#((while they're there; finding more signs that they're around; watching over them!))

[theheadlessgroom]

https://www.tumblr.com/beatingheart-bride/722508703617728512/theheadlessgroom-beatingheart-bride

@beatingheart-bride

Dorian Gracey was not having a good morning.

“Another difficult night, sir?” Beauregard Ghast, the Gracey family’s butler, asked gently as he poured the young master a generous cup of coffee, which Dorian gratefully thanked him for, groaning, “Yes...another nightmare. At this point, I’m thinking of swearing sleep off entirely.”

“You probably just ate too close to bed,” his mother said knowingly (if still somewhat dismissively), taking a sip from her cup of tea while his father, who was only half-listening, was reading the morning paper between puffs of his cigar and swigs of coffee, as Mrs. Gracey continued, “We had a very late dinner last night, and dessert wasn’t your friend, I’m sure.”

I dreamt I was hanging by my neck until I was dead, Mother! Dorian thought to himself, as he took another long sip of coffee in a vain effort to wake up, as well as keep himself from snapping his mother. I don’t think that was caused by ice cream!

“You should go on more walks,” his father commented from behind his paper, still only half-paying attention. “A little fresh air will do you some good, my boy. You’ve been cooped up in the house too much-especially in that stuffy old conservatory, you should get out a bit more! Why, whenever I needed to get a little fresh air to clear my mind, I used to go horse-backing riding...”

Dorian sighed as he let his parents voices wash over him, rubbing his temple as he drained his cup before reaching for the pot to have another: Why was this happening to him? The dreams just didn’t stop keeping, dreams of dying, being dead...they were to make him want to stay up all hours, lest he experience the same nightmare over and over...he wished he had an answer, or at least someone to talk to them about, someone who’d understand...

Lizzie would understand.

No, no, he told himself silently, as he caught himself before his cup runneth over. I don’t want to worry her...God, I wish I could talk to her, really talk to her...I wish I could tell her how I really feel...but what’s the use? We could never be together...

[lay-z]

Simon Riley appreciates a healthy routine.

Neither Gaz nor Soap can quite tell what is stranger their Lieutenant declining to go for a pint after touching ground back on base or the sight of him furiously typing away on the cracked screen of his phone since they got some proper cell service.

They keep sitting in their respective seats on the plane, quietly observing Ghost and Captain Price for the past hours like they're some nearly extinct animals they shouldn't dare to startle; trying to gauge the latter's reaction, though that hint of a knowing smile barely hidden behind a coarse beard is only confusing them more.

It's as if Price has found the answer to a riddle that his Sergeants aren't even fully aware of.

Almost immediately, they lose sight of the sneaky Lieutenant as soon as the plane lands on the tarmac and once the tired soldiers receive permission to sign out for a long weekend after spending the last eight weeks deployed, travelling places no one else wants to go.

And of course, the lads think that Ghost has simply had enough of their bullshite, that the naturally aloof man is feeling too agitated and overwhelmed to linger, even though the mission was finished successfully. Perhaps he made arrangements with some working lady to get it out of his system (Soap's words, "Who else would the bloody geezer be textin' to, eh?"), or perhaps he's already being called in for a single op by Laswell.

They don't see the signs their Captain has picked up on a while ago when it comes to the closed-off Lieutenant.

The hushed phone conversations behind a closed office door, the more frequent rummaging for a phone that he usually didn't spare a glance at for hours on end, a spring in his step after suddenly spending more weekends off base, eating homemade biscuits from a Tupperware box that surely isn't his while doing his paperwork, pushing himself harder at the gym with a kind of natural energy that comes with higher testosterone levels, humming on his way back from a terrible training session with a squadron of rookies.

Yes, the signs are all quite obvious to a happily married man like John Price, because he remembers the honeymoon phase with his wife in the beginning of their relationship all too well.

Meanwhile, Simon manages the one hour long drive from base to your flat downtown in 37 minutes, and he takes the fact that he got caught speeding in stride. And what if he loses his driver's license? He's broken much worse laws in his lifetime than driving without legal documents.

The spare key to your home that you've gifted him with, feels heavier than all his tac gear combined as it rests in his jeans pocket heavy with meaning and responsibility, a reminder that he's found a new purpose in his life.

He sheds and leaves his gear and dirty fatigues in his truck, and he takes three steps at once as he rushes upstairs to your flat with single-minded focus, excitement and adrenaline equally coursing through his veins as if he's about to seize a hostile target by himself.

The familiar front door closes behind him with a soft click, and then he's greeted by peace and quiet.

Instead of finding fear or annoyance, Simon is met by raw happiness and adoration as he watches your eyes light up once you notice his presence all curled up and cozy on your couch.

"Hi!"

His socked feet make no noise as he approaches you over the carpeted floor.

"I didn't expect you for another hour," you tell him, even though he very well remembers what time he'd told you he'd arrive, though he had added two hours to that time frame just so he wouldn't disappoint you if he didn't make it.

"Your dinner is ah!"

Simon picks you up with practiced ease, and your little shriek of surprise dissolves in a fit of melodic giggles. Bulky arms wrap around your body and cradle you to his chest bridal style as he carries you towards the bedroom with simmering urgency.

The words he mumbles as explanation come out gruff and harsh, oafish even, but you can't help and feel utterly smitten by them: "Bed. Now."

You're dropped onto the mattress without warning, and the way you laugh again makes Simon's chest hurt with how hard his bloody heart flutters.

And then you're already reaching out for him right when he joins you, mattress dipping beneath his added weight as he drapes himself over the full length of your body; slotting his meaty thigh between your legs until he can lay down more comfortably on top of you like a weighted blanket.

"Can you rub my shoulders? Please?"

His voice is muffled as he nuzzles his flushed face in the crook of your neck. Sometimes, it still feels forbidden to ask for something so mundane from the person he would die for.

"Yeah, sure. Can I take off your mask?"

You can carve out his heart with a butter knife if you'd like, but he chooses to keep that to himself for now while the fact that you're asking for his consent again makes his head feel fuzzy and his arms tighten around your warm, welcoming frame reflexively.

Simon nods. "Aye, take it off f'me."

The cloth is gently removed when he manages to lift his head up before letting it drop back into the crook of your neck, and then your fingers card through his short, disheveled strands of dirty blonde hair; blunt nails scratching lightly at his skull until a full-body shudder runs along his spine.

It's heavenly.

It's more than he ever wanted and everything he never even dared to wish for.

It's a routine he's managed to build up with you from scratch.

Strangers to lovers, and he will never let you go now that he's sunken his sharpened claws into your willing flesh.

Yet he is but a tamed kitten in your tender embrace. Just a man enjoying and craving the simplest and purest form of affection right in this moment, stripped bare from his demons as you keep them off his back with your sheer, golden presence.

"You're safe now, Si. I missed you so much, baby," you coo into his ear, and his brain fills with cotton while he noses along your pulse point, breathing in your calming scent.

Then he feels the gentle press of your lips against his temple while your warm palms stroke and rub along his back, and he melts into a vulnerable puddle, exhausted eyes finally fluttering shut.

"Missed ya, too, pet," he murmurs gruffly, chapped lips brushing over your sensitive skin. "M'not gonna move f'a while, yeah?"

And Simon barely registers your answer when he's already drifting off into a dreamless slumber, allowing himself to cling to your body like a needy child while soaking up the warmth and comfort you're giving him oh so willingly.

He's home.

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Pt. 1

You couldn't help but anxiously fiddle with the hem of your dress as you sat beside Simon, one of his hands resting on your thigh, while the other gripped the steering wheel. "It's going to be fine, sweetheart. They're going to love you." Unsure, you glanced up at him, a frown on your pretty face. "Are you sure? Maybe they'll just see me as an inconvenience that will keep you from them in the future. Or maybe they'll-" Simon interrupted you as he tightly squeezed the fat of your thigh, a possessive growl leaving his throat. "They'd never. Trust me." With a sigh, you nodded. And he was right.

From the moment you two walked into the same dingy pub where you first met, the others treated you as if they'd known you for years, and you were a part of the friend group. The entire evening, you laughed and drank, Simon's hand constantly on you. At least until he left to go take a piss and smoke a cigarette.

The moment you were alone with the three men, the Scottish one leaned across the table, a gigantic grin on his face. "So? How did ya two meet?" The older one quickly pulled the Scottish one back, a scowl on his face, as he regarded his team member, but there was a certain hint of curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

You chuckled, thinking back to the day.

Excitement cursed through you as you stepped out of the cab, your phone in your hand as you watched your best friend type. But the moment she sent her message, the excitement dissipated. "I'm so sorry, but I can't make it! I'll make it up to you though!"

You rolled your eyes, glancing at the sign of the pub you were standing in front of. She couldn't have let you know before you made your way there, could she? Inside you, two demons started to fight. One yelling at you to go back home and gulp down an entire ice cream pint. The other one calmly stating that you were already here and should at least get a little bit wasted. Before you knew it, the calm demon had won and you walked into the pub, quickly finding a place at the bar. But you noticed him immediately. Sitting in a dark corner, his face almost completely hidden. And very obviously staring at you. It didn't matter when during the evening you turned around, his eyes were always on you. At first, it creeped you out, but before long, you felt warmth spread through you. You almost felt protected, his obvious attention keeping all the usual creepers at bay. So, you decided you at least wanted his number.

But when you paid for your tab, hoping to be able to join him at his table, you watched as he stood up and walked outside. As quickly as you could, without tripping over the air, you rushed after him, finding him outside, leaning against a wall. After taking a deep breath, you started to walk over to him, but he immediately pushed off the wall and started to walk away. Were you really this repulsing?

Before doubts could start to fill you, you called out to him. "Uhm, I'm sorry, Sir?" He stopped and slowly turned around to face you. With a small and hopeful smile, you crossed the distance. The closer you got to him, the more you could really see him. While the lower half of his face was hidden behind a black surgical mask, you could see the top of his cheeks. And they were red, practically glowing with heat. Adorable.

"I'm sorry, I hope this isn't too direct, but I wanted to ask if I could have your number? You're really handsome and seem like a nice man. Of course, it's okay if not, I don't want to pressure you or anything. I-" You stopped, your eyes wide as you watched his entire body trembling slightly. Like a robot, he slowly stretched out his hand to you. Your eyes focused on it and you watched for a few beats as the trembling only got worse. Then, you quickly pulled out your phone and handed it to him.

