to celebrate hitting 50k i'm sharing a snippet of the longfic i'm currently working on <3 (thank you v much to both @deepwithintheabyss and @paprikadotmp4 for the encouragement & brainstorming help <3)
still untitled (i've been calling it the "aob dubcon fic" lmao) but i have written a summary:
Jason tries to sell off his first heat to make ends meet for the upcoming winter. When he’s taken by traffickers instead, he’s sure that’s the end of him—until he’s rescued by a mysterious alpha. That “rescue” comes with a price: Jason’s heat hits shortly after, and… one thing leads to another, and now Jason and Tim are bound together by a fledgling mate bond.
It’s not the first time Jason’s had to make the best of things, but… he finds it a little bit easier this time, especially as he grows to genuinely like Tim. Unfortunately, just as they're starting to settle into mated life, Tim’s ex-pack starts getting involved, and they don’t exactly approve of Tim’s choice in mate—never mind that it wasn’t really a choice at all.
cws/tags for this snippet: reverse robins, aob dynamics, underage jason (15), first aid, medical inaccuracies (probably; i'm not a doctor, so i'm warning to be safe), hurt/comfort, touch starvation, anxiety, allusions to captivity related ptsd, self-deprecation, brief memories of non-consensual touching
editing to add: this snippet takes place in the 2nd half of chapter 2 <3 (& was originally the second scene for the fic lol)
i have also previously shared a snippet of the scene after this, when jason's heat hits, here.
Tim parks outside of an old apartment building. The brick facade is worn, cracked and peeling in places. Most of the windows are intact at least, though; two of them have lights on, the rest dark.
Tim gets out first, already having rounded the car by the time Jason is swinging his legs out. His hand rests on the door, waiting patiently for Jason to join him on the sidewalk. Then he shuts it. One hand rests on Jason’s back again, a gentle guide inside.
There’s a man at the desk near the front entrance, reading a newspaper. He spares them a brief, bored glance before going back to it.
There’s an out of order sign on the elevator, so they have to take the stairs. It’s just two flights, but by the end, Jason’s slightly out of breath. He’d thought he was in pretty good shape, but—
He guesses spending nearly a week in a small, windowless room hasn’t done him any favors.
Tim stops at a door in the middle of the hall, unlocking it and letting Jason go in first. The main room is all one room; living room transitioning to kitchen, separated by an island counter. Tim guides Jason to the couch, directing him to sit while he gets the first aid kit.
The couch is worn but comfortable, cushions sinking under Jason’s weight, cradling him.
Tim disappears down the hall, and returns a few moments later holding the biggest first aid kit Jason has ever seen. Not that he’s really an expert on the things, but— The one at his house was pretty small.
And mostly empty, honestly.
The coffee table looks comically small under it. It makes Jason’s belly flip with nerves, remembering the feeling of latex covered hands on his body, spreading him open.
He bites his lip.
Tim doesn’t open it, though; instead, he slips into the kitchen. He comes back a moment later, holding a bottle of purple Gatorade. Then, he kneels in front of Jason. It’s—odd. Having an alpha kneel in front of him, voluntarily. Even though Jason knows he doesn’t exactly have any power here, the visual dissonance is—
Odd.
He offers up the bottle. It takes a moment for Jason’s hands to move, but he does take it. His fingers fumble with the cap; he flushed, embarrassed despite himself, but gets it open.
As soon as it touches his lips, his thirst hits him full force. He allows himself two large gulps to wet his throat, and then forces himself to slow down, sipping instead.
When he screws the cap back on, he finds Tim still there. Waiting. He twists his hands around the plastic nervously.
“Alright,” Tim says gently. “Other than the bruise on your side, and the rope burns… are you injured?”
Jason shakes his head, twisting the sleeves of the alpha’s jacket. “Nn-nn. Just some bruises,” he says softly. He pauses. “And, um. I did hit my head once. It still hurts, but— I’m not, like, dizzy or nothin’.”
