To be done with such a life. To be numb to the pain.

I know I came here to help, but I find the strength I had dwindling. Was this how it was always to be? To suffer the sins of man? To suffer the sins of my uncles? Please Gods, give me the strength to do what I must. I am losing hope. I am losing myself to madness.

To grief.

Please.

You shut your eyes as you prayed. 

Please, help me on the path I must take. Let Aegon die. Kill him for what he has done. By my hand or another. By his own hand. By wine or ales hand. By the slip of his foot, or the hoof of a horse, or the fault of his dragon.

Let the Stranger take him.

The prayers did not stop as you sat under the branches and leaves of the Godswood, praying for help, from anyone, promising that you would do anything.

To have them take Aegon.

For the war be over.

To help you.

Your eyes stayed shut, and the exhaustion that never left your bones swept you away to a light sleep, prayers following you to your dreams as you sat beneath the trees branches even there, its face blinking at you as you begged and pleaded for guidance.

But the dream was ripped away from you as the Godswood had opened its mouth to speak, and you woke to the gentle whisper of your name. 

Your eyes shot open to see Aemond standing above you, looking down at you with a soft face. His knuckles were washed of the blood that had dried upon them, and there now sat scabbed cuts and pinkish bruises upon his pale skin. 

His hand came out, as it had before, palm up in offering to help you stand. Yet as you looked at him, all you could think of was his last words to you.

You are so broken that you seek comfort from me, the man who killed your brother.

His own nephew.

Sniffing you ignored the hand, and pulled yourself stiffly to stand. Your uncle watched you, the sky around you darkened, and it was only then had you realised you had slept the entire day away. 

For the first time in days, you had slept a decent sleep.

Aemond continued to look at you as you dusted down your skirts, before his chin stretched upwards and he cast his eye to the leaves above you. The crimson in the evenings light looked almost black.

You realised his lips had moved before the words followed them. His voice was so quiet, so soft, gentle like the leaves that continued to rustle above you.

“I used to sit here, when we were young…” The air around you was tense as he whispered, eye still cast upwards to the leaves he watched as he reminisced, “I would listen to you read. It was not often that I could get away from him, or your brothers.”

You kept your gaze on his face.

“It was always you.”

Aemond's gaze moved and his eye settled back on you.

“It has always been you.”

It has always been you.

The worlds curled around you like the serpent in your dreams.

It has always-

“Please,” Aemond broke the spell, “Come dine with me.”

His voice was so low, that you almost had to strain to hear him. 

Your stomach clenched at the thought of food, the realisation that you had not eaten at all dawning on you. You searched his sharp features before giving him a shallow nod, and following him back through the Keep to your chambers, where the three guards still sat stationed outside. 

It has always been you.

You ate in mostly silence as tension filled the air of the chambers. The maids had come with your meal and had watched you closely, waiting for you to ask or command them for something should you need it.

But you didn't. 

And so to quell the pain, and anxiety, and anger that continued to turn about inside of you, you drank from your goblet of Dornish spiced wine, not honeyed Essos wine, and let the warm burning of the alcohol distract your thoughts and give you something to focus on.

It has always been you.

“Is the food to your liking?” Aemond asked, his hands lowering to the table as he waited for your response.

Your approval.

“It’s fine.” You replied, voice clipped.

Why was he asking you that?

“Is there anything that you need?” His tone held uncertainty in it, as though he was tiptoeing around you. Around your anger.

Broken.

The fire that had been tamed roared back to life, everything about him irritating you in that moment. The way he sat, the way he looked at you. The way his face bruised on one side of his cheek, the cut on his lips, the cuts on his hands.

“The mundanity of these questions aren’t going to change what happened. What you said.”

Aemond blinked once, placing the cutlery on his plate, “I don't know what you want from me.”

What you want from me.

What you want from me?

You scoffed, “Do you want me to pretend that Aegon hadn’t come into these chambers and rape me on our bed? Do you want me to pretend that I am okay with what you said to me?”

“You didn’t have an issue with pretending before.”

The sound of your hands slamming your own cutlery down cut through the room.

"If you think this marriage is anything but a political one,” You sneered, patience gone from your body, “A truce to end bloodshed between our families, you are sorely mistaken. You have been twisted into a man I do not recognise by the ambitions and obsessions of your mother.”

Aemond’s lips pursed, “Don’t speak about my mother.”

“Why? What has she done but start this war. What has she done but push, and push, and push others to do her bidding for her. What has she done but start the pieces that fell, the pieces that led to this war.” You leant forward into the table and hissed, “Her actions took your eye, not my brother.”

Aemond’s violet eye twitched, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction at seeing his composure break.

Why were you the only one to suffer?

You opened your mouth, “You cont-“

“You betrayed me!” Aemond screamed, shooting up from his chair.

“What?” 

Betrayed?

“We were close once you and I, when we were young, and when your brother took my eye you sided with them. You sided with the one who blinded me!”

“We were all children!”

“I loved you!” 

The air left the chambers. 

The room fell still.

The both of your chests rising and falling.

A confession. 

“I loved you, and you betrayed me.” He growled, standing tall by the table.

Loved me? 

Betrayed him?

“Betrayed you?” You scoffed, “And what have you done to me, hm? You killed my brother. You killed my dragon. You have taken everything from me. You have raped me, and humiliated me, and hurt me beyond repair. I am covered in the evidence of your demented love. Any love that I held for you died when I was a child.” You spat, heart racing in your chest.

Aemond laughed mockingly, “We both know that is a lie.”

You turned away from him, huffing a laugh back at him, “You think I could love a man who has attacked me? Tormented me? Haunted my dreams for years? A man who has slain my brother? Raped me?”

Your hand flew to the table and ripped up the goblet of wine, drinking greedily from it as you slowly rose from your chair, looking your uncle up and down as he stood before you, eye crazed. 

“Once I had loved you,” You confessed, “You were sweet, and kind.” Your heart clenched, it ached to know that those days were gone.

“A boy who’s devotion to his family was strong. A boy who I could turn to when I needed. A boy who I grew beside and dreamt of our future together. I would have gladly wed you. But you’re not him. You’ve taken too much from me.”

“I have.” 

You stalked towards him, snatching a small knife from the table beside your plate as you moved in front of him, his eye never leaving your face.

“And yet you expect me to love a monster? To forgive you of all of your sins?” You walked forward until you stood before him, your chest bumping his, neck craned upwards to look in his eye.

You rose the blade to his face, the feeling of deja-vu curling around you, holding its point to his seeing violet orb as he stood still, face unreadable, looking down at you.

You let the blade rest on his cheek sharply as he still did not react. 

It made you seethe. 

Swiftly you moved the blade onto his throat pushing against it, not breaking the skin.

You watched his face as you tested him.

“You think I could ever love you?” You sneered, rising on the tips on your toes to look at him, anger fuelled by the wine and all that had happened. 

The knowledge that more was to come. 

The knowledge that you were too trapped to do anything about it.

Aemond’s hand slowly came up to touch your elbow on the arm that was poised to hold the blade against him, and pushed it harder against his throat. Tempting you. 

Encouraging you.

He held your arm steady as it began to shake, his long fingers gentle against your skin. Warmth burnt through you at his touch and you shifted your gaze to his lips, watching as his pink tongue came out to wet his lips. 

You wished to tear his lips apart with your teeth.

“I know you do.” He told you, “Though you have two eyes, you still don’t see.”

The Prince watched you intently, breath caught in your throat as you felt a familiar warmth begin to pool into your stomach, desire moving its way around your body. Desire to hurt him. Desire to be held by him. Desire to feel a touch that wasn’t pain. Desire to feel hands that did not bring you terror. 

Desire to feel loved.

Cared for.

Protected.

The need to be in control again.

To have control of your body.

You swallowed thickly, still looking at him as you leant yourself closer, blade pressing harder against his neck as you crashed your lips against his roughly. A grunt slipped through his mouth into yours, surprise catching him off guard as your other hand gripped onto his arm for purchase. 

You kissed him intently, angrily, still pushing the blade against him as his lips sought yours.

Aemond pulled back with a hiss.

The blade on his neck had slipped, a bead of blood pooling to the surface before it began to trail warmly down his neck. You watched the blood travel down the pale expanse of his skin.

You had cut him.

You had made him bleed.

And it made you feel good.

Leaning forward, you let your tongue chase the crimson stream, letting the bitter iron liquid spread across your tongue, trailing up to the source and placing a rough kiss there. Teeth nipping the skin and relishing in Aemond’s low whine.

For the first time in days, you felt powerful.