Once again moving like a robot, the man slowly plugged in his number, his hands trembling bad enough, that you thought he would drop your phone at some point. When he handed your phone back, you looked down and saw that he had also put in his name. But it was a mix of upper and lower cases, making you chuckle. You grinned up at him and pocketed your phone. “Thank you…well…have a good night.”

You turned around and walked a couple of steps before his shaking hand on your elbow stopped you. “U-Uh…uhm…eat? Uh now?” His voice was shaking even more than his hands and he kept stumbling over his words, but when he got the question out, you couldn’t help but nod with a smile.

“And yeah, that’s it.” The Scottish and the pretty one immediately burst into laughter, slapping their thighs and each other, while the older one just smirked, slowly shaking his head. You looked at them, confused. “What…?”

“What did I miss?” Simon slid into his chair beside you, his arms loosely wrapped around your shoulders. His friends immediately started to tease him, recounting points from what you had just told them. Immediately, the blush was back on his face, and you couldn’t help but chuckle along. At least until his hand came to rest on your thigh, and squeezed tightly. Oh, you were in for a night.

A/N: Here we go! Part two and the real story all wrapped up in one! Hope you like it! Edit: Re-upload because I forgot to add tags... :)

@skeletonsucker

[inchidentally]

thinking about how long Oscar has been a fan of Lando's... how much a fan he has been of Lando's... how Lando - who wants to keep his people close to him forever, went through heartbreak twice with former teammates... how he loved being the younger teammate and wasn't sure about this new guy replacing Daniel... how having Alpine, McLaren and Danny Ric fans all against Oscar from day one made Oscar go completely inside his shell which inadvertently hid his real personality from Lando at first... how it felt to suddenly be the teammate of the guy you once told your mom you'd love to have as a teammate 'because everyone knows how good he is and Oscar won't be expected to equal him right away'... but Lando is wary and unsure and hates instability... Oscar is constantly having his integrity openly questioned by every team principle and talking head and his every mistake jeered at by fans... so they still connect very delicately and from a distance of very different places on the team and in the sport... are clearly feeling each other out for months... a lot of things seem to click between them and they have identical needs and wants for the car, and genuinely tender moments where Lando finds taking care of his tall rookie to be quite sweet and rewarding actually... but then Oscar goes back to being quiet and watching Lando from inside his shell... Lando goes back to hanging out with his old teammates... the old ways of McLaren's legendary multi-cam teammate PR is officially dead... but Oscar keeps coming up to parc ferme to congratulate Lando's podiums... and Lando starts noticing that Oscar is making a real point of being steady and patient and faithful... Zak and the team are fully in Lando mode for a long while because the other half the garage keeps changing... but Andrea sees Oscar for what he is and makes sure to hug him and say that he sees him every time he stands with the team watching Lando receive a trophy... and then Oscar grabs Lando's waist one day and tugs him close and Lando's face breaks into a shocked smile... and before long Lando's staring back at Oscar... and then they start waving at each other from the cars... and they start seeing a future together... and Oscar re-signs at every opportunity... and Lando wavers for a moment, eagerly pursued by every team, but then he re-signs... and says Oscar's the teammate who has pushed him the most... calls them the strongest teammate pairing around... and their relationship has been tested when they come together, when team orders are a mess, when strategy and driver error lose them the top step... but they smile at each other, show up for each other and they swallow their own pain and they move forward.. and then they are jokily but also seriously congratulating each other for the team culture they have built... that they want to grow old together and that they are both locked in together by the common bond of pushing each other and racing each other but also never wanting to lose sight of doing right by all the people who made the car... and when one of them knows their weekend isn't quite what it should be, they put all of themselves into joy for the other when they're nailing it...

and Lando complains that Oscar doesn't like any of the activities he does with other drivers... and so Oscar goes hard into padel and suddenly we hear that they play each other more and more... until they spend a week in Bahrain 2025 together after the race playing padel and relaxing... and Lando takes over for sparkling at the cameras and fans while Oscar takes over the lengthy wordy to camera pieces and interviews and Oscar helps Lando find the right words and Lando helps Oscar relax by teasing him and Lando finds it cute when Oscar is a hopeless nerd and Oscar finds it adorable when Lando pretends to throw a fit... and now there are some weekends they just stay glued together and won't even separate for the driver's parade and Lily and Zak and Adam are patiently waiting for them to finish talking after the race and they've spent every single season being begged by media, fans, and Bob Netflix himself to hate each other and fall out and destroy everything they've worked for and they giggle and sigh and smirk at each other over who's turn it is to answer this time

and we all know there will be Moments and Tensions but also look at how many Moments have happened already that have caused rifts or angry words in any other driver pairing... but these two just take a breath, shake hands, eat nuggies, play a board game, do their immediate little solo debriefs, and get over it bc now this isn't just Lando's home, it's also Oscar's home

where they asked for a privacy door so that they are the only ones who have direct access to each other's driver's room doors !!!

and am I too stupid pilled to say that Oscar watched Lando so faithfully as they both grew up and they both already shared a friend in Max and Lando needed someone as patient and persistent as Oscar to make him believe in a teammate the way he does about his own team... and now they are each other's home and they so badly want to keep it whole and it's not just cynical championship pursuit talking it's a fondness and a genuinely carefully slowly cultivated relationship that is unlike the easy buddy-buddy friendships on the grid or the childhood trauma bond friendships but instead a rare third thing where they handle what they have with delicate hands and caution but only because they respect each other so much and feel all the stronger because of it...

[therobotsarestuckinmyhead]

Hi!, I'd like to make a request :] Could you create a headcanon where the reader is a Cybertronian [gender-neutral] [romantic] and how Optimus, Elita, Bumblebee, and Megatron would react to receiving a kiss from the reader for the first time? (I find it interesting to think about this because I don't know if the culture of "kissing" exists in TFO—let's imagine that the reader just invented it out of nowhere XD).

♡ “KISS” — Introducing Them To Kisses [TFO]

hold up, anon. i think you're cooking with kissing not being in their culture… i only hope i have done this justice. AND UHHH I MAY… HAVE GONE OVERBOARD FOR MEGATRON im totally normal abt him

scenario: you kiss them for the first time, introducing Cybertron to what a kiss is.

warnings: non consensual kissing, tooth rotting fluff

including: Optimus, Elita, Bumblebee/B-127 and Megatron

BACKGROUND: for optimus, elita and bee

— You were wandering around the archives, just goofing off on your downtime; after Orion became Optimus Prime, he made sure that every bot had rightful access to information. Valuble databanks about the history of Cybertron, various sciences, medicine, weaponry, fighting styles all accessible to the general public of Iacon but you go through them for fun, unlike Wheeljack and Ratchet and a few others who go through them for genuine purposes. You scour through data to find something that catches your optics and…

— “How Organics Show Affection.” OH. Organics. You have seen those squishy things!... in old films and on those expiditions on the surface. Those things can show affection? Eh. Optimus did say they're sentient beings… It shouldn't be surprising. You click and you lean in, deeply interested.

— “Kissing?” What a strange new thing. You look at the images. Oh. They put their intake on things? Huh. How interesting. It looks pretty thrilling, especially when they put on intake on another. Organics call intakes mouth, if you remember correctly. You have to show this to…

Optimus:

— He was just standing there with his servos on his hips, watching the Autobots work hard. Optimus has had a rather busy day and he's pretty sure his schedule is free. He thinks. So when you come to him, Prime is beaming. Waving a greeting to you as he looks down at you.

— Optimus has his battle mask off, good. You can catch him by surprise. You ask him lean down. “Uh, okay?” He's confused and then you leave him gobsmacked as your dermas crash into each other, clear blue optics widening in utter shock. He can't keep his stoicism up for this one.

— Now, Optimus isn't a stranger to kisses but he isn't an acquaintance either. While he has never been kissed before, he knows what it is. He’s fooled around in the archives for a long time, he’s rummaged through records for vorns as a miner. He knows damn well it's a sign of affection and oh boy, is he flustered. Orion never really thought about kissing another bot, it was something that wasn't exactly Cybertronian so he never really… bothered to try it out.

— His vents huff out steam and his plating puffs up a little but he knows how to keep his composure so his plating does it for a mere moment. He goes speechless momentarily and you've got this sly smile on your face as if you don't know the gravity of what you've done!

— The feeling of your dermas on his, the warmth of your plating, the subtle brush of your EM field against his guarded one. It had his spark jumping to the back of his intake.

— The longer he stays frozen there, the more unsure you become. He doesn't realize that until you snap him out of it with; “...did …didn't you like it?”. He can see the regret wash over your features!

— “N-No! I.. I loved it. It just… uh…” There. Right there you saw your old Orion, just a glimpse but you saw him there. It made your spark all fuzzy.

— But right before he could ask if the both of you could do that again, he sees Prowl and Jazz coming up behind you to drag him off for his Prime-ly duties. He's never had such a deep frown before in his life. It's alright though, he just hopes he gets to show you what a real kiss is later on.

Elita One:

— Elita was busy barking out orders to cadets. She doesn't want to be mean (she does) but some of her old miners can't hold a blaster for scrap. So the pink bot is in a bad mood, her face has a citrus sour to it as she's mumbling something under her ex-vents while she's just standing by the railing of the terrace of some random building she can't really care of think about.

— And then you come in, her mood is a bit… less sour upon seeing your faceplates in her peripheral vision but she doesn't trust that.. gleam in your optics.

— “What are you upto?” She asks with that tone, the tone which tells you that she really isn't in the mood for any antics. But this was none of the usual antics. The way you say nothing has Elita raising her optical ridges as she turns to face you.

— You say you want to show her something. You know damn well you cannot catch her off-guard. So she obliges. And she… isn't disappointed when she feels your dermas gently brush against hers. It's soft. It's soothing. Elita finds this strange; act of putting intakes together? What do you even call this? Her spark sings a song in a beat it only does when the two of you are usually cuddled up against each other after she has a bad day.

— You pull away and she instinctively steps closer, chassis flush against one another a your optics lock on. Her servos hold onto yours with a near reverent touch, Elita can feel the heat rise up to her faceplates… The way her audial fins are perked up and she doesnt resist it in the slightest. Theres no onr around, after all.

— “Can we do that again?”

— She has a new favorite thing she wants to do when she has a bad day and she couldn't thank you enough for introducing this to her. Elita is more of an actions type bot, she enjoys acts of physical affection and service more than anything else.

B-127/Bumblebee:

— “HEYYYYY!!!” You don't need to go to Bee, Bee pretty much finds you almost all the time. The golden-yellow mech is waving at you as he approaches you. He's basically your shadow, the two of you are basically conjoined; always around each other. Incredibly attached. Bee is rambling about his day as the two of you walk when a thought creeps up your processor.