Tim nods. “Alright,” he says. “I’d like to do a head injury evaluation anyway. I’ll just feel over your skull, and then use a penlight to evaluate your pupil dilation. I’ve got cream for the rope burns, and for the bruise—” Tim hesitates a moment, then continues, “I’ll need to check and make sure nothing is cracked, and there’s no internal bruising.” He pauses again. “As long as there’s nothing serious anywhere else… I have some painkillers you can take, when we eat.”
Jason takes a moment to absorb all of that, and then nods, tipping his head forward obediently.
There’s a part of him screaming at himself not to be so compliant. To kick and claw and scratch and bite and fight, the way he has been for the past week. But he’s— He’s so tired, and sore, and—
The alpha smells so good, and— The smiles he keeps giving Jason melt something inside of him. He wants to keep seeing them. Keep earning them.
Tomorrow that might scare him.
Tonight—
His eyes fall closed when Tim’s fingers slide into his curls. The touch is achingly gentle. It feels— It feels good. Nice. Jason can’t help but lean into it. He thinks Tim’s hands linger a little longer than they need to, like he’s indulging Jason’s obvious enjoyment of the touch.
He does pull away eventually. Jason bites back his whine, instead sitting back up against the cushions.
“No bumps,” Tim murmurs. He gets out the penlight next, and cups Jason’s face as he shines a light first in one eye, and then the other. Jason grimaces, hissing a little as he squints. The light aggravates his aching head. “Pupil dilation is normal.” He pockets the light, and strokes Jason’s cheek with his thumb before he pulls away. “Now, I need to check your bruises.”
Jason bites his lip again. The constant worrying is starting to make the top layer of skin break and flake under his teeth. He averts his eyes, rolling the sleeves of the suit jacket up, exposing his hands. Then he pulls his shirt up, bunching it up just beneath his breasts.
His stomach jumps when Tim touches him. Tim pauses, hand hesitating, just barely touching Jason’s skin, and then— He starts to rumble, low and deep.
Jason whines. He doesn’t mean to—but it bursts from him; he can’t stop it, can’t muffle it. It’s a soft, helpless little keen, and the alpha’s rumble gets louder in response. He scoots closer, until he’s between Jason’s knees. His hand settles onto Jason’s skin, curving around his side. His other hand comes to cup Jason’s shoulder, thumb rubbing gentle circles through his clothes.
“It’s alright,” he soothes, the rumble deepening his voice. The sound—
Jason has only vague memories of his father rumbling for him, from when he was much, much smaller. Before working as a henchman had stolen much of his father’s good will. Other than that, Jason has only ever heard alphas rumble on TV. It’s—
It’s a really nice sound.
Against his will, tears fill his eyes, and he raises his hand, pressing his palm over one, like he can force them back inside. Tim’s hand settles against his side, just underneath the bruising. “You’re alright,” the alpha murmurs. “It’s okay to cry, pup.”
Jason sniffs, loud in the quiet. “I—I—”
“Shh, puppy.” Tim’s hand doesn’t leave Jason as he rises, slipping onto the couch beside him. His other hand cups the back of Jason’s head, tugging him forward—Jason’s arms come up automatically, wrapping around Tim’s neck, his shirt falling back over his abdomen. The alpha’s scent drips with comfort and the promise of protection and Jason—
He feels… He feels warm, and safe, and—
A sob rattles through his chest. Tim holds him closer, tighter, his arm winding around Jason’s waist. He buries his nose in Jason’s curls, stroking his skin with his thumb as he rocks him, slowly.
Jason’s chest heaves. His whole body shakes with each sob, so much that Jason is worried he’s going to shake himself apart. Tim’s steady hold feels like all that’s keeping him together.
It’s not just the last few days, it’s— It’s everything, since his Mom got sick and Dad turned to working as henchman and their lives just… fell apart. He’s— Jason’s been on his own for so long. Longer even than he’s been on the streets. Every day has been a fight for survival and Jason—
Honestly, he thought he’d finally lost.
Tim murmurs in his ear. Jason can’t hear a word of what he’s saying, but the tone is low and gentle, and Jason clings to it.
It takes a long time for Jason’s sobs to subside. Jason— He doesn’t know how long exactly. But he does know that when he’s done he feels exhausted. He slumps into Tim’s chest, tremors still running down his spine. His face is sticky. He definitely got snot all over Tim’s nice shirt, and that—
He’s too tired to even worry about Tim’s reaction.