Aemond groaned beneath you, and the blade clattered to the floor. 

His hands gripped your waist and pulled you tighter to him as you nipped along his neck, teeth biting into his cut meanly. You wanted it to hurt, and as you bit and nipped at his flesh, Aemond continued to groan and whine from above.

Yet despite it all, his hands did not move any further to touch you, instead simply holding you against him.

Growing tired of his inaction you uttered to him, 'Touch me', begging for his hands on you as you continued to lap the blood on his neck, working your way back to his lips.

Your uncles hands softly held the small of your back and behind your head as he let you guide the rough embrace, your teeth biting down roughly on his lips, nipping at the cut there as you pressed your body against him, the feeling of his hardened member throbbing against your stomach. 

The memories of Aegon sprung to your mind and you paused, gasping, pulling away sharply as disgust and terror wound its way around you.

It has always been you.

Aemond pulled back searching your face with a hooded eye, small patches of blood on his swollen lips and a smudged trail of the crimson on his neck.

“Zaldrītsos,” He began to utter, his hands moving away from you, to push you back.

To give you space. 

“Don’t.” You blurted, “It hasn’t stopped you before.”

And it hadn’t.

You crashed your lips back against him.

It was over.

It was not Aegon.

It was over.

It was Aemond.

It has always been you.

It has always been Aemond.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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#aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #hotd smut #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #dark!aemond x reader #dark!aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #dark!aemond #dark!fic #fic #series #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond #smoke fire and ash

[darlingmisa]

a full fic of your previous post would be so cute!! there’s not enough out there of reader taking care of abby

Aftercare with Abby

cw... mentions of sex

wc...476

an...this took longer to write than it should've considering how short it really is but it's here <333 might do a longer in-depth fic about it eventually!!

Abby is keen on taking care of her girl, so you know she's prepared for absolutely anything and everything. Usually, she grabs a few bottles of water before the two of you even start, or will throw one in the fridge so it's ready right when you need it. She's thorough, making sure there are creams in the cabinet and ice packs in the freezer just in case you need them.

Throughout sex, Abby will check up on you, asking "Is this okay?" or "Am I hurting you?" and just making sure you're as comfortable as possible. And there is absolutely a safe word between you two, along with frequently using the red light system. In the case that you do use the safe word, she's stopping immediately, already apologizing as she helps sit you up and asks what went wrong while swearing she'll never do it again. 

Now for the full aftercare aspect. Abby knows she can be rough, and as much as you tell her you love it, she's still very apologetic after seeing some of the red marks and bruises already forming. After she's sure you're okay, she's off to start a warm bath and grab whatever creams you may need, along with water and even a small snack if she really thinks you might need it. 

She's gentle when she picks you up, carrying your now weak body to the bathroom where she'll place you gently in the tub before stripping herself and joining you. If you try to do anything yourself, Abby is quick to tell you to relax and let her do all the work. She's washing your hair and gently cleaning your body while you practically fall asleep on her chest. 

Now, on the days you're not so tired after sex, you like to take care of her instead. And Abby will absolutely protest, saying how she's fine and just wants to take care of you. Eventually, though, she'll give in. Mainly because she knows you won't give up, but also because she craves to be cared for. She'll never straight up admit it, but she loves the way you run your fingers through her hair when you wash it for her and the way your hands linger on her biceps when you take a clean wet cloth to her body. 

Something she really loves though is when you're all both cleaned up and crawl back into bed and she finally gets the chance to lay on your chest and let your heartbeat lull her to sleep. Again, she won't admit it, but she sleeps best when your arms are wrapped around her. The sound of your soft breathing makes her feel so safe, so comfortable. It gives her a moment to relax and be soft after having to be strong all day for everyone else. 

#abby the last of us #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson x fem reader #tlou abby x reader smut #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader smut #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby anderson x female reader #tlou smut #tlou abby x reader #tlou abby anderson x reader #tlou2

[perotovar]

into the beat of the night (ch 1) "transmission"

gif by me, moodboard by the lovely @sp00kymulderr ♥

pairing: frankie morales/nb!oc (they/them) rating: T (for now) chapter warnings: discussions of sexuality/gender (frankie doesn't understand some things and may use language that would be harmful, but it's not intentional), limited knowledge of the military, goth stereotypes abound, mentions of drug addiction/recovery, swearing, cute shit word count: 2.7k dividers by @saradika

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series summary: frankie morales thought he had himself figured out by now. he liked both men and women, had dated both in the past. but when someone that challenges what he thinks that means comes into his life, in an unlikely place, he truly learns who he is, and more importantly, who he loves.

series masterlist

a/n - i can't thank y'all enough for giving my fic a chance! i'm really nervous about posting it since i haven't properly written anything in years, but i've had some lovely cheerleaders (@scenaaario - who is also my lovely beta, i want to kiss you on the mouth for making this fic sound like i wanted it to ♥♥ - @undercoverpena @mrsquill and @kedsandtubesocks i love you guys ♥) along the way that gave me the motivation to post this little story. comments and reblogs are super appreciated! i'd love to hear what y'all think <3

In 1994, the U.S. adopted “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” as the official federal policy on military service by lesbian, gay and bisexual individuals. It was officially repealed in 2011. Seventeen years. For seventeen years, LGBTQ folks, Frankie included, had to hide. At least, he felt he needed to.

He knew he was bisexual when he and his childhood best friend Mateo were in their sophomore year of high school. Frankie and all the other boys started to hit puberty the year before and things were changing: facial hair was slowly growing, voices were dropping.  Mateo started to develop a little faster than Frankie did. Frankie really liked how Mateo was developing. It was a little weird, because they’d been best friends since they were still wearing underoos, but Frankie started to feel things whenever he hung out with Mateo. Things he normally only felt whenever Alana in third period flipped her hair over her shoulder, or whenever Charlotte in fifth period stretched before she started writing and her sweater pulled over her chest a little too much.

Frankie didn’t know what to do with this information or these feelings. He didn’t have a word for any of it, so he just never said anything. He had a couple girlfriends throughout high school, and to anyone who cared to think on it, would see that Frankie was like any other straight, high school boy.

In 1994, Francisco Morales joined the military. He was nineteen. It was never his plan growing up to join, but his dad always wanted him to. When he didn’t have his own plan after high school, he figured it was a safe bet since he had family in the service. While there, he worked his way up in the ranks and eventually met his brothers: Santiago, Benny, Will, and Tom. They would die for each other, had signed up to do so, in fact. He’d grown closest to Santiago, and it was the first time since he was 15 that he got those feelings again. He pushed them to the side, though, because that’s when she came into his life. He didn’t need those feelings getting in the way.

Frankie’s bisexuality really only came into his life a couple of times. His first girlfriend in the military, Layla, was also bisexual and that’s when he learned what the word was and that it also applied to him. She only ever told him since Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was in full swing. Of course he kept her secret, because she also kept his.

The only one of his group of brothers that didn’t know about his sexuality was Tom. He didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell him, and the others agreed it was best to keep it quiet. Santiago was the first one to know, then Will, and finally Benny. Ben was Ben about it when he found out. He immediately hugged Frankie and excitedly suggested they go to a gay bar instead of their usual hang out. It made Frankie laugh and Will smacked Ben on the back of the head. (They did end up going to a couple of gay bars from time to time. Frankie only went home with a guy once and the guys gave him a lot of shit for it, asking for details. Santiago gave him a smile and patted him on the back and said, “I’m glad you’re finally here, hermano.”)

Frankie had one man he’d consider a “boyfriend” in his life. After he left the military and after DADT was repealed, he went on a bit of a binge. He started hooking up with people more often, despite his introverted nature. He was always careful, safe, and eventually kept to one man for a couple years, before an especially messy breakup.  They were both pilots in the military, but were based in different states; Frankie in Florida, and Jackson in Kentucky. They bonded quickly after meeting at a nightclub in Nashville. Neither one of them remembers why they were there, but they made it a point to see each other frequently, each of them taking turns flying out to see the other.

The breakup happened after Jackson found Frankie’s stash for the last time. The military affected everyone differently. For Frankie, his coke addiction is what got him through the sleepless nights. Jackson had found Frankie one too many times leaned over the back of a toilet and snorting god knows what. Jackson had his own problems with drugs and felt that Frankie ignored them in search of his next fix. Addiction had completely taken over Frankie’s life for the better part of five years. Frankie hated Jackson for leaving him when he most needed him, and lashed out, accusing Jackson of only ever wanting to fuck. That broke Jackson, as he thought about how deeply he loved Frankie. Gay marriage was legalized a year later, and had things panned out differently, they might still be together. He doesn’t blame Jackson for leaving anymore.