— “Hm. You want me to stand still? Okay.” He obeys what you ask almost immediately, Bee doesn’t even question what for. Not even when you lean in close, infact, he likes it! The comfort of your frame is more than anything he could ask for. The way your EM field brushes against his has him trying to suppress a wide smile.

— But then your derma meets his. And he just… blinks at you. Bee is confused. What was that? It was nice. Why did it feel nice?

— “What was that?” He asks, helm tilting slightly in confusion as you laugh a bit. You're still really close to him and his spark thrums, Bee really doesn't want you to pull away from him. He's always wanted to be close to you and whatever that was, was just about as close as two bots could go in his opinion. There was literally no space between the two of you! Just how he likes it.

— “Huh. A kiss.” Bee mumbles as he looks down for a moment. The gears in his helm turning, his faceplates heating up a bit as excitment builds up in his frame; its a sign of affection! To him! The fuzziness in his spark is getting stronger. He bites his lower derma for a moment, contemplating something with his gaze lowered. His vents puffing out steam and EM field practically radiating affection.

— “Can.. Can I give you one?”

— Bee isn't the best kisser but neither are you and the both of you are definitely going to be doing this more often. Practice makes perfect, after all.

Megatron: yes he gets it seperate

— You're worried sick, hiding behind rocks. The Lord is injured. Megatron is down, helm cradled in your servos as his frame lays limp on your lap. The Quintesson ground troopers were far too strong. All of you fought valiantly but had to retreat when their ship enveloped the skies. This had become routine after D… Megatron's banishment. A stray shot from seemingly nowhere managed to injure Megatron and you made sure that filthy Quintesson you assumed to have harmed him paid with their life. You're freaking the frag out. Spark going a mile a minute and right now, you feel so small. So vulnerable. You don't realize Megatron is semi-conscious, his red optics are flickering. Your servos are cupping his face, as a digit caresses his cheek.

— “D…” Megatron can hear that wretched name spill from trembling dermas and it stirs him, he wants to give you a peace of his mind for using that name for him.

— You have absolutely no idea what happened, or why it happened, or even how it happened but this urge from deep down in your spark swelled up when you saw Megatron laying there, knocked almost unconscious with his helm on your lap and you can’t help but think of how you could’ve almost lost him.

— Meanwhile, Megatron was just about to get up and yell at you to get your servos off of him. It takes a lot more than a simple cheap trick-shot from the sky by Starscream of all mechs to take down Megatron and he's insulted that you think he'd offline from something like that. Speaking of that, he's furious. But what you did next had his crimson optics wide. You leaned your helm down and your dermas met his, in a manner so soft and chaste it had his own spark thrumming the way it used to when he'd lay his optics on you as a miner.

— The moment you pull back and see that he was in fact, conscious, you make a face that snaps Megatron out of his shock. The way your vents puffed out some steam and your fans clicked; you were flustered beyond measure. Certainly embarrassed.

— And looking at you from this angle, how vulnerable you look, as if you genuinely thought you might’ve lost the only thing in the universe you care about, it takes him back to a different time. For once, the anger and hatred in his spark soothes as a sense of… something akin to nostalgia takes over. Your servos pull away from his faceplates to cover your own from sheer mortified embarrassment at your impulsive action and the loss of your warmth makes him frown. The tenderness in your EM field was unmistakably affection and he knew it.

— “...do it again.” Megatron practically commands but there's something softer in his tone. He doesn't know what the action is called but he certainly… Liked it more than he should. You look absolutely confuddled, servos moving away from your face as you’re looking down at him with wide optics. Like you're not sure you heard him right. You honestly thought he was going to yell at you.

— “Don't make me repeat myself.” The softness ebbs away slowly with more time you take and you lean back down, cradling his face again as you kiss his nasal ridge this time. Megatron found himself… enjoying it, his spark flutters despite the damage his frame had taken. The feeling of your dermas against his faceplates was thrilling almost, especially against his own dermas. The warmth of your faceplates, you're still embarrassed. Megatron decides it a good look on you.

— “...” He looks at you almost as if he's peering through your spark with his derma pursed into a thin line, searching for something in your optics before saying; “...again, where you did it the first time.”

— You've soothed him. So that means you've spared Starscream from a brutal beatdown and replaced it with just a beatdown.

— He's definitely going to have a more private session with this new activity back at the makeshift Decepticon base. He doesn’t even know what its called, not even you know what its called and Megatron could care less. He could live with that. You've invented something new that the two of you could cherish between yourselves.

i lowkey love people requesting for elita, she may or may not be a 'literally me' character also shoutout to that one anon that requested blackarachnia cause we really don't have enough fics about the fembots

[seijorhi]

the idea of oikawa not being ready when he meets his soulmate.

it isn't that he thinks you're not good enough, not pretty enough, not right for him, it's just that oikawa wasn't expecting to find you so soon.

soulmates are forever, you'll be there waiting for him when all's said and done, but his career in volleyball – it won't be. he's young, fit and hungry for it; in his absolute prime, but if he doesn't put in the effort now, give it everything, 100% of what he has... it'll slip right through his fingers.

he can't risk that.

there's a strange sort of desperation that tugs at his chest when he tries to explain, to get you to understand it. it's a sacrifice you'll both be making for the sake of the career he's dreamed of his whole life.

the way your smile slowly slips away when you realise he's not asking for you to be patient and give him grace when his focus is more on volleyball than you, he's saying he can't have you around at all, because you will distract him.

he'd lose himself in you.

it's not forever, he stresses, only a little while. you're perfect, and in a year or two when he's more settled in his role, the starting setter on the right team, heading to the championships, he'll be there to give you everything you deserve. no – more. he'll make it up to you, all he's asking for (but he's not really asking, is he) is a bit of time and space.

the light dims in your eyes, a strange, glassy look taking over, and slowly, so fucking slowly, you pull your hands from his, let them fall weakly to your side. it takes a monumental effort to not snatch them back up.

'yeah, okay.'

the expression on your face is all wrong, your voice almost robotic, but oikawa knows it's the right thing. you'll forgive him, because that's what soulmates do. you'll forgive him and then fall even more in love with him and oikawa will spend every damn day showering you in the love and affection he can. he'll drown you in it.

just give him this. let him give everything to volleyball, before he shares himself with you.

—

you're a little too good at it.

it's harder than he expected, going no contact. he was the one who wanted it – needed it, really, for this to work – but there'd been a small part of him that sort of hoped you'd ignore what he wanted and reach out anyway. he'd imagined sneaking a quick peek at his phone during a water break to see a message from you, something simple, casual, a 'hope things are good!' or 'i caught some of the game last week'. was it unfair of him to want you keeping track of him? to see how far he'd come in the days, weeks, months since he'd asked for time?

it's like an itch under his skin, and it grows. a few of his new teammates have met their soulmates, carry the marks to show for it. they're all smug as fuck about it, but the thing is whenever their soulmates are watching from the stands, they play with a different kind of fire. they're better. envy burns watching them celebrate afterwards, all hungry kisses and smiles too fucking big.

he knows you'd be there too if you could. you'd be there every damn game, all of their practices too, cheering him on. his biggest fan.

it's an ache. he goes home to an empty apartment, better than the one he had when he met you, in a nicer part of town, but no less lifeless. there's no one to welcome him home, to wrap him up in a hug, kiss him how he likes and soothe away the days stresses. no one to warm his bed, no other pussy'll ever be as tempting as yours.

i miss you.

i'm thinking of you.

would it kill you to break his rules and reach out every now and then? to give him some kind of sign that this distance was driving you half as crazy as it was him?

are you trying to punish him?

it occurs to him that you probably don't have his phone number. it shouldn't have stopped you, because it wouldn't've stopped him.

—

the first time he tries to follow your instagram you block his account.

it's irritating, until he remembers that you're probably trying to abide by his rules. he can't exactly get mad at you for that, tries not to, and instead does what any sane man missing his soulmate would do; creates a fake account, steals a picture from one of his sister's friends and uses that as his profile pic – even goes so far as to follow a bunch of your friends’ accounts too, just so it doesn't look suspicious or weird when he follows you too.

and for a little while, it's enough. he can see what you're up to, who you're hanging out with, where you're going. he'll watch all your stories, your friends’ stories, just for a few seconds of you.

(maybe strokes his cock to a few of them, cums in his sheets gasping your name.)

you're being patient, he's being good, it's only for a few more months, he can last a little longer–

there's a new post on your insta, a snap of you and some asshole with his arm wrapped around your waist, your lips pressed to his cheek.

'Happy six months, love you a little more every day!'

[millers-girl]

the distance between

chapter 7 of willow & whiskey

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: You find what you've been searching for in Jackson. And then, just as quickly, you risk losing it.

warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, angst, probably more I can't think of right now

word count: 6.2k

series masterlist

You watched quietly from the top of the stairs, spine pressed against the furthest wall, breath held tight in your chest as the front door creaked open. A stranger stepped inside, older, weathered, and armed – he set his crossbow down carefully by the door, then began to hesitantly take his jacket off.

Below, Joel’s voice cut through the stillness. “And the gun.” 

The man's gaze immediately shot to the corner of the room, where Joel emerged from the shadows, gun raised.

"Who the hell are you?" the man asked.

"Just someone passin' through," Joel replied, tone low and unreadable. 

You nearly rolled your eyes at how predictable that answer was. Beside you, Ellie shifted her weight and leaned forward, curiosity buzzing under her skin.

"I'm lookin' for my brother," Joel said, calm but firm. The man scoffed, denying ever seeing him. "I haven't told you what he looks like."

"Does he look anything like you?"

"A bit."

"Then I ain't seen him.”

From where you were crouching, you could see Joel’s jaw ticked. You didn’t need to see his face to feel the tension; it rolled off him in waves. 

The man’s wife spoke up from her spot on the rocking chair. "He's got two girls with him,” she said, nodding toward Joel. “One’s a kid. Other’s a little older. Pretty. He thinks so, too.” 

Heat quickly climbed up your neck, tinting your cheeks pink. You stiffened, eyes flicking toward Joel instinctively.

Before you could even begin to translate the look on his face, Ellie spoke up from behind you.

“Can we come down?”

Joel looked up, eyes catching yours for a moment before flicking to Ellie. “No,” he ordered firmly. But she was already bolting down the stairs, boots heavy on the creaky steps. “Ellie!”

The couple chuckled softly, amused by her personality. You descended after her, catching up just as Joel turned to scold her.

"What did I just say?"

Ellie rolled her eyes at him. "Joel, come on. They're, like, a thousand."