Fingers comb through his hair again, lightly scritching his scalp. He lets out a soft sigh, slumping even more against the alpha’s chest.
Tim hums. He noses at Jason’s temple; a gentle nudge Jason grumbles at. “C’mon, pup,” he murmurs. “I still need to look at your bruises.”
Jason whines—the same plaintive little puppy whine he used to give his mom when he wasn’t ready to get up yet, for one reason or another. It makes Tim huff, amused; the humor reflected in his scent. It’s nice. Really nice.
He noses at Jason’s temple again. “Pup.” His voice is a little more stern. It’s not threatening, though—doesn’t even make Jason’s hackles raise. Tim is still rumbling. Close as they are, it feels like it’s seeping into Jason’s bones. It lessens the ache in him. His skin— His skin has been itchy for years, but. The creepy crawling of it has subsided, for now at least.
He’s comfortable. Jason doesn’t want to move.
He does anyway, sitting back with a scowl on his face. It makes Tim smile—his scowl deepens.
“I’ll be quick,” Tim promises.
Jason huffs a little. He leans back against the couch cushions. Tim’s hand is still under his shirt, sliding back over to the injured side as Jason lifts it. He feels— He feels more settled now. Less nervous, though butterflies still flutter between his ribs.
Jason watched Tim’s fingers probe gently around the bruising. The purple has started to fade to a greenish hue, but it still hurts when he prods it. Jason’s quiet, pained noises are soothed with soft rumbles and fingers rubbing his shoulders.
When he’s done, Tim’s hand lingers, laying casually on his waist. Jason’s skin would normally be prickling, but—
It isn’t.
It hasn’t this whole time, any time the alpha touched him.
“I don’t feel any cracks or breaks. Did— Were there any injuries to your back?” He’s no longer rumbling.
Jason misses it already. There’s a part of him that wants to snuggle up to him, see if he can’t coax that rumble back out.
He ignores it; instead shaking his head. “No. They— The, um, the boss said they were supposed to keep me as uninjured as possible. Any punishment had to be careful not to leave a mark.”
Tim hums. He strokes Jason’s skin with his thumb, and then slips his hand from Jason’s waist. It—
Jason finds that he misses it.
Tim leans forward, finally opening the first aid kit. It’s stocked, full of things Jason has names for and things he doesn’t. Tim takes out two things: the first, a small jar, and the second, a bottle of puppy’s Tylenol. Jason—he doesn’t like it, but he can’t really argue with it. Not at his size and weight and everything. They’re pills, at least, and chewable too,
Jason examines them carefully before he takes them, washing away the chalky flavor with the drink he’d been given before.
Tim unscrews the lid of the jar. The cream inside smells herbal, though not unpleasantly so. Jason holds out his arm, relaxing into the couch as the alpha works the cream into his skin.
It’s easy to let his eyes fall half-lidded. Jason is warm and sleepy. The air is thick with protective alpha scent; it soothes his hind-brain, the part that is purely omega, purely pup and longing for the comfort and safety of pack.
A small voice in the back of his mind is screaming, telling him he needs to keep his guard up.
It’s easy to ignore like this. To focus on nothing but gentle hands on his skin and the ambient noise around him; the hum of electricity and the distant noise of outside traffic.
Jason drifts.
He barely registers when the alpha switches arms, coming back up only to croon confusedly when Tim stops touching him. He blinks up at him, and gets a kind smile in return.
“Hush, pup,” the alpha soothes. “I’m going to get us something to eat.”
Jason blinks slowly at him and hums in acknowledgment. Tim gets a blanket from—somewhere, and lays it over him. It’s soft. Jason likes it. He nuzzles into it, into more of the alpha’s scent, and sighs.
He can hear Tim moving around in the kitchen—the clatter of dishware and pans, the bubbling of boiling liquid, the sound of his soft footsteps. He can smell something savory—chicken, he thinks, and garlic.
He drifts again, stirring only when Tim nudges him gently. A steaming bowl of soup is pressed into his hands.