Frankie’s daughter, Marisol, changed everything. She was the love of his life, and he would do anything for her. After going back to his days of sleeping around after Jackson left, he met Maya. He kept telling her that he would get clean and go to therapy while she was pregnant, but not until he held his little Marisol in his arms for the first time did he commit to both. He and Maya never planned on being together officially, and decided co-parenting would be their best option. 

He’d been clean and sober for two years by the time Santi told him about the Colombia job. He hadn’t flown, or been allowed to in that time, and was pretty content to never do so again. Every time he got in the pilot’s seat, it would take him to terrible places. But Santi was his best friend, so he took the job. He relapsed when he got home, after Tom. He never blamed Santi for it. He gave Frankie a choice, and where he could’ve said no, he didn’t.

Which brings him to where he is now, two years after Colombia. He’d crossed the street and stood in line for the entrance. He hadn’t been to this nightclub in a while. He looked up at the sign for the club, and raised an eyebrow. The Night Owl. That… isn’t what it was called last time. Was it sold? Apparently, it had recently undergone a rebranding, with new owners, and a slightly… different clientele. 

The best way he could describe it now was that it was a goth club. Frankie had never personally been to this sort of club, not really being a fan of the music or subculture, but never had a negative opinion either. He stuck out like a sore thumb when he entered, the bouncer giving him a once over and chuckling, but letting him in anyway. 

He made his way over to the bar and had a seat, taking in his surroundings and started people watching. He planned on going out tonight, and possibly go home with someone. A club is a club, so he decided to stick around and see what all the fuss was about. 

The walls shook with the heavy bass and beats of the music. It wasn’t like anything he’d heard before. His nostrils filled with the scent of clove cigarettes and hairspray. Everywhere he looked, someone completely decked out in teased hair and black clothing caught his attention. He smiled softly at all the variations in people’s style, wondering how long it took for all of them to get ready in the morning.

The bartender, a large man with heavy eye makeup and a lot of chains and spikes, came up to him and smirked. He felt a presence behind him and when Frankie finally faced forward again, he startled a little, not expecting such an imposing figure to be giving him a staredown.

“What’ll you be havin’, stripes?”

“Stripes?”

The bartender, who had a patch sewed onto his denim vest that read “Viper”, rolled his eyes and gestured vaguely to Frankie’s whole self. “You mean to tell me you’re not military?”

Frankie blinked a couple times and huffed a laugh. “Ex-military, yeah. Is that… okay?”

Viper gave him a long look, eyes slightly narrowed, and pointed to one of the many tattoos on his arm, up high on his shoulder. It was an old one, a little faded, but Frankie recognized it as the stripes given to Sergeant Majors.  “I left after this. Got injured,” he said.

“Sorry to hear that.”

Viper shrugged and reached under the bar, cleaning a glass. “I’m not. So what’re you havin’?”

Frankie thought about it for a second. “I’ll probably regret this, but surprise me.”

An amused look crossed Viper’s features, but he nodded and started mixing a drink for him. Frankie noticed all the ingredients used; lager beer, hard cider, and some kind of syrup. He raised a brow and picked up the glass as Viper slid it across the bar for him. Frankie gave him a look as if to say, ‘Is this safe?’ despite having just watched Viper make it. The bartender chuckled and just gestured for him to give it a try.

Frankie took a deep breath and gulped down a drink. A little foam was stuck to his mustache when he lowered the glass from his face. “Not bad. What is it?” Frankie asked.

“Snakebite. Kind of a staple around here,” Viper hummed, cleaning a different glass.

Frankie chuckled at the name. Of course that’s what it was called. 

Viper was pulled away when a pretty girl with big, teased hair and dark makeup came up to the bar. Frankie took the opportunity to look around the place again.

The music was best described as “dark” and “broody”, unsurprisingly, with slow tempos and even lower vocals. Everyone on the dancefloor was slowly swaying back and forth and, once in a while, would move their arms in ethereal shapes. 

Frankie remembered seeing one of the younger teachers at Marisol’s daycare wearing a t-shirt with a band logo that looked like a bundle of sticks. He tried figuring out what it said once, but was too afraid to ask, so he still doesn’t know. He doesn’t think she’d be at this kind of club.

“You’re new. Bit like a zoo your first time here, I bet.”

Frankie startled, putting his hand over his heart and turned to look at who was talking. Someone had sat next to him and was grinning, taking a sip from their own drink; something dark red and a little cloudy. He blinked a couple times and took in their features; big green eyes rimmed with dark lines, two different nose piercings, and black lipstick. Their hair was long and straight, dark, and with the right side in front of their ear shaved completely. He couldn’t quite figure out if who he was talking to was male or female, the androgyny of their look very clear.

“Uhh, hello?” They waved their hand, full of rings and black nail polish, in front of his face and chuckled quietly. “Oh! Maybe–” They cut themselves off and started making a bunch of symbols and shapes with their fingers and hands.

Frankie blinked and started laughing softly. “I’m not deaf! Sorry,” he grinned. “You just startled me, that's all.”

“Oh!” The stranger laughed, too, putting a hand on his right knee in a friendly gesture. He looked down at the hand and smiled, his heart skipping a beat. Even if he didn’t know very much about them, he couldn’t deny it; they were very pretty.

He removed his cap and ran his fingers through the unruly curls for a second before putting the hat back on. “Sorry,” he repeated, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, it’s my first time here. I didn’t realize the club had changed owners.”

“It did?” They asked, tilting their head to the left slightly. 

“Yeah, it was a– Uh, last time I was here, it was a… different kind of club,” Frankie mumbled. 

The stranger’s eyes twinkled mischievously, the smirk still present on their lips. “What kind of club? Are you secretly into some really heavy BDSM type stuff?” They wiggled their eyebrows.

Frankie had started taking a drink of his Snakebite again and nearly choked on it at the stranger’s teasing. He coughed a couple times, a wide grin on his face. “No! Nothing like that,” he chuckled.

The stranger snapped their ring-clad fingers like they were hoping he’d say otherwise and slumped their shoulders in disappointment. “Damn…”

Frankie’s cheeks warmed at the insinuation, but laughed, convinced they were just joking with him. He cleared his throat and continued, “Y-Yeah, uh, I wasn’t expecting this kind of… group, when I came by. Although, the name of the place probably should’ve warned me.”

“What kind of group?” The stranger grinned, watching his handsome features change from thoughtful to concerned.

Frankie panicked, worried he’d somehow offended them, and cleared his throat again. “N-Not that there’s anything wrong with– Um! I don’t, actually… know,” he tapered off, looking down as he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

The stranger snorted and waved him off. “I’m fucking with you,” they laughed. “I know what you mean. When I heard a new club opened up closer to my apartment, I got pretty excited. No more hour-long drives to the nearest one, y’know?”

Frankie nodded, their low, smooth voice captivating him the longer they spoke.

“Oh! Meant to say this before, but my name’s River,” they smiled and held their hand out to him to shake.

“Frankie,” he answered, holding his own hand out to return the gesture. But River beat him to it, and gripped his long, thick fingers in their own hand and kissed the back of his softly.

Frankie blushed like mad, eyes widening slightly. No one had ever kissed his hand before. He kept his eyes downcast, his hand still securely in River’s grasp.

River tilted their head, brows furrowed in concern before letting go of his hand. “Sorry, was that–?”

“No! N-No, um…” Frankie smiled shyly, tugging at a loose curl behind his ear. “It was fine– Nice, actually.”

River grinned as if they had clocked him immediately. “Well, Frankie, it was very nice meeting you. Will I see you here again?” They asked, looking him up and down.

Frankie found himself nodding before he could say or do anything else. “Y-Yeah, absolutely. Um, how–?”

“My song just came on, and I simply must dance to it. Later,” River winked, stood, and leaned over to kiss Frankie’s cheek as they slipped something into the front pocket of his flannel shirt.

River was gone before Frankie could ask anything else, his eyes following after them as they reached the dancefloor. He watched them dance for a few minutes before he was brought out of it by someone clearing their throat behind him. He spun around and saw Viper, the bartender, leaning toward him and giving him a look.

“You gonna pay for these drinks?” He grumbled, motioning toward Frankie’s Snakebite and whatever River was drinking.

He followed Viper’s tattooed finger and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his wallet out and putting a couple bills on the bar. Viper nodded in thanks and Frankie took that as his cue to leave.

As he stood, he looked toward the dancefloor again in the hopes of seeing River one last time. When he didn’t, he tried to shake himself off and made his way toward the entrance. The bouncer gave him a look and Frankie just shrugged as he exited the club. The cool night air hit his still-warm cheeks, making him feel like he came back to reality. 