"Ellie!" you hissed, shooting her a look before turning to the couple. "Sorry. She's a little – "

"Psycho?" the husband offered, amused.

"Impatient," you corrected, protectively slinging an arm around Ellie’s shoulders.

"Who are you two?" The husband asked.

"Never mind them," Joel muttered while you, simultaneously, introduced yourself and Ellie to the couple, ignoring Joel’s scowl. Meeting his eyes, you shrugged. "What are they gonna do? They are, like, a thousand." You turned back to the couple. "No offense."

The man tilted his head, eyes flicking between you and Joel before settling on Ellie. "She yours?" 

It took a moment for you to realize he was asking if Ellie was your and Joel's kid. Your mouth opened––then shut––then opened again, heat prickling your cheeks all over again.

"Ew, what?!" Ellie said, feigning a dramatic gag. "He's nearly as old as you two!”

You clamped a hand over her mouth, your laugh betraying you. 

“What my sister means to say is,” you said sweetly, “he’s hot for his age and he’d be so lucky to have babies with me. Unfortunately, he’s a little too grumpy all the time to even get in the mood.”

Joel sighed heavily but you didn’t miss the way the corner of his mouth twitched. He turned back to the man, insisting, "I need you to tell us where we are."

"If you got a map, how come you lost?" the husband asked.

Ellie pried your hands away from her mouth, giving her usual smartass reply. "Must've missed all the street signs in the enormous fucking forest."

The man raised an eyebrow, entertained by Ellie. "Ho-ly," he lowly whistled at the crude language she used. His wife laughed again.

Joel stabbed a finger onto the map on the coffee table. “We’re somewhere here. Exactly where? And your answer better be the same as your wife's." 

The couple shared a glance, then the man pinpointed their location on the map. The same place his wife had located. 

Joel sighed, putting away his gun and commenting, "Well, you found a great place to hide, I guess."

"Hide?" The husband scoffed. "Came here before you were born, sonny. Get the hell away from everybody."

"I didn't want to," the wife murmured.

There was a thick pause before the man continued, his voice softer now. "Listen, I didn't mean to upset you about your brother, but if you've come this far, then you know what's out there. You seen Cody?"

You sat beside Joel, the couch cushions sinking beneath you as you let out a quiet breath. "We got close enough to know it's crawling with Infected. Guessing Laramie and Wind River Reservation too?"

The man nodded grimly, adding, "Anywhere people used to be, you can't go there no more."

"So, you haven't heard the name Tommy?" Joel asked.

"Nope."

"What about the Fireflies?" Ellie added.

"We get those in the summer."

"Not the bugs," Ellie explained with a sigh. "The people."

"There are firefly people?" the wife asked, and you nearly snorted at her blissful ignorance. 

"You got any advice on the best way west?" Joel asked, voice quieter now too.

The old man nodded, tapping the map. "Yeah. Go east... But never go past the river here. Ever."

"What's past the river?" Ellie asked.

"Death,” the wife answered. “We've never seen who's out there but we see the bodies they leave behind.”

Bodies? You thought. Tommy couldn’t be –

You cleared your throat, skin crawling slightly. "Well, that's comforting," you murmured, hand instinctively resting on Joel’s back. He barely settled back against it, mind distracted by the disturbing warning.

"If your brother's west of the river, he's gone," the man concluded.

"You're not gonna scare us," Ellie said stubbornly.

"Scared them," the wife replied, nodding toward you and Joel.

Neither of you reacted until you exited the cabin. 

Outside, the cold hit sharper. Wind whistled through the trees and snow crunched underfoot as the three of you stepped away from the cabin. Your breath fogged in the air.

"You guys don't seriously believe them,” Ellie said.

Joel walked a few steps ahead, head bowed, so you took it upon yourself to answer her. "They've lived here a long time. There’s no reason for them to lie.”

"They don't know anything,” Ellie argued. “Never even heard of the Fireflies."

You were about to respond when Joel suddenly stopped. He froze mid-stride, one hand gripping the fence post, knuckles pale. His back was rising and falling too fast, like his lungs couldn’t catch up.

Your heart dropped.

"Joel," Ellie tried, her voice brittle with alarm.

"Joel, hey," you echoed, already moving toward him. "Are you okay?"

He didn’t answer at first. Just kept his head down, shoulders tense. His eyes were squeezed shut. “I’m fine,” he finally ground out, unconvincingly. “I’m okay.”

Neither of you believed him.

"Holy shit, is he dying?" Ellie asked, turning to you.

"How the fuck would I know?" you replied. "I mean – he doesn't look like he's dying… does he?" 

"I'm okay," Joel muttered again, quieter this time – almost like he was trying to convince himself. "I'm okay."

"No, but are you?" Ellie pressed, unrelenting. "Because just a reminder: if you're dead, we are fucked."

"I said I'm fine," Joel softly snapped, finally straightening enough to glance back at you two, his face pale, jaw clenched. "It's just... the cold air all of a sudden."

You and Ellie exchanged a look, both knowing better than to believe him. Whatever it was, the stubbornness of both of you combined would get to the bottom of it. 

But for now, you tried to ease his pain by taking a note from the best and offering some wonderful comedic timing.

"Maybe Ellie was right, old man," you teased softly as Joel caught his breath. "Should we get you a wheelchair?"

He huffed, low and annoyed. But he seemed to breathe a little easier. “Alright,” he mumbled. “Let’s go find Tommy and the Fireflies.”

“Yeah, it'll be easy,” Ellie chimed in. “All we have to do is cross the River of Death."

You had to admit, the “River of Death” was way too overhyped in your head. For hours, the name had rattled around in your mind like a warning, sending shudders through your spine at the image of carnage and horror. You thought you’d see piles of bodies – decapitated, missing limbs, dried blood staining the snow. 

Instead, you found no missing limbs. No blood. No bodies.

Just a frozen-over river, quiet and still beneath a thin layer of fresh snow.

It was close to dark by the time you made the decision to stop for the night, setting up camp in a cluster of shallow caves carved into the rocks along the riverbank. Tomorrow, you’d cross. Tomorrow, you’d face whatever was on the other side. 

But tonight? Tonight, you would be thankful for the clear night sky, which offered you a breathtaking view of the aurora borealis. Above you, it stretched in ribbons of bright green, glowing softly against the dark sky. The sight grounded you, allowing your mind to rest in the rare, aching wonder.

“Wow,” you murmured, just as Ellie’s awed voice drifted down from the boulder she’d climed. 

“Get down from there,” Joel called up, his tone firm but tired. “You’re gonna break your neck.” 

Ellie hopped down with a huff, brushing snow off her sleeves, and nestled beneath your arm without a word. Her body was cold against yours, but you held her close anyway, warming both of you under the shared sleeping bag.

Her eyes flickered to the river, dark and silent under the moonlight. “Thought it was supposed to be scary,” she mumbled against your side.

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly, rubbing warmth into her arm. “Maybe isolating yourself in a remote cabin for half a century can make you lose your marbles a little.”

She snorted a soft laugh, burrowing closer.

You watched Joel as he settled near the small fire, his silhouette rugged and steady. He unclasped his flask and took a slow sip, his shoulders relaxing at the warmth. He caught you watching and offered the flask. Your brow rose. “What did I say about drinking?”

Joel’s lips twitched, his tone dry as the winter air. “That I’d better take you out on a real date before tryin’ to get you drunk,” he stated monotonously, like he’d had the phrase memorized. You did say it often enough. 

You huffed a laugh, settling deeper into the sleeping bag. “And this is supposed to count as a date? In front of the River of Death? Romantic,” you deadpanned, but the warmth in your voice betrayed you.

The corner of his mouth curved up.

“Can I have some?” Ellie perked up beside you, eyes bright with mischief as she looked at Joel. He was already shaking his head. “Just to warm up,” she pleaded, her gaze shifting to you, big brown eyes shimmering with exaggerated innocence. 

You sighed, already knowing where this was going. The puppy-dog eyes – you could see it coming from a mile away but that didn’t stop you falling for it every time. With a nod, you relented, “Just one sip.” 

Joel hesitated before handing over the flask. Ellie took it, tipped it back, and immediately recoiled, face scrunching in disgust. “Yep, still gross.” 

You giggled, watching her hastily hand it back to Joel, who took another swig without flinching. 

The fire crackled softly, filling the quiet. Ellie shifted beside you, her voice thoughtful. “So, I’ve been thinking…” 

You snorted. “Huh. That’s new.” 

She elbowed you, light but playful, nudging you closer to Joel’s side. You didn’t move away; didn’t want to. And he didn’t seem to mind.

“Let’s say we find the Fireflies, it all works; they draw my blood and put it through their fancy machines and make a cure… Then what? Like, what do we do?” 

Joel was quick to speak up, teasing in that dry, serious tone of his, “Oh, it’s ‘we’?” 

Your smile deepened as Ellie rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine, whatever. You. You can do anything you want. Where are you going? What are you doing?” 

Joel thought for a moment, gaze distant, like the answer was almost inconceivable. “It’s never been an option,” he admitted quietly. “Maybe… an old farmhouse, some land, a ranch.”

Your chest squeezed tightly at that. You could picture it so easily – Joel leaning sitting on a rocking chair on a creaky wraparound porch, guitar settled into his lap as he strummed away mindlessly. There’d be a quiet peace in his face that you’d never seen before but could still picture so clearly.

Ellie was grinning. “What kind?” she pressed.

“Sheep.” 

Your head snapped up, eyes meeting Ellie’s, who was now smirking knowingly. “Huh,” she said, “Popular dream. Maybe you two can raise sheep together.” 

Joel’s eyes flicked to you, glinting with quiet amusement. “What? You too?” You nodded. “What – city girl on a farm?” 

“I’ve lived in Boston all my life,” you started, shrugging. “Never really got that small-town experience – quiet, peaceful, simple. I think I’d fit in well in a place like that.” 

To your surprise, Joel nodded too. “I think so, too,” he murmured, voice softer than you’d expected, before clearing his throat and turning to Ellie. “And what about you? Where are you gonna go?” 

You nudged him gently, giving him a hint by pointing up, at the sky and the shining, big cratered sphere amongst the stars. The moon. 

“It’s probably because I grew up in the QZ. Behind you, there’s ocean; ahead of you, there’s a wall. Nowhere to look but up.” 

Pride swelled at your chest for the oddest of reasons. Even if you weren’t blood, she was yours. That curiosity about the stars, that hope of a better life – you gave that to her. It belonged to both of you.