“It’s hot,” Tim warns, a bit unnecessarily.
Jason still burns his tongue on the first mouthful. He doesn’t care. Having the food in front of him has made him realize how ravenous he is. His bowl is empty far too soon, though he’s too stuffed to go back for seconds.
His empty bowl is taken from him, and then Tim returns again. “C’mon, pup,” he murmurs. “I’ve got a spare toothbrush you can use. A spare den, too. I’ll get you some nesting materials and pajamas while you brush your teeth.”
Jason reluctantly leaves the couch and blanket behind, shuffling down the hall and into the bathroom. Tim procures a toothbrush for him, and then leaves.
It’s a relief to brush his teeth.
His captors had done it for him, so rough his gums had bled and ached. They still bleed under Jason’s gentle ministrations, but at least it doesn’t hurt. By the time he’s rinsing his mouth, Tim has returned, a bundle in his arms. He offers it to Jason.
“Clothes,” he says, a little unnecessarily.
Jason takes them, and Tim leaves again, giving him privacy. Jason goes to shut the door and then—
Hesitates.
He doesn’t want it open. But— He doesn’t…
What if he shuts it, and it won’t open again?
He’s. He’s being silly.
There’s no way this apartment has more than one bathroom. Trapping Jason inside here would be dumb, and he doesn’t think this alpha is dumb.
Jason takes a deep breath. He shuts the door.
Except—
He doesn’t. The latch hits the frame and Jason stops. His heart thunders in his ears. His breaths come sharper, quicker. He can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.
Tears burn in his eyes.
It’s not fair.
He rests his head against the frame; one hand cradling the bundle of clothes to his chest, the other gripping the doorknob.
God. He’s so fucking pathetic.
He shudders. Takes a deep breath. It shakes on his exhale, a tremor in his chest. It’s fine. He doesn’t have to shut it all the way. He can leave it like this, with the metal latch over the door frame, only the tiniest sliver of hallway visible.
It’s fine.
He’s fine.
Jason strips quickly, clothes falling into a puddle at his feet. He yanks on the pants the alpha provided. They’re a little short at the ankle, and he has to draw the drawstrings all the way out for them to stay up, but. They fit well enough.
The shirt, too, is a little big, hanging off slightly at one shoulder. It doesn’t show his breasts, and hangs down to his mid-thigh, so Jason doesn’t mind.. Both pants and tee are soft on his skin, not scratching like the other set did.
There’s a hamper. Jason drops his old clothes in, though he’d much rather see them in a dumpster somewhere. The jacket—
Jason hadn’t realized how much it had been comforting him until now. Without it, he feels almost naked. Exposed. He wants to put it back on again. He resists the urge, though. Instead, he straightens it as best he can, then folds it in half and lays it on top of the hamper before he exits the bathroom.
Tim isn’t in the living room any more, and Jason stands, nibbling on his lip. Maybe he should go for the door… but. He can’t bring himself to. Instead he stands there, uselessly, until he hears rustling further down the hall.
He approaches tentatively, and finds Tim in the den at the end of the hall.
Tim glances up when he hears Jason approach, and smiles a little. “I was just getting out some nesting materials,” he says, gesturing.
In front of him is a cushioned nest base, held off the ground by a wooden frame. Piled on top of it is—
Jason had been expecting maybe a couple of blankets and some pillows, but—
The blankets are piled tall; the one on top Jason recognizes as the blanket he’d been using on the couch. There are plenty of pillows, too—and padding, for added layers, and cushions, and, it’s… It’s a lot.
Jason’s throat feels a little tight. “Thanks,” he says, voice small.
“Of course, pup,” Tim says gently. He’s pulled his scent in tight now, but when he draws nearer, Jason catches a whiff of safehere and everythingsokay drifting off of him. His hand moves slow enough it would be easy for Jason to avoid it, but. He stays still, letting the alpha brush his knuckles over his cheek.
“Goodnight, pup,” he murmurs. “If you need me, I’ll be just down the hall.”
Jason nods. The alpha’s hand drops, and then he leaves.
The rest of the den… It’s not bare, but it lacks a personal touch. There’s a chest of drawers in the corner closest to the closet; a nightstand by the nest; and curtains hanging over the window. He shuffles further in, leaving the door open behind him.