“Oh, right,” he mumbled to himself and reached into his front pocket and pulled out a little scrap of paper. A phone number with two cute little devil horns drawn on either side and a little, ‘text me?’ written down beneath it.

Frankie smiled to himself and rubbed the ink on the paper with his thumb.

#frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fluff #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fluff #pedro pascal characters #oaksfics

[nyoomerr]

If you’re up to it:

Wei Wuxian getting the Xin Mo shards (from SVSSS) dropped on his head while in the Burial Mounds, and making some sort of portal artifact out of them.

I’ll leave the details up to you, though if you need more to work with: I find the idea of WangXian stumbling into the post canon SVSSS-verse, only to somehow end up mopping up some of the skipped/leftover PIDW wife-plots, to be absolutely hilarious.

mmnn admittedly i don't think i could really write non-svsss fic, but here's... something short and kinda similar (bingqiu finding wwx in the abyss, wherein the abyss == burial mounds)

---

"...Shizun, I think it's dead."

"Not yet he isn't," Shen Qingqiu corrects, poking at the boy's cheek tentatively with his fan.

"Shizun, I think it should be dead," Luo Binghe says, and Shen Qingqiu tries not to roll his eyes.

"Binghe was the one that dragged this child out of the Abyss and brought him home," Shen Qingqiu reminds him, casting Luo Binghe an unimpressed look over his shoulder.

Luo Binghe, hovering as far away from Shen Qingqiu (and the nearly dead boy) as he can seem to bear, scowls, turning his head away.

"That was before he started radiating tainted energy he picked up from the Abyss into our nice rugs," Luo Binghe mutters darkly.

Shen Qingqiu sighs, standing and turning away from the boy. The poor thing hasn't died so far; he can survive a few more minutes while Shen Qingqiu soothes his husband's ruffled feathers.

It's quite clear to Shen Qingqiu why Luo Binghe brought this half-dead boy home to begin with. Luo Binghe had gone off to investigate an Abyssal tear, expecting to find some instability or missing shard of Xin Mo or crazy monster or something, and instead found....

Well. Luo Binghe had been about this boy's age, when Shen Qingqiu had pushed him into the Endless Abyss. The boy has a cut in his chest, too; surgical and seemingly cared for and not quite in the same place that Luo Binghe had been cut by Xiu Ya, but similar enough. And from a cursory look, the boy has strong spiritual vein but no golden core - again, not quite the same as Luo Binghe's broken half-and-half cultivation that had ravaged his spiritual pathways on the edge of the Abyss, but...

Everything altogether, the boy really does remind Shen Qingqiu of the suffering Luo Binghe faced, all those decades ago. Shen Qingqiu is sure that he reminds Luo Binghe just the same.

He's sure that Luo Binghe had not been able to turn his back on this boy, thinking about how desperately Luo Binghe had wanted someone to come save him from the Abyss.

"Binghe," Shen Qingqiu calls softly. "What do you want to do?"

"Put him back where I found him," Luo Binghe grouches.

Shen Qingqiu tries not to look too amused.

"If I promise to not go near him without you," Shen Qingqiu clarifies, watching the way Luo Binghe's expression flickers, "what do you want to do?"

Luo Binghe falls silent, his expression dark. Shen Qingqiu isn't sure he quite hit the nail on the head, but he got close enough: Luo Binghe may feel pity towards a boy that reminds him of his past self, but Luo Binghe is just as equally wary of anyone that would be so similar to the half-feral demon that Luo Binghe had to become in order to survive the Abyss.

Luo Binghe didn't want Shen Qingqiu to be around him when he was fresh from the Abyss, instead choosing to only show himself to Shen Qingqiu after he'd begun establishing himself as a respected cultivator at Huan Hua. It's quite clear to Shen Qingqiu that Luo Binghe wouldn't want Shen Qingqiu around this boy, either.

"Shizun would be sad if he died," Luo Binghe eventually says, looking away.

"Mm," Shen Qingqiu agrees.

"And he should at least stay long enough he can scrub the floors he's dirtied," Luo Binghe continues.

"Of course," Shen Qingqiu says, as if he doesn't know full well that Luo Binghe won't be satisfied unless he himself is the one to clean the floors that Shen Qingqiu walks on.

"...I suppose he can stay for a small time, if it pleases Shizun," Luo Binghe sighs.

Shen Qingqiu smiles at Luo Binghe, and then turns back to the half-dead boy and begins working on making him less dead.

Inwardly, Shen Qingqiu feels a bit of glee. It's been several long years since Luo Binghe let Shen Qingqiu adopt another wayward stray, after all!

#ty for the prompt even if i didnt quite fulfill it the way you intended 🙈 #svsss #scum villian self saving system #fic drabble

[atthebell]

atthebell qsmp fics masterpost

la crianza: Drabbles/character studies on QSMP & egg parenthood. Complete, oneshot.

confiança: Forever reassures Cellbit that despite the Federation pulling the wool over his eyes, he'll figure it all out in the end. Soft late night insaneduo! Complete, oneshot.

not quite but we're almost there: Roier decides to give Cellbit a much-needed distraction, in the form of theft and flirtation, and they go on what is definitely not a date. Not yet. Complete, oneshot.

promise me you'll try: Roier hasn’t been sleeping, worry and fatigue etched into the lines of his face. Cellbit is running himself ragged trying to find any information. They talk about it. Complete, oneshot.

take a breath: insaneduo fluff, werewolf forever. Complete, oneshot.

so bad all my bones shake: spiderbit host a halloween party! Complete, oneshot.

lovely maze you've got there. would be a pleasure to be chased through it: cellbit chases pac around the halloween maze and then they make out. Complete, oneshot.

won't you lover chase me down: cellbit enjoys the way roier goes after him during purgatory-- the way he focuses on spilling his husband's blood, delights in the violence. he also enjoys spilling blood alongside him. Complete, twoshot.

sitting here won't make this any easier: insaneduo post-happy pills arc talk about guilt. Complete, oneshot.

if it's your hands: spiderbit sickfic-- roier cooks for cellbit when he gets sick. Complete, oneshot, may post more chapters eventually.

like a lighthouse always waiting: roier juggles hope and despair post-purgatory and reunites with cellbit. Complete, oneshot.

back to the hedgerows: cellbit tells roier about the murder spree and roier is in, of course, full support. Complete, oneshot.

now you surround me: vampire roier & sleepy cat hybrid cellbit! Complete, oneshot.

put to mind of all that i wanna be: spiderbit dancing, short and sweet! Complete, oneshot.

flew like a moth to you: spiderbit hybrids & cuddling. Complete, oneshot.

the reason is you: spiderbit wedding fluff! Complete, oneshot.

true love waits: another spiderbit reunion fic! roier centric again. Complete, oneshot.

so much of the living: spiderbit + richas cuddling fluff. Complete, oneshot.

#bell.txt #bell fics #there's something wrong with this island

[cyxnidx]

Hello! Can I request part 2 of “What’re you reading?” But with Scaramouche (Wanderer), Heizou, and Albedo?

WHAT’RE YOU READING ? V. 2

sure thing luv <3

part 1 here

characters: Scaramouche, Heizou, Albedo and Tartaglia

summary: they finding you reading/writing smut

a/n: i decided to add tartaglia for this one! hope you dont mind

scara was the curious type, especially with you. so when he felt bored, and decided to see what you were doing only to find you reading, he couldn’t help but be tempted to see it.

“can i see?” he asked timidly, reaching for the book slowly. you couldn’t help but let him take a look, watching as he admired the cover and back.

though, your heart rate when from a calm pace to a panicky one as you watched him open the book, slowly admiring the drawings and speech bubbles.

and just as you tried to take the book, he landed on one of the more mature scenes. you sighed like a disappointed mother as his eyes widened, hands eventually dropping the book out of pure shock.

“at no point in time should i have seen that..” he said, now stunned at the hardcore graphics.

“give it back, heizou!” you scolded, face puckered and annoyed. your boyfriend had taken your phone while you were on ao3, and to say the least, you were more annoyed than you usually would be.

it was your favorite fic, and one of your favorite scenes was coming up. that was until your eyes were too full of anticipation and excitement for heizou’s liking, tempting him to take it.

“what’s so important on it anyway?” he asked, still clueless of the mess he’s gotten himself into already. you sighed, not wanting to tell. “just give it back, and make it easier on yourself.”