“I read everything I could in the school library. Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Jim Lovell… But you know who my favorite is?” 

Joel didn’t even blink. “Sally Ride.” 

“Sally fuckin’ Ride! Best astronaut name ever.”

You hummed in agreement, letting silence settled again, heavy and soft like the blanket of snow surrounding your small group. 

Then, small and tentative, Ellie asked, “It’ll work, right? The vaccine?” 

Joel, missing the crack in her voice, mumbled, “It’s a little late to start wonderin’.” 

You gently elbowed him, gaze still steady on Ellie. “Why do you ask, love?” 

Her eyes shimmered faintly, the firelight catching the hesitant look on her face. “I tried… with Sam.” 

You felt Joel tense beside you as Ellie continued, “I knew he was infected. I rubbed some of my blood into his bite – ” She rushed on, defensive but broken. “I know, I know. It was stupid. But I… I just wanted to save him.” 

You shifted closer, reaching out a hand. When she took it, you squeezed three times. “Then it wasn’t stupid,” you simply stated.

Joel’s voice rumbled low. “And anyway, I reckon it’s a lot more complicated than that. Marlene, she’s a lotta things – ” You huffed in agreement. “ – but she’s no fool. If she says they can do it, they can do it.” 

Ellie nodded faintly, but you could see she wasn’t convinced. Not really. She tucked herself tighter beneath your arm, letting the silence win this time.

“Are we gonna flip for first watch?” she mumbled.

Joel sighed, stretching his back, “I’ll do it. Get some sleep… both of you.” His voice softened as he added, almost fondly, “Dream of… sheep ranches on the moon.” 

And just like that, your heart melted all over again.

The next morning, the three of you continued your trek along the River of Death, finally coming upon a bridge with frost still clinging to its rusted rails. You crossed in a steady silence. Joel and Ellie chatted ahead of you, something about hunting and dams, but their words felt distant, muffled beneath a creeping stillness.

Something didn’t feel right.

You couldn’t explain it at first. Just… a pressure. Like the air itself had shifted. It felt unnaturally still, like someone had willed it so. 

Your suspicions were confirmed when out of nowhere, a group of horses burst from the treeline, all charging at you, their riders masked, weapons raised. It happened so fast you barely registered it, body moving on instinct as you shoved Ellie behind you, gun already in your hands, barrel aimed out at the strangers as they circled you.

“We’re not lookin’ for any trouble,” Joel called out, hands raised, voice calm but clipped. “We’re just passin’ through.” 

“Drop the gun,.” 

Joel’s eyes flicked back to you, silently nodding. Reluctantly, you lowered your weapon, muscles coiled tight, thumb still resting near the safety. You positioned yourself close enough so that Ellie could reach for the knife tucked in your back pocket if she had to.

“Any of you been near Infected?” one of the masked men asked. When you denied it, another rider approached, with a large dog straining against its leash, teeth bared. 

“If you’ve been infected,” he warned, “he will smell it, and he will rip you up.” 

You swallowed, heart thudding painfully as the leash slipped free. The dog lunged for Joel first, sniffing furiosity. Joel stood stock-still, jaw clenched. Then the dog turned to you and Ellie.

Your hand twitched toward the knife but Ellie’s hand caught your wrist, giving it a subtle squeeze as if asking you to wait. You glanced back at her, wondering what the hell she was thinking, until the dog was bounding forward and… licking Ellie’s face.

A small giggle bubbled out of her, startled and breathless. The tension snapped from your shoulders, chest flooding with shaky relief as the dog moved on to you, tail wagging, tongue warm against your cheek.

“You just bought yourselves ten more seconds,” the man muttered. “What are you doing out here?” 

You scratched behind the dog’s ears as Joel explained, “Just lookin’ for my brother. That’s all, nothin’ more.” 

A woman at the back urged her horse forward, dark eyes scanning Joel like she knew him already. And, to be fair, she did. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Joel.” 

At that, something shifted in her expression. A flicker of recognition, or maybe surprise. Instead of shooting you all dead and leaving more bodies along the River of Death, the group offered your group two horses to follow them toward their community.

Beyond the impressive, impenetrable gates, Jackson felt like a time capsule. Like a small town frozen in time. Storefronts with faded signs, people walking on the brick-paved main street, children laughing as they made snowmen nearby. Street lights twinkled along rooftops, surging with electricity.

“Holy shit,” Ellie whispered from behind you, taking the words right out of your mouth.

The horses came to halt near the stables, but Joel wasn’ t looking at that, nor at the town. His gaze had locked onto a figure atop a construction platform.

You could see the family resemblance before Joel even shouted his name.

“Tommy!” 

The man’s head snapped up, recognition lighting his face like sunrise. Joel swung off his horse, boots crunching through the snow as he strode forward. Tommy met him halfway, pulling him into a hug so fierce you could almost feel it in your own ribs. 

It warmed you, watching them. For a moment, as he was laughing with his brother, Joel looked younger, softer. 

After their reunion, Joel introduced Tommy to you and Ellie, and, in turn, Tommy introduced Maria, the woman who’d asked for Joel’s name during the ambush. The five of you made your way to the dining hall, so that you, Ellie, and Joel could warm up and get some food in your empty stomachs. 

Ellie practically scarfed her food down, and you weren’t much better. Each bite felt like Michelin-star cooking.

“There’s more if you need it,” Maria offered, kind but cautious.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Joel replied, polite in that stiff way he got around new people. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.” 

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal,” Ellie mumbled with a mouthful of food. “This is fuckin’ amazing.” 

Joel’s eyebrows shot up. “Ellie, let’s mind our manners.” 

Ellie shot you a look across the table and you shrugged, hiding a grin. Joel… parenting? You never thought you’d see the day. He seemed tamer here, almost domesticated.

From beside you, Tommy cleared his throat, sensing the tension at the table and offering, “You know what? I think maybe y’all got a little off on the wrong foot.” 

“She was gonna have her guys kill us!” Ellie pointed out.

“Well, we gotta be real careful about who we let in this place,” Tommy explained gently. “But it’s all bark. We’re just tryna scare off those who might wanna try us is all.” 

“Well, you got a couple of 90-year-olds shitting themselves out there,” you snorted, gettin Joel’s scolding look aimed at you now. “They said you leave dead bodies around.”

“Those are the people who tried us,” Maria said, cool and even.

Joel cleared his throat, shifting the air again. “Ma’am, we’re grateful for your hospitality and all. But it’d be nice to have a moment here, maybe just for family.” 

“Well, um…” Tommy began, reaching for Maria’s hand. “Maria is family, actually.” 

You nearly choked on your potatoes at that, coughing hard until Tommy patted your back to help.

From all you’d heard of him, the younger Miller brother was unpredictable – liked the attention from the ladies, never wanted to settle down, always a troublemaker. 

But that seemed to be pre-outbreak Tommy. The pandemic changed everyone, you supposed. It made you wonder what pre-outbreak Joel was like.

“Oh shit,” Ellie reacted to Tommy’s news, before offering a smile. “Congrats.” She nudged Joel, who found it hard to spit out, “Congrats” in that predictably stiff way of his.

Tommy nodded, his smile faltering just a bit. You’d been on the other end of a disappointed Joel Miller, and it was not a fun place to be. 

So, when Tommy suggested a tour of Jackson, you hung back with him while Ellie walked with Maria and Joel trailed behind them.

“I’m happy for you,” you told him, breaking the silence between you two. 

Tommy gave you a curious glance. “You don’t even know me.” 

“Feels like I do,” you laughed lightly, making a smile break out onto his own face. He felt your positivity – it was contagious. “Just from what Joel’s said.” 

“Yeah, and what’s that? All bad stuff, I bet.” 

You were already shaking your head. “Not all bad. From what he told us, you seemed… passionate. Empathetic. Funny – though I’m gonna have to be the judge of that myself.” 

Tommy’s smile only widened. “He said that?” 

“Not in so many words,” you teased. 

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed. “You seem kind, too. Probably passionate. Funny – based on that comment about the elderly couple.” 

You nodded, finding comfort in his presence already, and you knew why. “Might be two sides of the same coin, you and me.” 

“Might just be, darlin’,” he agreed as the two of you caught up to the other three. 

“So, are you, like, in charge?” you heard Ellie ask Maria.

“No one person’s in charge. I’m on the council – democratically elected, serving 300 people. Everyone pitches in, we rotate patrols, food prep, repairs, hunting, harvesting. Everything’s shared. Collective ownership.”

“So, uh… communism,” Joel noted, a hint of playfulness in his accusation.

Tommy was already scoffing. “Nah, it ain’t like that.” 

“It is like that,” Maria corrected. “Literally. This is a commune. We’re communists.”

That had Tommy pausing in his steps, and you nearly ran into him. “Seems like you might need a minute to digest that info, Commie,” you teased, patting him on the shoulder as you walked past with a giggle. 

“I’m not – ” he began shouting after you but then lowered his voice, mumbling to himself, “I’m not a communist.” 

But you were already out of earshot, joining Ellie and Maria as the latter led you two girls over to a house across from hers and Tommy’s, leaving the Miller brothers to catch up. 

Ellie took the first shower in your new (temporary) house. You watched her disappear into the bathroom, shoulders lighter than you’d seen in weeks. And when she reemerged, she seemed like a different person. 

“I feel so clean!” she announced excitedly, and you giggled, finally stepping into the steaming shower yourself when Ellie left for Maria’s to get a haircut. Hot water against your cold skin felt so rare, like a small, stolen moment of normalcy.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been in there. When you exited the bathroom, in fresh clothes and wringing your hair out on a towel, Ellie stormed past you through the hall, her face crumpled with anger and eyes glassy.

“What happened?” you asked, following her into her room as she roughly tossed her jacket off and threw it across the room onto the bed.

"Did you know?" she snapped back, angry tears continuing to silently fall down her cheeks.

You froze. "Know what?"

"That Joel was planning on leaving us? Dumping us onto Tommy like we're a problem?"

The words knocked the air from your chest. "What are you talking about?" 

"I heard him, talking to Tommy. Saying something about how he knows he's gonna get us killed; about how he has to leave us... I mean, that's just another way of saying he doesn't want us around anymore, right? That he's dropping us, that we're replaceable."

You flinched at the words, shutting your eyes as you processed what she’d just said. That didn’t sound like something Joel would say – and yet, simultaneously, it felt exactly like something he’d say.

You sat with Ellie for the next hour, letting her anger burn itself out beside you, until her tears dried out, until both of yours did. 