He leaves the nest alone for now. Instead—
He goes for the closet first, opening the door. It’s bare inside, except for a thin layer of dust. Jason shuts it again. He opens the drawers, as quietly as he can. Empty as well. The den smells— Not stale, it’s definitely been used before, but. He catches the barest hints of alpha scent, and other than that… It just smells clean.
Jason rubs at his eyes.
No more putting it off.
As much as he doesn’t want to… Jason doesn’t shut the door all the way. Instead, just like in the bathroom, he leaves it open the tiniest sliver. Anything more, and he won’t be able to sleep. Anything less—
Panic.
Even the thought makes his heart race.
Jason rubs his face. He hates this. He hates it so much. Fuck. Sometimes it feels like life is just out to get him. Like—someone or something out there wants him to suffer.
Stop it. Plenty of people have it worse than you do, he scolds himself. He’s safe right now, or— He has the illusion of safety, at least. The alpha is being nice. Jason is— He’s not bound up. The door isn’t locked. There are no bars on the window. Tim treated his injuries. Held him when he cried. Gave him food and something to drink and soft clothes.
And he’d given Jason plenty of material to make a nice, comfortable nest to den in. One that might finally satisfy the instincts that have been screaming at him.
Jason takes a breath, and pads over to the nest. The sheer amount of material before him is almost overwhelming, but… He goes through it slowly. He starts with the padding, layering it into the nest base and using the cushions to help give it shape. He tests it as he goes, until he has something that’s plush, but not so much that it will engulf him. He works a nest cover over it. It’s a bit of a struggle to get it on, but Jason manages; only a little winded by the end. What padding and cushions he didn’t use—
He decides to put them in the closet, where they’ll be out of the way.
Blankets next.
Jason sorts through the pile slowly, rubbing each on his cheek. Scenting them. The one he used on the couch is the strongest scented; still thick with the contentment he’d felt in the alpha’s arms, and the protective, comforting scent Tim had drenched the air with.
He ends up using a little over half of the blankets Tim provided. The rest he puts in the closet.
Pillows—
Jason doesn’t use as many of them. He ends up putting most of them in the closet. And then, finally—
His nest is done.
He stands back, surveying his handiwork. He trills with pride, running his hand over the edge. His nest is soft. Cozy. It needs— It needs books. And— His fox. He misses his fox, the one his mom gave him. He kept it— He managed to keep it safe, all this time.
It’s probably gone now. Or ruined.
His eyes sting, and he swipes at them roughly.
Jason is so tired of crying.
He climbs into bed, pulling the blankets over and around him, snuggling down into the pillows. It feels—
Safe.
There’s something missing, though. Jason— He’s not sure what it is, but—
He’ll worry about it in the morning.
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cursed, cast, cat
Hi, lovebirds!!! It's been a minute since I've posted frogshow fic on here, but this spooky au concept and @themissakat's wonderful art of it simply will not let me rest (they helped me brainstorm for it and the stuff they've made is absolutely GORGEOUS - check it out here and here if you haven't already). I'm planning on adding more to this au (everything on here will be tagged under #cc au), so you'll see more of it soon, and this short bit is just the beginning! With all that said and done, the fic is below the cut! Hope you guys enjoy this new variant of our favorite trio <3
<I found you something,> a teasing voice singsongs through their link, honey-sweet and syrup-thick.
Marcy hums and finishes tying her bundle of herbs together with red twine, stepping up on her chair and then the counter to hang it from the rafters with its companions.
<Please tell me it’s more weeping trillium,> she sighs back. <We’re almost out, and mail order is so expensive - >
<Even better,> the voice purrs, and Marcy can practically feel the smirk in its tone, the ghost of it threatening to pull at her own lips. She rolls her eyes instead as their door creaks open, the bell at the top chiming a cheery welcome.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Marcy says aloud, eyes still focused on getting the twine to fasten tightly around the thick, oaken beam.
<I mean, I’d sure appreciate it if you looked,> the voice resounds in her head, snarky but warm.
“Okay, hang on, let me just - what did I tell you about bringing your kills into the house!?”