“easier?” he asked, somewhat offended by the use of the word. were you looking down on him? “why would you think i’d want to make it easier on myself? do you think there’s something i cant handle here?”

smirking, you shrugged. “maybe. i mean, it may be new as to be a bit hard to comprehend.”

you laughed as you watched him look at your phone, reading the many words that made up such interesting paragraphs, only to give it back in a shock.

“that. i never thought it’d be that.”

albedo had seen it all at this point. from point A, to point Z. though, as much as he had heard, and even watched, he’d never thought that he’d read such descriptive words. Words that made everything seem to realistic.

and with his vivid imagination? oh, it was a field day.

“you see what happens when you use my stuff, albedo?” you asked, hand on your hip and face having a smart look to it.

a particular snarky look he seemed to hate. a cocky expression.

though, there wasn’t much he could do with how shocked he was. he was absolutely stunned. “this is what you read..” he said, almost seeming scarily surprised.

“oh? but i thought you’ve seen it all?” you asked in an unimpressed tone, only to be caught off-guard with his next question. “can we try it?”

“so? what do you think?” you asked expectantly as you watched Tartaglia’s eyes read the words you’ve written for a post.

you frequently wrote online, and he had no problem with it at all. if anything, he loved that it was how you expressed your creativity, emotions and just random thoughts.

he found it beautiful.

however, out of all the things he’d usually proof-read for you, this was the first one he’d consider extreme.

“Tartaglia..?” you asked again, taking into account that he’d went quiet. he should be done reading by now, it wasn’t like it was a lot. just about 3 paragraphs.

“you’d like to know what i thought of it, yes?” he asked, checking for assurance.

you nodded eagerly, wanting to hear his opinion on it or if you’ve made any mistakes describing something.

“honestly..” he began, turning your phone off and placing it on the bedside table. “..how about we test it out first?”

happy thanksgiving to those who celebrate🫶🏼

#cyxnidx #genshin impact #smut #ask #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #genshin impact smut #heizou smut #heizou being heizou #albedo #shikanoin heizou #heizou my beloved #heizou x y/n #scaramouche x reader #the wanderer #the balladeer #the tsaritsa #genshin impact tsaritsa #tartaglia #childe x reader #childe #ajax tartaglia #ajax #ajax x y/n #ajax x reader #happy thanksgiving #thanksgiving post #my phone was on low battery making this #lol #genshin impact fandom

[winterdadandspiderson]

WINTERDAD AU #1

(part one because this got way too long. this is essentially the plot of an old fic i started back in 2020 and what would've happened of i'd continued it. i might try and write it again one day, perhaps, if i don't give up after 2 chapters. anyway here we go)

- mary parker was a shield agent when she met the winter soldier, both were on a mission. they fought, but never got as far as mortally wounding each other. mary would always slip away. it was like a game. bucky had been kept out the ice for a few weeks at that point, running a long job. but the longer he's out, the more he starts to remember little pieces, who he used to be.

- mary feels pity for him, seeing through the stone cold image hydra forged for him, to the person within. they fight. but then they also talk. they keep seeing each other while bucky scouts. eventually one thing leads to another and they develop a relationship of sorts. 

- mary later discovers she's pregnant but bucky never finds out. he's taken back, wiped and put under the ice once more. mary quits her job at shield so she can provide for her kid and keep them safe. knowing full well if anyone in shield or hydra caught wind that she was carrying the winter soldiers child, they'd never be safe.

- she's sad that bucky disappeared again, she knows hydra likely had him wiped and iced again. but she moves on, meeting richard soon after who she tells she's expecting a son, that the father disappeared without a word (technically not a lie) he tells her he'll love him like he's his regardless.

- when her son is born she names him peter james parker (during the few weeks they met, the last time they talked, bucky ended up remembering his first name, mary wanted peter to have at least a piece of him)

- peter ends up looking a LOT like bucky. he has the same shade of dark brown hair, facial structure which shows as he grows. but he has mary's eyes)

- the plane crash was really just an unfortunate incident. peter still goes to live with aunt may and uncle ben when he's seven. and then things go as they usually do in canon. the avengers form, yada yada all that stuff, you know the drill.

- when he's 14 peter is bitten by the radioactive spider. BUT. an important detail here is that due to the expiermentation bucky was subjected to by hydra and the enhancements which altered his genes, some of that, though remaining dormant, passed onto peter. but it didn't really do anything, it was just there. but it did keep him alive after the spider bite. without those enhancements in his blood peter would've died. instead, he gained his powers.

- uncle ben still gets shot, which as usual influences peter to become spider-man. and months after tony still comes along and recruits him to fight in germany. peter does.

- when he briefly faces bucky ("you have a metal arm? that is AWESOME, dude!") neither know so that also goes as normal. bucky is bewhildered by the kid who managed to block a hit with so much force behind it, while also shocked to know that he was just that, a kid.

- now one vastly different thing here is that while the avengers do split for a good year, steve and tony eventually talk and make amends. the avengers reassemble, deciding that they need to put the world before their feud. they're not on super good terms, but they tolerate each other. tony still refuses to forgive bucky.

- homecoming happens during the time where things are still rocky between the avengers so peter still deals with vulture alone. but he does see tony more often, stopping by for lab days to work on his suit among other things, to keep up the "internship" charade. tony grows fond of him, though he doesn't admit it.

its post homecoming where things start to go wrong.

#i wanted to keep mary as peter's mom because in a lot of the few winterdad fics i've read #his mom is always nat for some reason ??? so yeah. mary parker is still his mom. richard isn't his step dad he's the dad that stepped up #part two will probably be done by tomorrow! lmk what you think so far i'd love to hear your thoughts :)) #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #bucky barnes #peter parker #mary parker #winter soldier #the avengers #winterdad #spiderson #marvel au #mcu au #the winterdad au #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #oh also keeping the irondad dynamic in there because it adds to the conflict and plot <3

[fandomestloser]

for the writer asks! 1, 4 and 11!

thank you alexxxx

What led you to start writing fanfiction?

Well. Glad. You. Asked. I was a baby directioner when I was like eleven, left it for ages, and then became a full-blown directioner at the start of 2022. I started making video edits around May 2022, and that turned into every creative form possible within fandom. Which meant a brief fanart phase, video edits, song mashups, and eventually, fanfiction. that expanded to my other fandoms, and here we are now!

4. What themes/concepts in the canon do you most enjoy exploring in your fan works?

Seeing as I write for three fandoms, I suppose this has a few answers. As far as 1D goes, the mistreatment and mental side of the band and the individual impact it had on all of them is definitely where I head. A lot of my one-shots are about the closeting, liam's alcoholism, harry's self-harm, zayn's ED, etc.

For RWRB fics I tend to lean into the closeting again. Being an out-and-proud queer person, I think this kind of thing just resonates with me in a really harsh, sad way and I honestly think I'm a better writer for it.

And in the Hamilton fandom, I don't really know. The mental complexity of Lams (being queer in that time, mostly) tends to be where my mind heads, but I haven't written all that much so just stay posted!

11. What attracted you to the fandoms/media you write in?

Well. My older sister was a directioner in their peak, she saw them live in 2012, and has since seen Harry once (Love On Tour 2022), Louis once (Walls tour), Niall once (Flicker World Tour) and is a thorough Harrie these days. I guess it was a birthright, almost, growing up with someone like that. From when I was a kid it was one direction, when i got a bit older that turned into solo music, and now i can appreciate it for myself.

I am a theatre kid, so it's natural that i entered a hamilton phase when it came out on disney+. alex rekindled that, which turned into a little dabbling in that side of fanfiction.

and rwrb just... came naturally, i guess, as a gay kid starved of decent gay media. so.

thank you so much for the ask, alex! xx.

#ask #writer #writer asks #1d #rwrb #hamilton #alex ml

[kai-anderson-whore]

Hi. I would love a Quicksilver x Plus-Size reader fic where he is super sweet and loving about my weight. Might also be fun to end in smut. Thanks ❤️

I absolutely loved this and this made me melt as a fellow plus sized girlie hope you enjoy ☺️

All of you (quicksilver x plus size reader smut)

Summary: you were hearing others in the school whispering about how you and Peter were even together, and when you both were alone you spoke to him about it and he shows you how much he loves you.

Warnings: fluff and smut, others talking about reader, feeling insecure about weight, crying, oral (reader receiving), body worshiping?.

Word count: 1,6k

A/n: I’m almost finished with the first kinktober fic I may post it early but I’m still not sure if I like it

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

You were heading to class, notebooks tucked under your arm. Your mind raced seeing eyes on you people whispering. Maybe it was in your head you didn't know. You felt anxious whenever you had to walk the hallways of the school for mutants you felt like the outcast.