As she settled under her duvet cover, you silently made your way into the master bedroom, now getting nauseous at the look of it – at the look of Joel’s stuff on the left nightstand and yours on the right – at the look of a life you could’ve had, one that was apparently too good to be true. 

You couldn’t believe it – yet, you could.

Before you could overthink yourself in circles again, you got to work, moving all your things into Ellie’s room. Quietly, carefully. 

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear the front door open. Didn’t hear Joel’s heavy boots making their way up the stairs. Not until you bumped into him, arms full of the last of your belongings.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly, gaze flicking to the new half-empty bed behind you.

You met his eyes, steady. “Are you making Tommy take me and Ellie the rest of the way?” you quietly asked him, voice empty of any resentment or anger. You weren’t desperate to understand his actions, not like Ellie seemed to be. 

You already understood them. Understood them in the little moments – the way Joel hunched over outside the old couple’s house, his shaky voice when the group from Jackson had cornered you three, how he silently stared at the way you and Tommy interacted. 

He was afraid of fucking it all up.

And though it didn’t feel fair––you were always afraid of that same thing, but it never made you abandon Ellie––you understood. Just like you always did.

Joel’s jaw tightened and a frown settled onto his face. “I’m – ”

Ellie’s voice cut through from her doorway. “Why’re you still here? If you're gonna ditch us, ditch us."

Joel looked between you two, both expressions unreadable. He'd never seen you two look so alike before. 

"What exactly did you hear?" he asked Ellie.

She ignored him, scoffing, "You know, I stood up for you today because I thought – " She cut herself off, voice cracking.

"I made this decision for your own good,” Joel said, softer now. “You two are better off with Tommy. He knows the area better than I do – "

"Do you even give a shit about us?" Ellie asked roughly.

His frown deepened as he answered, "Of course I do.”

He tried to meet your eyes, silently asking for backup but when he looked at you, your face was stoic. And if it had been any other moment, Joel would've been proud. Your face didn't give anything away – or at least, wouldn't have to a stranger. But Joel knew you better than that. He saw how deep the frown you were sporting really was, how your eyes had widened just a bit more than normal, likely to keep the tears at bay.

To you, it seemed like everything you two had been through, everything you’d built in the last few months, came crashing down in a single night.

"Then why are you leaving us?" Ellie asked quietly. “What are you so afraid of?" She paused for a moment, then pressed on, "I'm not her, you know? Maria told me about Sarah and – "

"Ellie," Joel cut her off sharply, his voice dangerously low. "You are treading on some mighty thin ice here."

"I'm sorry about your daughter, Joel. But we have lost people, too." 

Joel's face hardened like you’d never seen it. "You have no idea what loss is."

Your heart broke at that. For him, for the way those words clawed their way out of him. For Ellie, standing there with her fists clenched, tired of getting left behind. For yourself, because deep down, you knew exactly what Joel was like, that he was so wrapped up in his own grief that he had it in him to say something like this. 

But hearing it aloud felt like the door slamming for good. It felt like the distance between you was insurmountable. Like you couldn’t come back from this.

"Everybody we have cared for has either died or left us... Everybody fucking except for you," Ellie shot back, shoving Joel's chest. "So don't tell me that we’d be safer with somebody else because the truth is we both would just be more scared."

Joel looked between you two: at Ellie angry and shaking; then, at you, looking… defeated. You met his eyes and gave a slow shake of your head, as if to say, If you’re gonna go, just go…

"You're right,” Joel decided, a finality to his tone. “You're not my daughter, and I sure as hell ain't your dad. We are not a family. Now, come dawn, we're goin' our separate ways." 

We are not a family.

The words hit like a dagger, slicing you open over and over again. 

Maybe he was right – maybe he wasn’t your family. And when he said he was, maybe he was just trying to make you feel better.

It didn’t work.

You felt like shit now.

You felt like shit for the rest of the night, not getting any sleep.

Ellie didn’t either. You two lay facing each other in the dark, both staring at nothing. To both your surprise, it was you who let the first tears fall. 

"I just thought…” Your voice cracked. “I don't know. It's stupid. I thought maybe he'd wanna stay with us. For forever, maybe... and we could just live in this house… dream of sheep ranches on the moon…”

Ellie didn’t say anything at first. She just reached for your hand under the blanket, fingers curling tightly around yours before she squeezed three times. 

“I wanted that, too,” she whispered.

The silence between you stretched long and heavy, filled with everything you didn’t know how to say. You should’ve been comforting Ellie. Yet, all you could think was how it was stupid to think he would say. Yeah, maybe it was… but it was a nice dream.

In the morning, you felt heavy. Not just tired from the lack of sleep, but heavy, like the weight of last night had settled into your bones overnight, leaving every movement sluggish.

Packing your things for this last leg of the trip felt mechanical. You didn’t bother being quiet as you shoved supplies into your pack, each zip and buckle loud in the stillness of the empty house. Not that Joel was inside anyway – you’d heard him leave an hour ago, likely not wanting to see you off.

It was all so unceremonious, anticlimactic. You’d thought leaving would feel different. 

Outside, the air was cool and damp, the ground slick of last night’s snowfall. Tommy waited for you and Ellie on the front porch, already geared up. His rifle hung across his chest, his face tight with something between concern and guilt. Ellie trailed a few paces ahead, shoulders hunched, silent.

“Hey,” Tommy began gently, noting the way yesterday’s warmth had drained from you, leaving something colder in its place. “I’m sorry.”

You slung your pack higher on your shoulder, meeting his eyes with a steadiness that didn’t really feel real. “You don’t have to apologize for him, Tommy. You’re not your brother.” 

Something shifted in his expression – like you’d given him permission he didn’t know he needed, like he was waiting for someone to say that to him all his life. His mouth parted slightly, jaw slackening under the weight of your words. You recognized that look – knew what it was like to live with that kind of pressure. 

“Still,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion despite his efforts to bury it, “you don’t deserve that.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So instead, you stepped a little closer to him as you walked, the faint brush of your sleeve against his grounding in a way that words failed to be.

The stables smelled of damp hay and leather, the sharp tang of horses lingering in the cool morning air. Two horses were already saddled and waiting, their breath misting in the chill. And beside one of them stood Joel. His back was to you, shoulders curved inward as he secured a few last-minute supplies to the saddlebag. 

A flicker of something twisted in your gut at the sight of him, though you couldn’t untangle it. Anger? Sadness? Relief?

Ellie was the first to speak, gaining his attention. "You came here to say goodbye or something?" she muttered, her voice rough from the lack of sleep. 

Joel’s head lifted, but he didn’t turn around right away. “No,” he said eventually. “I came here to steal another one of these horses and go." 

"I woulda gave you one anyway," Tommy offered from beside you, his voice softer now.

Joel finally turned, his gaze skimming over Tommy, then Ellie, before hesitating to land on you. And when it did, he looked away again just as quickly, jaw working, unreadable. He turned back to Ellie. 

"Anyway, that was 30 minutes ago, and I guess... you deserve a choice. I still think you two would be better off with Tommy – "

Ellie cut him off with a sharp shove of her duffle into his arms. "Let's go." 

It seemed she had made her decision.

And so had you.

Whatever you felt about Joel in that moment––rage, betrayal, disappointment––it dimmed beneath the quiet fire in Ellie’s eyes. If she wanted Joel with you, then he would come. You could suck it up and go along. For her.

"Okay," Joel confirmed, his voice raspy and low as he finally dared to meet your gaze again. This time, you held it. You didn’t look away as you stepped forward, taking the reins of the nearest horse. His eyes searched your face for forgiveness, or maybe understanding. You weren’t sure what he found.

Tommy walked beside you as you led the horse out into the morning light, the crunch of your boots on gravel filling the silence between you. “You okay with this?” he asked carefully, glancing at Joel behind you

You exhaled, a humorless huff. “Gonna have to be.” 

He sighed, frustrated. You reached out, palm pressing briefly against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath the layers of fabric, grounding both you and him. “It’ll be okay, Tommy,” you told him, quieter now. “We’ll be fine… And if anything goes wrong, at least you’ll have a reason to escape your communist utopia and come after us.” 

Tommy huffed a laugh, shaking his head, but his smile bloomed slow and wide across his face. He helped you mount the horse, steadying your foot in the stirrup, his hands strong and sure. “Come back when it’s over,” he said softly, more plea than order. “This commune sure could use a few extra hands to help around.” 

You leaned down, reaching for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “We’ll be safe,” you promised, though neither of you dared guess for how long.

With Tommy’s help, Ellie climbed up behind you, her arms wrapping instinctively around your waist, cheek pressing into your back. 

You two thanked Tommy before guiding the horse––Orion––toward the front gate. Joel followed on his own horse, trailing a step behind, lingering a little longer with Tommy before finally nudging his mount forward to catch up.

And then you were off, the wilderness stretching ahead of you, the gate creaking closed behind. The weight of the morning pressed down on all three of you, but still – you rode on.

.

.

.

taglist: @orcasoul @lizlil @littleshadow17 @joeldjarin @mrsyixingunicorn10 @luvwanda @escaping-reality8 @hoddystark @mmkkzz @victoriaholland @xodilfluvr @ilovetoomanymen @21tao @mystickittytaco @keileighr @buckyandlokirunmylife @deesparticus @underchaos @keepingitlokiii @silas-aeiou @underchaos @tjohn63

[orionremastered]

hi! I was wondering how the bats would be with a reader who is disabled or has prosthetics? they're all just very protective of people they care about since...everything, and how maybe that could start to feel sufacating at some point? Or something, idk dude

(also-the way you write is realy cute and sweet for all of them, makes them feel a lot less heavy when they have someone to hold them <33)

Masterlist

Batboys with a Disabled S/O

Dick Grayson [Fully Deaf]

A gentle touch on your shoulder prompts you to slowly turn around, a smile stretching across your face when you realise your boyfriend's back from work.

You pull him into your arms, threading your fingers through his hair. Pulling away reluctantly, you give him a kiss on the tip of his nose.

But he's not smiling; only a sad smile that makes you tilt your head in a silent question.

Don't worry about it, he signs. Have a good day?

You nod, though your frown remains when he moves to the kitchen, always adamant that he cooks whenever he's home. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, frowning at the caller ID and puts the phone on speaker as he begins cooking.

Dick gets more and more angry as the conversation goes on, his hands waving wildly around the small kitchen, only stopping to return to the cooking.

Finally, he hangs up. You tap him on the shoulder and he turns, watching as you sign;

Who was that?

Dick's shoulders raise and drop. A case I'm working on. I'll figure it out.

You nod slowly, satisfied with his response.