Sitting pretty just past the threshold is a rather large cat, brown-coated with darker markings around its face and paws like a Burmese would, but with luxurious, fluffy fur more comparable to a Himalayan. Said coat of fur is matted in places, speckled with burrs and forest detritus that indicate hours of scouring through the underbrush, and pretty gold-brown eyes stare up into hers.
In the cat’s jaws is a lump of brownish something that squirms in her unbothered grip.
<Firstly, rude,> the cat replies, promptly depositing the poor thing on the floor and casually trapping it beneath fluffy paws as it scrambles to get away. <That was one time, and I was half-high on the neighbor kids’ catnip! So not my fault. Secondly, she’s clearly alive.>
“I can see that,” Marcy says, catching flashes of amphibian-looking skin as the creature vainly struggles to free itself.
<And thirdly, I should get pets, because the way this one screamed at me the entire way here practically made me want to kill her.> The cat glares at its paws before letting out a shocked <You talk to your mother with that mouth? … Jeez, forget I asked.>
“Ooookay. Why on earth would you bring… a toad… to me?”
Marcy gets a light chuff in response.
<I’m gonna let you go now, but you gotta stay still or so help me, I will put you in my mouth again and both of us will hate it,> the cat says to whatever’s in its grasp before pulling back to sit on its haunches.
And sitting in the middle of their kitchen floor is the grumpiest-looking toad Marcy has ever seen. It beeps at - well, she isn’t sure who. Perhaps about the situation in general.
“Aw, that was cute,” Marcy coos. The toad beeps again, somehow angrier than before.
Maybe it’s… injured somehow?
<Look closer. Can’t you see it?>
The toad puffs itself up rather defensively under their twin scrutiny.
Marcy looks.
Oh.
She lets out a long, low whistle. “That is one heck of a curse you’ve got laid on you, ma’am.”
<I found her just from the smell,> the cat remarks. <So strong, I tracked her for acres before I got to ‘er. Pain in the nose, really.>
The toad makes a high, affronted little noise at that.
<The curse is what smells, lady, not you!> A pause. <Well, we’re gonna try to help you out, okay?> The mind-voice is soft and reassuring, a blanket to Marcy’s frantic inner monologue even when it isn’t speaking to her directly, and there’s a rush of fondness that Marcy knows the other can feel through their bond.
Amber eyes meet hers again. <This here’s Sasha, and she’s a fellow businesswoman!>
“A businesswoman, huh?” Marcy muses. “Well, lucky for you, I’m never one to turn away custom-ah!”
Marcy loses her footing on the countertop, foot slipping off the edge and sending her toppling face-first toward the floor. The cat dashes forward, surging upward, form growing and shifting and eyes alight with blue until -
A strong, sure arm wraps snugly around her waist, steady and tanned from the harvest sun, while its opposite spans across the backs of her shoulders. Marcy gazes up at her savior, taking in familiar mahogany-colored curls and onyx-dark eyes and full, grinning lips.
“Careful there, darlin’,” Anne says with a wink and a smirk, and Marcy can feel her face heat a bit.
“Ah.”
A leaf falls out of Anne’s hair. Marcy sends it back into place with a flick of her finger and a wink of her own, tucking one of Anne’s wayward curls behind her ear.
Anne splutters, and something sun-yellow and impossibly affectionate fills the cavities of Marcy’s chest. She presses their hands together, a habit-turned-spell, and she feels practically incandescent with the feeling, like she could-
<What the fuck are you guys supposed to be?> A new voice, steel-sharpened and moon-cold, breaks through Marcy’s mind and thus, the moment as well.
Oh. Right. The toa- the girl.
Marcy quickly clears her throat, untangling herself from her partner’s arms even as Anne mentally whines at her.
“Well, Miss Sasha, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Marcy Wu, and I’m a witch!” She exclaims with a dramatic bow and flourish. Sasha somehow seems even less impressed - it’s truly a marvel that she can express such an emotion with a toad’s face.
She gestures to the woman beside her, who rests a calloused hand on her shoulder. “And the lovely lady who brought you here is Anne, my loyal familiar.”
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