All of a sudden you felt a gush of wind rushing past you making you stop dead in your tracks almost stumbling over. You saw your boyfriend Peter in front of you with his usual cheery smile that light up any room. "Hey babe" he says his hands on your shoulders to keep you from falling.

"Hey Peter" you smiled feeling a 100% better than before. He always made you smile with just being close to you, "I was thinking maybe tonight you can come to my date and have a movie date night?" He offered with a cheeky grin. You bit your lip, faint blush on your cheeks nodding your head. "Yeah I'd like that a lot" you agreed. "Great I'll see you there after class" was the last thing he said before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek speeding off to class.

Just as Peter left you to go to class, you heard others around you whispering "how can he be with her", "I don't understand it what would someone as good looking as him want with someone like her?" Another said. The tears brimming your eyes you sucked it up and continued to head to class.

After class you made your way to peters dorm. Your mind raced at all those comments you overheard. 'Maybe they're right', 'maybe I'm not good enough for Peter' all the thoughts raced through your head. You were in a world of your own you didn't realise that Peter was again in front of you.

"Y/n hello?" Peter tried to snap you out of your thoughts. "Huh?" You shook yourself out of your thoughts. Feeling a pang in your heart seeing peter smile at you with loving eyes. "I said you ready to go inside" he said again raising an eyebrow at you. "Yeah let's go" you managed to muster up a smile.

You both entered the room you placed your belongings on a chair in the corner like usual. Peter took his infamous jacket and goggles off and throw them somewhere in the room. You sat on the bed once again in a world of your own, miles away.

Peter was rummaging through his video tapes calling out the names for you to pick. But when you didn't respond Peter turned to you seeing that you were staring at the wall with teary eyes. "Hey - hey what's wrong" Peter was quick enough to rush to you kneeling down in-front of you.

You looked into his deep brown eyes full of worry and concern, you just burst into more tears. Peter wrapped his arms around you letting you cry it all out, taking your time to gather yourself before speaking. Peter just held you in his arms whispering sweet things in your ear soothing you.

Eventually you calmed down slightly, enough to tell Peter what was going on. "You wanna talk about it?" He asked wiping the droplets of tears off your cheeks. With a heavy sigh and a sniffle of your nose you opened your mouth it speak. "It's just I hear people talk about us, like 'how can he be with her she's too fat' or 'what does he see in her' and I can't help but wonder the same peter I deserve someone more thinner and attractive than me" you felt those tears threatening to fall again.

"Y/n never mind what everyone thinks they're just jealous because you're beautiful inside and out, and I love you more than anything in this whole world no one can ever change that" peters heart broke hearing you say such things about yourself.

"I'm not Peter look at me why would you even bat an eye at me never mind date me" you were a sobbing mess again.

"You wanna know what I see?" Peter stood up observing you in your state. You nodded your head at him, you couldn't wrap your head around it you loved Peter with every breath and bone in your body but you didn't know why he felt the same.

"I don't see weight, I don't care about that not one bit. What I do see is a beautiful, intelligent, funny, loving, caring woman who goes out her way just to make people happy, and I'm proud to call her my girlfriend" you couldn't help but smile at his loving words.

"Doesn't matter what everyone thinks, they're going to say what they say but to me I don't care about them all I care about is you and as long as you know that I love every curve on your body, everything you hate about yourself I love, I love you for the person you are that's all that should matter" he finished his speech you nodded your head agreeing "I just love you so much Peter" your weak voice spoke.

"I love you too" the speedster smiled before pressing his lips on yours. The kiss was soft and full of love like he was trying to tell you more than his words did. In that moment you knew there was no more worries, you weren't going to let people get to you as long as you have peter that's all that matters.

The kiss quickly became heated Peter pushed your body to lay on the bed with him slotting himself between your legs. You let out a soft sigh which he swallowed his hands on your hip, tongues dancing with each other. Peter pulled away you furrowed your brows "what are you doing?" You asked.

"Showing you just how much I love you" he replied kissing your neck, craning your head to give him better access. A soft moan left your lips feeling yourself grow wetter by the second. His hands all over you caressing each curve his fingertips touched. You felt the heat raising within you "Peter please" you whimpered desperately for more.

Usually peter would tease the life out of you till you were begging pathetically for him. But in this moment of time he gave in to you. He began removing your top, you were a bit reluctant to let him. "It's okay you don't have to hide from me y/n" he says his darker, loving eyes. You eventually nodded giving the silver haired boy permission to remove your top.

Peeling the fabric off your frame discarding it on the floor. "Your so beautiful" he sighed not taking his eyes off your body. You blushed at his compliment, opening your mouth to say something only for Peter to make you let out a soft sigh as his lips connected with your chest.

His lips trailed down the valley of your breasts making sure to leave tiny little red marks as a reminder of how much he loves you. You sat up a bit only to unclasp your bra throwing it down on the floor, giving Peter more access to you. Peter didn't hesitate to attach his now slightly plumped lips on your breasts, giving some love to your hardened buds. You moaned as his tongue swirled around your nipple. Taking the left bud between his fingers, caressing the flesh.

The silver hair boy payed so much attention to your right breast, before switching to the left breast giving it the same amount of love. "Your so beautiful" he whispered against your skin. His lips then traveled lower down your body. You wriggled under his touch, your body responding to each touch of peters lips.

His fingers hooked the waistband of your trousers, looking up at you for permission, which you granted with a nod. Slowly peeling your trousers and panties discarding them on the floor.

Peters hands held your thighs gently giving them a squeeze, his lips trailed from your calves to your thighs, your were growing impatient once again, your body was hot to the touch almost with desire.  "Please Peter" you moaned out as his lips inched dangerously close to where you needed him most. "So perfect and all mine" Peter's lustrous voice was making grow wetter by the second.

A gasp left your lips, the pad of peters finger teased your clit circling it in dangerously slow motion. "I'm all yours peter" you moaned as he licked a strip along your folds tasting your arousal. Bringing his tongue to your clit sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Oh fuck" you moaned as he lapped up your pussy with his skilful tongue much slower than he usually does, taking his sweet time. You propped yourself up on your elbows looking down at the silver haired boy. His eyes watched your every expression of pleasure he was giving you.

Your moans got louder like music to peters ears. He left open kisses upon your clit then back to running his tongue flat along your dripping heat. “I’m so close” you panted out, your hips unconsciously grinding against his face, your hands on his head keeping him in place. “Cum for me baby” he coaxed still lapping you up.

It didn’t take long for your orgasm to wash over you. Releasing your juices all over peters face. Peter hummed in delight cleaning you up, your legs slightly shaking with over stimulation. Peter pulled away licking his lips, his eyes dark and lustful. “Wow that was-“ you struggled to get the words out sitting up from your laid position.

“Oh I’m not done with you yet” Peter growled pulling you back down from the backs of your thighs.

#evan peters #quicksilver #xmen #american horror story #james patrick march #tate langdon #kai anderson #kit walker #evan peters x reader #ahs asylum #jimmy darling #kyle spencer #austin sommers #evan peters imagine #evan peters requests #evan peters smut #evan peters x you #evan peters fluff #evan peters fanfic #evan peters x y/n #quicksilver x reader

[unscrupulousartist]

I posted these individually alongside the sections of fanfic they go with, just 'cause I wanted to be posting stuff. But here's them all together as well.

And here's links to all the previous posts:

#hellerby #lackadaisy #lackadaisy fan comic #lackadaisy fanart #anthrocats #mordecai heller #rocky rickaby

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Blood, gore, major character deaths.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Oh my god.... Everything is happening ARGH! I'm actually going to try and post updates daily now for this, bar Sunday for the next Sublet chapter. I am just so excited to finish this series! Hahaha, anyway, I've loved seeing all your reactions and theories!! <3

Chapter 102: Envoys to Dragonstone 

When you had returned to your chambers, it was a blur of movements and thoughts, but one in particular seemed to absorb all the rest. Its dark tendrils wrapped around the others, pulling them into the dark with it, thus making its size almost immeasurable until all other thoughts were devoured by it, gone from the light, and all that was left was it. 

War was coming.

With shaky hands you grasped a piece of parchment and sat at the table. With the ink pot and quill, you rolled the parchment flat beneath your palm and began to write. 

You wrote as though your life depended on it. 

Because it did. 

And with each swift flick of your script, a blaring word in particular seemed to have broken loose from the feeling of hopelessness. A word which had been whispered and cried. Spoken and sneered. A word that had fuelled your hope, and created your despair. A word that you knew, now more than ever, was a need to act. 