Jason Todd [Fully Blind]

Mornings with Jason always start like this. They always start with you gently running your fingers across his face, mapping it out and imagining it in your head. Over his nose, his lips, his stubble.

"Did you clean the apartment?" you ask, lying on top of him as your guide dog sits next to you on the mattress. "I almost knocked one of your guns off the counter yesterday."

"I did," he murmurs. You rest your fingers on his lips and feel that they're stretched into a smile. "I'm sorry for letting it get messy."

"That's okay," you reply quietly, "Ollie picked it up before it hit the floor."

Ollie, your guide dog, makes a huffing sound beside you, causing you both to chuckle.

"Good boy," Jason says proudly, feeling him shift underneath you, mostly likely to pat Ollie.

"You're both good. Too good, maybe."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jason asks.

"Hmm."

Tim Drake [Classical Ehlers-Danlos syndrome]

"Love? Can we go for a camping trip on the weekend with my friends?"

Tim turns his head slowly as he sits in his study chair. He taps the pen he's holding against his lips. "What happens if you get exhausted?"

"We can go back to the tent and rest."

"You can get bruises. A lot of bruises," he frowns, gesturing for you to walk to him. You comply.

"That's fine, they're just bruises," you respond, sitting on his lap. He begins gently drawing shapes on the bare skin of your thighs.

"You could dislocate something," he says to you, quieter now.

"You know how to put it back. You do it for me all the time."

Tim's brow furrows at the reminder of having to put back in dislocated joints more often than he'd like. "Fine. But if you even start to get a little tired, you tell me. Okay?"

You rest your forehead against his and murmur, "Okay."

Damian Wayne [Prosthetic Arm]

"I'll take those—"

"Damian, I love you, but I can put shopping bags into the car just fine." This and many similar conversations have been going on practically since the start of your relationship. And while you do find it endearing that he cares, sometimes you just want him to treat you like you didn't lose your right arm in an accident.

The man scowls. "But—"

"I'm not going to hurt myself, really."

He watches you warily, weighing the outcomes of the situation. "Fine. Only the lighter ones."

You suppose it's better than not being able to do any of them. Still, he watches you like a hawk as you put the lighter ones in the back of the car he bought you (you protested but that man has the most selective hearing).

He closes the trunk/boot after the bags are inside.

"Can I drive?" you ask, hoping you'll get luck there too.

"No."

"I know how."

"No."

[bitchface24-7]

Hi this is my first time requesting a story so please bear with me (my first language isn't english)

Can you make a jayvik fic when they are in the lab struggling to crack open a code or an ecuation and reader (preferably male or gn) disides to help them and they find out reader is really smart or even smarter than them but they barely help out because they are just a lazy potato

HIDDEN GENIUS - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: you’ve always been great in school. Barely studying, amazing grades, and your teachers loved you. If only you participated a but more in class. A prodigy is what they’d all call you. But you’re burnt out. You’re tired of all the expectations, so you’ve taken a backseat in academics. Until your two boys are struggling, and you could easily help them.

warnings: fluff, pre-established relationship, V and J stressed tf out and here you are cutting up an apple to eat, you help them… eventually, teasing, banter, Grammarly as my beta

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m

p.s. As a burnt-out gifted kid myself, I hope this is relatable. Also, I've been eating apples like crazy these past few weeks, so y'all are having some now too LMAO

This is a lot shorter than my average writing. I'm just trying to get back into my groove. So I hope y'all still enjoy my small blurbs ❤️

Your boys are stressed.

It's easy to see.

Jayce is pacing, running his hands through his hair and muttering in irritation. Viktor just sighs every once in a while and swears under his breath.

The chalkboard is dusty, due to the amount of time they've redone their calculations. It’s a mess. Jayce's clothes are ruffled and Viktor has chalk all over his hands and a bit on his face.

They're completely drained.

You slowly look up toward the board as you finish cutting up your apple into slices, the core left onto the paper towel on your desk. Your eyes scan the board quickly— and you immediately see where they've gone wrong.

“You forgot to equalize the equation. Also, is that a negative sign or a smudge of chalk on the board?”

Viktor and Jayce stop their crash out and slowly turn to look at you, Jayce looks bewildered, Viktor looks feral.

The slight man whips back around and half-hazardly fixes the equation. His arm tense, the chalk clicks against the board in a gross way that makes you cringe; but Viktor’s on a roll. He's not gonna stop.

When he's done, he slams the chalk down into the holder, breaking it in half. Jayce looks away from you as you crunch down onto an apple slice and sees what Viktor’s done.

He fixed it.

He fixed it!

This stupid equation that's been kicking their ass for far too long has finally been solved— and they weren't the ones to do it.

You were.

You solved it as you enjoyed their suffering. As your feet were casually crossed at the ankles as you munched on your apple slices like a child. Jayce kind of hates you right now.

He definitely loves you right now.

“Why haven’t you helped us out until now?! My god… so many breakdowns and crash outs that could’ve been avoided if you helped us…” He questions rapidly, his tone rising with each statement.

You just laugh, “I enjoy watching you two suffer. You look so pretty.”

Jayce's mouth drops and Viktor huffs out a small exhale from his nose, “Sadist.”

“Only for you two, my love.”

You casually munch on another apple slice as your boys look at you with fond exasperation. You're kind of an asshole, but you're their asshole.

They're definitely going to bother you more often now that they know you’ve kept your brain from them.

Viktor looks gleeful as he tells you this, you groan, and Jayce just looks lovesick.

“You're a sadist too Viktor! Damn you!”

A dark hum is all you get in reply, “I never said I wasn't. Should I not use all the tools in my arsenal?”

“Is that all I am? A tool?”

“You're the prettiest one I've got. Neck and neck with Jayce. I'd say the two of you are tied.”

Viktor just continues to work on the blackboard as you and Jayce gape at him.

Damn.

He got you good.

(Guess you'll be helping them out after all huh?)

AHHHHH I've been in the biggest writer slump recently. So I hope y'all enjoy this tiny piece. I may do more bullet form fics since they help my flow in writing. I'm not too focused on the fluffy stuff and get to give you the meat and potatoes of the story. Xoxo love y'all ❤️

[dreamsteddie]

They have ants.

They must be new. Eddie's never seen them before.

It feels strange, almost, to see them in such a nice house. Sacraligous. Like people who have homes like theirs are somehow immune to the little insects. Like they know not to bring such a mundane issue to the wealthy.

There were ants at the trailer. Not all the time, Indiana spent more of its year in winter than summer, the little guys slumbering away inside their nests under their plot of land until it became warm.

Eddie's never given them much thought until now. They were just a thing. A small, mildly annoying thing that happened.

He watches as they make their way across the windowsill and down onto the white countertops. They bump heads, trading information back and forth, heedless of Eddie standing right there. They don't care about him, they probably don't even see him, too focused on whatever little morsel they've found to think about whose house they're invading.

The front door opens, clicks shut.

It's only 1:08 in the afternoon. No one should be home yet, but they both are.

"Eddie?"

"We have ants." There are strong arms wrapping around his waist. Warm air tickling his ear.

"Oh, yeah, I guess we do." Steve knows when not to ask. It's why he left the studio. He couldn't listen to Robin ramble and try to pry his feelings out of him right now.

"We've never had ants before. I wonder what they found." He says, voice hollow, eyes blurring as he pushes back the tears.

"Don't know. Probably not worth it, though," Steve says, because he gets it. He always hears what Eddie isn't saying. Even when he's saying a lot already.

They stay like that for a long time, both of them watching the little worker ants crawl along their walls. Steve rocks them back and forth, just a little, as the sun moves slowly through the frame of the kitchen window.

"I thought it was over. I thought they buried it." Eddie finally breaks the silence. Lets himself break the seal and think about it. Lets himself forget the ants and remember the past.

"I did too."

Eddie knows that if he turns on the TV, he'll see it. Headline news. The gruesome death of a kind girl from a nowhere town in Indiana. A manhunt for a 19-year-old boy. A complete lack of supernatural reality or ensuing serial killer coverup.

It had all been destroyed. It was supposed to be destroyed; it was part of the deal. Burn all of the newspapers and the wanted signs and the police reports before they can leave the destroyed borders of Hawkins, rework the story while the town is too busy rebuilding to notice or care.

Give Eddie his life back.

But something survived the purge. Just one little thing, and somebody found it.

Maybe they were looking, maybe they weren't. It doesn't really matter in the end because once one of them finds it, the whole network knows where to look, where to find more.

"How can you get rid of ants, Steve?"

Sigh, clench, release.

"I'm sorry, babe. You can't."

[womanofwords]

Silver Swan (Part 11)

Neglected!fem!reader x yandere!batfam

You cooled it as Silver Swan while you were being watched. You weren't an idiot; you knew they were following you in the hopes of finding Silver Swan. You just had to stick to a routine while they had their eyes on you and then they'd lose interest.

"So this is the fabric store she goes to for so long," Dick said, disguised as a nerdy-looking guy in a sweater vest and large glasses. "She just walks straight in, and . . . stands at the counter?"

"She must work there, idiot," Jason scoffed.

"She looks happy there," Steph said. "She's . . . smiling."

"She never smiles at home," Duke said. "And Y/N never mentioned a job."

"Y/N never mentions anything," Tim scoffed. "Then again, we never talk to her. She's always up in her room, sewing little bears or whatever."

"Bears . . . just like the bears that Silver Swan was seen giving to people that was filled full of money she stole from the fundraiser!" Damian gasped. Cassandra hit him.

Give it a rest, she signed. You're obsessed and we're sick of it.

"Focus, guys." Barbara's voice came over their disguised comms links. "We have to see if Y/N comes into contact with anyone who could be Silver Swan. Make sure to watch for people in high heels, because any one of them could be Silver Swan in a civilian identity."

"She's probably waiting for someone vulnerable to seduce." Stephanie's stomach contents rose up her throat like mercury in a thermometer. "Y/N would be perfect for that. She'd give the clothes off her back. She said it herself."

"We just need to know a little more about her so she stops clinging to this idea of Silver Swan being so . . . perfect!" Duke said, vibrating with rage. "We're better than that lowlife! She just flies around looking kinda cool and had two high-profile stunts! What could she possibly know?"

"My identity," Damian said.

You could have heard a pin drop. "Silver Swan . . . knows who you are?" Jason hissed.

"She was so infuriating to go up against, and . . . I said too much," Damian admitted. "What if she finds Y/N because of me? I've doomed my only blood sibling!"

"What the hell did you say? When was this? Why would you engage Silver Swan on your own?" Dick yelled.

"I wanted to stop them!"