Dracarys. 

And so you wrote until the page was full, and tears leaked from your eyes at knowing what was to come next. 

Loss. 

‘Mother and Father, 

To write to you under the present circumstances does little to steady my beating heart, but it is something that I know will ensure that it keeps doing just that. Beating. 

Aegon is dead. Slain at the hands of Aemond. 

And now he is King. And I, Queen.

The treaty is lost, and at the risk of another war coming to take us all, I must beg you, bend the knee.

Bend the knee to Aemond. 

If you swear him as King, he has said that he will allow you to live on Dragonstone and carry out your days there safely and happily. 

If you do not bend the knee, war will break, and I will not survive it.

You will not survive it. 

None of us will. 

My only consolation is that if you do, we shall all live, and that I will be able to see you again soon.

I suspect I am with child, Aemond’s child. And if the promise of your own flesh and blood upon the throne does not satiate your need to rule, then know I hold no grievances towards you. It is your birthright, just as it is mine.

If you do not bend the knee, you must send star fruit to the Keep so that I know of your decision, and may feel its sweet nectar upon my tongue once more before war breaks out. It is the only way I will survive this all, and it is the only way that I will know that you do not hate me for asking you of this. 

It was not my wish to depose my mother of the throne, nor my father, or my dearest brother Jacaerys. I beg for your forgiveness. I shall go to the Godswood and pray that you will forgive such an offence, and pray that the Gods will forgive my sins too.

Until then, I wait to hear of your acquiesce to Aemond and I's rule, or the delivery of star fruit to the keep in barrels full. 

Yours forever,

Queen Y/n.’

Tears slipped past your eyes, and you had not even heard Aemond enter the chambers, nor sense him standing behind you as he read your letter. It was only until he touched a lock of your hair at the back of your head did you know that he was there. 

“Are you ready?” He asked softly, cool patience in his tone.

You turned your head to look up at him.

Were you ready?

Would you ever be ready for what was to come?

If your parents bent the knee, that meant you would rule as Queen, like you had always wanted, and at the side of Aemond. 

But if they didn’t?

No.

They would come. 

Just as you asked.

More tears fell, and Aemond swiped them away gently with his thumb, “Issa iā qopsa geralbar bona ilagon gō īlva.  Yn nyke gīmigon bona hēnkirī, hae mēre, kosti.” It is a difficult road that lays before us. But I know that together, as one, we can.

“Iksan nāpāsagon ñuha lentor.” I am betraying my family, You sniffed, another tear trailing down your cheek hotly.

Aemond frowned sadly at you, helping you to stand.

“Iksis ziry drēje?” Is it true? He asked quietly, “Issi ao lēda riña?” Are you with child?

You knew in your bones that you were.

Although there were not many symptoms but the inklings of sore breasts, you just knew. You knew instinctually that it was true. That the Gods had given you and Aemond another chance of being parents, and you would not lose that opportunity again.

You nodded, another tear rolling down your cheek, one of sorrow and joy.

Aemond bent his head down to kiss you gently, lips brushing against your own in reverence, but his hands upon your face showed the true excitement that he held back. They were firm, and tight, and almost tingled against your skin. 

“I am scared.” You breathed.

“I will keep you and my child safe.” Aemond looked you in the eye, sincerity on his face, a hand coming to press gently at your stomach.

You smiled sadly at him, “Not if war breaks.”

“Even then. I will not lose you, or our child. You are the most precious thing in the world to me, my one and only love. Not even the Gods could take you from me.” He promised.

Your heart soared as you nodded up at him, rising on your tiptoes to capture his lips once more. He whispered an apology against your lips, and you couldn’t help the small sob that escaped.

“Please do not make me choose.” You whispered, hands holding the sides of his face, stubble brushing against the scar of your palm, the reminder of your union and love always there.

“You have already made your choice. Now they must make theirs.”

Aemond left you in the chambers alone to deliver your letter to Otto Hightower and Ser Criston Cole, who readied themselves to leave by ship that very evening. They would arrive to Dragonstone by morning. 

And you would get your answer from the skies.

DRAGONSTONE POV

The morning broke the same way that it had before.

The sun rose above the waters surrounding Dragonstone, and cast the volcanic island in a glow of golden light. There was a light breeze that morning as the maids had opened the windows and balcony doors to Queen Rhaenyra and King Daemon’s quarters. 

They had been dressed and readied, and broke their fast together. Little Viserys and Aegon the Younger tottered around their chambers, playing with tiny toy dragons that had been carved from wood. 

The couple eventually made their way down to the study, Rhaenyra having gotten word from the men at the Red Fork that a certain war dragon had been spotted in the skies, and not seen to have left until almost a dozen days later.

As Rhaenyra shifted the letters at the large desk and Daemon sat lazily before the fir with one leg crossed over the other as Little Viserys sat on his knee, stories being whispered into the young boys ear as Aegon the younger sat on the floor playing with his toys, the door to the chambers were rapt by knuckles thrice in quick succession. 

“Come.” Rhaenyra beckoned, and watched as the doors were opened swiftly by a Ser Erryk Cargyll.

The twin gave a short nod in greeting before apologising for his intrusion, “Your, Grace, there is a ship, just west of Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra stiffened in her chair, and Daemon snapped his head to the man, quietening his whispers.

“It flies the banner of your brother.”

Rhaenyra stood from her seat slowly, Daemon going her with his son in his arms, the boy nestled against his side.

There had not been a ship to Dragonstone since the day Otto had come to watch her daughter be wed to her half-brother.

“Notify the council, have them be ready.” Rhaenyra commanded, and Ser Erryk bowed his head, leaving the chambers at once. 

Rhaenyra and Daemon stared at each other, Viserys fussing in Daemon’s arms, sensing the tension that mounted in the room like a storm.

“Do you think it’s a trap?” Daemon breathed heavily, smoothing hair away from his sons head as two of Rhaenyra’s maids entered the chambers.

Daemon kissed the top of the boys forehead before handing him to one of the girls, the other scooping Aegon the Younger into her arms before exiting the chambers. 

Rhaenyra moved around the desk, coming to stand in front of Daemon, “I believe we should be ready for it.”

By the time the two entered the Chambers of the Painted Table, the Small Council of Queen Rhaenyra were already standing around it in wait. Jacaerys stood off to the side, his Lady Wife, Baela beside him. 

Lord Corlys stood to the side of Baela with Princess Rhaenys and their other granddaughter Rhaena, all who wore black and red, with hints of blue, as was their new and old House colours. 

All other Lords and Maester’s stood at the other end. 

“When should they arrive to shore?” Rhaenyra asked, forgoing a greeting as she walked swiftly to the head of the table with her husband.

“Within the hour, Your Grace.” Came the response of Maester Gerardys.

Rhaenyra nodded, looking amongst the table before she jumped into action. 

“We need to be ready for whatever my brother Aegon has planned. Patrol the skies and the sea. Have men at the ready for anything.”

Jacaerys stepped forward, “I shall ride Vermax.”

Rhaenyra nodded, though her heart raced in her chest.

The last time she had allowed her children to take to the skies, only one came back.

“I’ll take Moondancer, Your Grace.” Princess Baela declared.

Rhaenyra gave the girl a small smile, “Good.” She turned to face Rhaenys, “Take Meleys to the sky. If Aegon or Aemond are to come on the backs of their dragons, we will need numbers and you are one of our best.”

Daemon was the next to speak, “I shall take Caraxes-”

“-No.” Rhaenyra argued, “You will stay with me. I need you at my side.” Turning to Lord Corlys, she requested the presence of his ships, “Have four of your ships ready at port.”

The older man nodded, moving swiftly out of the chambers to command them.

“You said there was only one ship?” Rhaenyra questioned the Maester.

“Yes, Your Grace. Only one has been spotted.”

The crown weighed heavily atop the Queens head in that moment, the first time she had ever truly felt the weight of it.

At first when Daemon had crowned her, it was foreign, but with time, she grew to not notice its presence, as though it was another set of braids atop her head. But now, she felt the heavy weight of it all, pressing down on her skull, hyperaware that she had a duty, and it was about to be tested.

Once the ships had been pulled to the docks, and her dragon riders had taken to the skies, Queen Rhaenyra and her King Consort, Daemon Targaryen, moved with the Queens Guard down to the meeting point of the path where they had stood before. 

When greeted with Aegon’s terms. 

And then later with the return of their daughter.

But this time, they waited and watched as the heads and banners of the Green three headed dragon came towards them, and they did not once sense that they would be reunited with their daughter once more. Instead, Ser Otto Hightower was flanked by Ser Criston Cole and members of her brothers Kings Guard.

Above them, three dragons flew in circles, watching from above. 

Waiting. 

Ready.

Ser Otto Hightower, in all his lithe glory, came to a stop before Queen Rhaenyra, looking all the more like a weevil that had crawled into a farmers grain.

For he was a pest that had wormed its way into her fathers life, and become the driving force of the usurpation of the throne, her daughter and sons deaths, and the removal of her surviving daughter to her half-brother.

Ser Otto was a man that Rhaenyra as a child had hoped and prayed that her father would have seen through. That Viserys could have seen the man before him was a mask, a shell, and hid his true intentions behind duty and tradition. But Viserys had been blinded by the wolf in sheep's clothing, and Otto’s lies had been strengthened by Daemon’s love for her.

Viserys never did get to see the ruin that his inaction would become.

Daemon, the once Rogue Prince, stood at his wife’s side diligently, as he had promised to do, large palms resting upon the two swords that flanked him, one being the Dark Sister blade. He struggled to not sneer at the man who had taken everything from him.

Taken his daughter from him. His brother.

“We come as envoys.” Otto began, Ser Cole staring at Daemon, his own hand atop the hilt of his sword.

Daemon had not forgotten Cole's place in all this either.

Crispin Cole.

Rhaenyra looked down at the men from her nose. Despite being shorter than them, she stood uphill, and gave the illusion that she was above them.

And she was.

Where she was Queen, they were mere Ser’s.

“King Aemond the First-“

“-Aemond?” Rhaenyra interrupted sharply, worry coursing through her chest, “Did my brother Aegon drink himself to death in his cups?”

Otto reached into his coat pocket, the Queen’s Guard shifting as they watched his movement carefully. Long fingers pulled apart his lapel and dove into the inner pocket, grasping the rolled parchment from their daughter.

Daemon shifted atop the balls of his feet.

Lord Hightower held out the scrolled parchment, green insignia stamped into its papery surface with wax, “A letter from the Queen.” 

“Queen?” Daemon snipped, looking at the parchment. 

Ser Erryk stepped forward to grasp the letter, armour shuffling as his eyes darted to his twin, Arryk Cargyll, who stood behind Otto Hightower.

It was a sad day for either twin, seeing their other half on different sides of a silent war. Their eyes met, if only briefly, all hurt and betrayal, before Erryk took the scroll and delivered it to Rhaenyra.

“King Aegon is dead. And in the line of succession, Aemond has taken his place.”

“What about his remaining son?” Daemon questioned, looking at the scroll briefly before back at Otto.

Otto held his hands behind his back, “Maelor is too young to rule at such a time, and Aemond has taken the Iron Throne.”

Ser Erryk held out the parchment for his Queen to take, which she took whilst keeping her eyes upon Otto, much like her husband, who continued to talk. 

“Bend the knee to the King, swear your fealty to him and he shall allow you to remain here as the Lady of Dragonstone, whereafter your son Jacaerys the Lord of Dragonstone, and Joffrey Lord of Driftmark. The Queen has agreed to send word to you now that the treaty has ended with Aegon’s passing.”

Rhaenyra hastily unrolled the parchment, ripping the green wax insignia of the three headed dragon off the paper, the wax crumbling onto the stone below. Violet eyes roved over her daughters script whilst Daemon read over the top of her shoulder. 

The Queen felt a tide of rage.

“I will not bend the knee to a usurper and kinslayer who is not even second in the line of succession. He has no right to the throne.” She hissed at the Hightower Lord, “Where is the Princess?”

“She is Queen Consort now, and shall live her days with the King in peace and safety. Your blood sits upon the Iron Throne, Rhaenyra, something that should satiate your desire for war. Bend the knee to Aemond, blood not be needlessly spilt again.”

Otto spoke like an old man telling his daughter or wife to buy something from the market that was not needed, and not at all like a man who was preventing a war.

Daemon quietly seethed beside his wife, looking at Otto, and having read two words that gave him the permission he so desperately sought. Daemon shifted, hand pulling the Dark Sister blade from her sheath and stormed forward.

“Fuck this.” Daemon sneered.

Ser Cole stepped toward him, and from above a dragon screeched.

It was a blur of guards, and the sound of men and their blades being unsheathed filling the air.

Ser Erryk Cargyll stepped to the side of Daemon, if not slightly more forward, blocking the blow of Ser Cole’s blade as Daemon moved towards Otto, whose eyes were wide in shock. Queen and King’s Guards met in the middle, a blur of bodies as Rhaenyra stood firmly, planted as she were.

Watching. 

With a swing of the Dark Sister blade, Daemon sliced through Ser Otto Hightower’s shoulder, the blade cutting through flesh and bone as though it was butter, carving down to the middle of his chest.

Blood sprayed from his wound, and the older man cried out into the air, the beating wings of dragons loud above them.

As the King Consort pulled his blade from the Hightower Lord, who stumbled backwards on shaky legs, Daemon swung the Dark Sister blade into the air once more, connecting with his neck.

His body landed on the floor before his head did, which rolled downwards into the chaos of the guards and knights who fought, mouth open and eyes wide.

Ser Erryk blocked another swipe of Criston’s blade, who came at him harder and faster, anger and desperation in his eyes. Ser Arryk, his twin, steadily approached the two as he battled through the sea of fighting.

A few of Aemond’s men had turned back, running down the path to try to get back to their ship, to send word to the King, but a large shadow loomed above them, and with a cry, Baela screamed out her deathly command for the very first time.

“Dracarys!”

Moondancer, a slender and pale green dragon with pearl like horns, opened her jaws and a plume of fire was cast over the Green deserters. The flames devoured the men entirely, who screamed in agony, trying to outrun their burning flesh, before dropping to the floor below, silent and stiff.

Baela, to prevent any more attempting to escape, landed against the path, the large claws of her dragon digging into the stone sides, much like how Rhaenyra had, many moons ago.

Moondancer screeched, head down and long at the backs of Aemond’s men who turned to face the dragon in fear, swords lifted in a pathetic last chance of defence. 

It was an opportunity that Rhaenyra’s men did not let pass. 

And an opportunity Daemon didn’t either. 

The Dark Sister blade cut through three men, and Jacaerys upon Vermax landed behind the Queen and her men, a subtle threat, and a vow of protection for his Queen Mother.

Vermax growled deeply, teeth bared, whilst Rhaenys continued to circle atop Meleys from above, searching the skies for any sign of her cousins.

Ser Cole, sensing that he was fighting a losing battle, did not give up, and came at Ser Erryk brutally. The twin stumbled backwards, Arryk moving towards Cole’s side as Criston's blade barely just missed the twins face.

But as Ser Cole was occupied, and Rhaenyra watched from behind stony faced, he did not see the shadow that passed behind him, nor did he anticipate the thrusting of the Dark Sister blade through the pummel of his chest.

Ser Erryk Cargyll took advantage of the opportunity, and turned to face his twin brother, a man who was the exact image of him bar small scars upon their bodies, and if you had asked Arryk a year before, he was taller. Their swords clashed together, moves and skill mirrored as both men had grown and trained together side by side.

Daemon Targaryen, the once Rogue Prince and now Rogue King, a man who was seasoned in war, and battle, and swordsmanship, stood behind Ser Criston Cole, blade in hand as it penetrated through the top of his chest under his shoulder. Blood dripped from its tip thickly as he looked down at it, eyes wide in shock. 

Daemon’s silver hair, now streaked in blood, lifted gently in the breeze that rolled past.

The drops of Ser Cole’s blood was loud in Rhaenyra’s ears as she looked at the man dubbed ‘The King Maker’.

With a large boot, Daemon kicked the knight off of his blade, and onto his knees.

Ser Criston Cole landed with a thud, looking up at Rhaenyra, eyes darkened by hatred. The blade in his hand had fallen to the ground, and blood dripped down from his wound thickly, splattering across the stones like many of his other men. 

Rhaenyra looked down her nose at the man, lips pulled back in a sneer.

It was quiet on the path, the only sound Rhaenys’ dragon calling out from above, and the sound of blood on stone. All other fighting was drowned out by the rage that pumped through her veins.

And as though connected through a bond, like rider and dragon, Daemon stood behind Ser Criston Cole, The King Maker; a man who had been sworn to Rhaenyra once before, a man she had once been intimate with when she was a young girl, a man who had witnessed the Gods affirmation that she was fit for the throne, a man who had aided the usurpation of the throne, a man who had broken his oath to the cloak, and Daemon heeded the Queen’s wordless command.

Daemon swung the Dark Sister blade one final time.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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