"And now Y/N's in danger! She doesn't even know what sort of danger she'd be in from Silver Swan because she's in some sort of dazed crush on her! We need to be her role models so that she can't be lured away from us like the little children after the Pied Piper of Hamelin!"

Your siblings spent the rest of the day watching you, growing more and more jealous with every second. You never smiled like that at them.

You never hugged them.

You never took the time to point out their hair being askew or buttons undone.

Damian began frothing at the mouth when he saw you scoop up a small child off the floor and guide him back to his mother. Why couldn't you be this gentle with him? Why did you not show such affection to him?

"You are such a sweet little boy," you said to the toddler. Damian wanted to throw that toddler into traffic.

You wandered into a cafe and ordered quickly, standing around waiting for your order once you had paid. Was that your regular order? Do you normally go here? Did you meet friends here?

"There'll be so much stuff for us to look at when we're at home," Tim said. "School records, tapes, maybe even a diary."

"I know," Stephanie said. "Just . . . let me keep watching."

"Sure," Jason said, as he watched you eat alone. "Just to make sure they're safe."

"Of course," Duke said.

*_*_*_*_*_

"Are you sure you want me to eat lunch with you?" you ask, as your siblings offer you a slice of cheese pizza. "I can make myself something."

"You shouldn't be alone, Y/N." Damian's voice was cold and clinical. "Humans are social creatures. Social interaction is vital."

"Are you feeling OK, Damian? You're . . . not being yourself," you said.

"I feel fine." Damian brushed off your concerns while being elated that you had worried about him. "Now, please eat with us."

You sat down and ate, perched on the edge of your seat. You could feel eyes on you, observant eyes that took in every detail of you.

If you were really going to have them on your back, they might as well be useful.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11 <- You are here

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Taglist: @tinybrie, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @simpingfor-wakasa, @kittzu, @simpingpandas, @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @galaxypurplerose, @wisefuncherryblossom, @vanessa-boo, @deathbynarcisstick, @sirenetheblogger, @asillysimp, @toxicvoidsstuff, @kneelforloki, @trashlanternfish360, @tsxukikami.

[thbbie]

༄ husband! hiromi x gn! smut writer!reader (,sfw/suggestive)

hiromi doesn't watch pornography. he finds it tacky and tasteless. the artificial lighting, scripted dialogue, exaggerated moans, none of that appealed to him in the slightest. (his dislike for it was only cemented by what he's learned about the industry through his line of work)

instead, when he his needs become too much to ignore and you're away from one another, higuruma reads. he reads erotic stories written online by self proclaimed amateur writers that write some of the best things he's had the absolute pleasure to read.

hes followed countless accounts over the years, showing his support in their comments while he remains hidden safely away behind his keyboard smash username, something hardly coherent he made while horribly pent up on day long ago.

one account though, stands out as his favourite; the writing raw and alive. it turned him on like nothing else imaginable when he reads the words imagining it was you he was holding instead of his phone.

some of the things mentioned stories could feel so familiar, too familiar. it's all just coincidence of course. the way the dialogue sounds so much like you when imagines you saying it, the words spilling softly from your parted lips.

but lately, things feel.. different. you've gone out with some of your friends and hiromi knows he shouldn't but the urge that overcomes him is not to get comfortable in bed to read but instead to snoop around your computer. you spend so much time on it as of late, typing away so intently.

you wouldn't cheat, it would be dishonest and unfair, you are neither of those things. there's nothing to worry about but to quell his own mind, he still finds himself opening it up and typing in your password.

for a moment, he's scared you might've changed it. shit that would be a sign right? would that mean somethings going on? more images of the worst fill his head and just as quickly they're pushed aside when the device unlocks. good!

hiromi lets out a shaky breath, before getting to work, finding what's been keeping you so preoccupied and away from him — and then he does; the webpage of his favourite author. do you read them too? it looks different from your screen though.

he feels his heart pounding in his throat. pounding because he knows snooping is wrong, pounding because of his new found discovery. hiromi scrolls more on the open page, filled with short sentence long ideas and longer half finished pieces — the drafts.

he keeps going until he finds a piece with named characters, one with your name and one with his own.

it's too much to be a coincidence.

there's a feeling of relief as he rolls through, the worst of his thoughts not having been realized and for that he is infinitely happy, but also there's something that follows. something teasing, maybe even a little mean.

oh, how much fun he's going to have with you.

hiromi scrolls back to where you left it and closes the computer, humming to himself gleefully, doing the best to contain his grin while he ventures into the kitchen to get some chores done while your gone; the original plan (what he was supposed to be doing)

you come home a few hours later, "hiro? i'm home!" as you're taking your shoes off at the door to make your way inside. you find him drying and putting away dishes, "welcome back darling, how was it?" "mmm, it was good. you smell nice" wrapping your hands around his waist with your face buried in his strong back. "yea?"

"mhm. so so good" your voice is heavy laced with sleep. as much as he would like begin putting his evil plans in motion, your wellbeing takes precedence always. the man coos at you soft, lording the hold you have on him so he could turn to face you.

both of hiromis hands come to cup your face, their cooler then you would have expected when you first got together, but the touch is always welcome. you find immense comfort in the feeling of them, soft strong fingers holding your warmed cheeks.

"you tired love? yea? poor thing. come on let's get you ready for bed hm?" he gathers you in his arms, carefully carrying you up the stairs to your shared room. hiromi carries you into the attached bathroom, setting you down on the sink. he begins undoing your hair, and wiping away the remains of your makeup, washing your face, and applying the steps of your skincare to your face meticulously, gently massaging the skin of your face. the comforting cool of his hands lulling you further, your drooping eyes no longer fighting yo stay open.

he asks if you're alright with him changing you as if he hadn't done it countless times before, hiromi still asks, he always does.

when he gets your confirmation, he hums as he begins undressing you, sliding the adorned fabrics off your body and replacing it with the more comfortable material of his worn cottan shirts. it fits you like a dress, the hem brushing over the upper part of your thighs.

hiromi tucks you into bed, planting a kiss against the side of your head (not in your face you he just did your skincare, he doesn't wanna ruin it) he stays there, just watching for a moment with so much adoration in his eyes while you drowsily drifting off somewhere he cannot be with you. he twirls a piece of you hair in his hand,

"goodnight my love" dream sweet. dream of me.

hiromis plans will have to be rescheduled it seems.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Omggg I need more Peter Steele smut cause that man is so fine and I feel like he would have the darkest sexiest fantasies ever 😩

A/n: The ending kinda sucks booty cheeks bc I gave up on it don't hurt me

Warnings: Smut, breeding kink, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Tiddies 🤤

You and Peter, your fiance, had been together for a few years. You were used to the looks you got with him, you were short to most everyone, he was tall to most everyone, by a lot.

He was known to be this big, scary giant of a man with a deep booming voice, but in the sanctity of your own home he was quiet and gentle.

Peter held you while you slept soundly, letting you cuddle up to him with an arm wrapped around you, his other hand trailing down your side. "So beautiful." He murmured, you began to stir but kept your eyes closed and leaned into his touch, not ready to be awake yet.

Peter's hand moved over you, rubbing and squeezing occasionally before finally landing on your stomach. He let out a soft sign and pushed your shirt up, spreading his open palm over your stomach.

"Peter?" You asked, voice soft but hoarse. "What're you doing?" Your mumbled, rolling over into him.

He kissed your forehead and shook his head dismissively. "Nothing to worry about, I was just thinking." He muttered, deep voice rumbling in his chest. He wrapped his long arms around you and pulled you closer, letting you nuzzle into him.

"Thinking about what?" You pushed, smiling softly up at him, still not really awake.

He couldn't just not tell you anything, you'd find out one day or another, it wasn't something he planned on keeping from you. He brought a hand up to your face, cupping your cheek and running his thumb over the plush skin. "Thinking about you... how pretty you are, and... how you'd look carrying my child."

Your cheeks lit up at that, you were definitely awake now. "Peter... we've never talked about kids." You said.

He nodded in agreement. "So we should, I want kids, at least I want to see you with kids."

"We have cats."

"And the kids would love the cats."

"And if they're allergic?" You asked, making him think for a minute.

"Shoot 'em, I don't know." You smacked his chest and rolled over so your back was facing him. He pulled you back, keeping you pressed against him, obviously you weren't pulling away from him. "I'm just kidding." He assured, kissing up the back of your neck.

You let out a soft sigh, watching his hand wander back to your exposed stomach. You held your hand over his, smiling softly at the thought. "Kids..?" You asked again.

Peter nodded against you and kissed closer to your ear. "Our kids... Penelope and Hash." You looked back at him, a look of terror and disgust on your face making him laugh.

"I am not giving you kids with those names, what the fuck." You said with a chuckle.

"Alright, alright... I'll let you pick the names." He rolled his hips into you, you gave a small hum and reached back between the both of you and felt his half-hard cock through his sweats.

"You know what the best part of trying for a kid is?" Peter hummed for you to continue, grinding himself into your palm, hold on your tightening. "Making them~" You purred, pulling your hand away from him and pushing your shorts down.

Peter was quick to help you get undressed, moving to lay between your legs and flipping you onto your stomach while you giggled. "People say there's a higher chance of getting pregnant if you cum first." He said between kisses.

"Does it help if I'm on my stomach?" You asked, looking back at him and holding yourself up on your elbows, watching him get closer to your glistening cunt.

"No idea." He said. "But you're not gonna be on your stomach for the next few months, might as well let you enjoy it while you can." You were gonna say something, joke about not wanting to go through pregnancy, but his tongue was already dipping into you.

You'd never been too fond of this position, when he was fucking you fine, being on your stomach wasn't bad, but when he was eating you out... He never had any complaints, he was also the one putting you like this.

You didn't get much time to think about it as he slid a finger in you, quickly followed by a second as he scissored them in and out of you, curling them deep in you just where he knew you'd like them.

You pushed your face into your pillow, moaning as he finger fucked you, still kissing up and down your thighs, nipping at the sensitive spots.

Peter pulled his fingers from your hole, you whined at the sudden emptiness, clenching helplessly around nothing. Peter sat up and brought his fingers to your mouth, pushing them in and making you taste yourself. "That's just the start, sweetheart."

He adjusted his pants and pulled his hard cock out, all eleven inches hitting your ass with a little slap. You pushed your ass back into him and he rolled his hips against you, a low groan leaving him. "Hurry up." You pleaded when he pulled his fingers from your mouth.

"I'm going, just like taking my time with you." You felt his tip brush through your folds, gathering your juices and using them as lube so he could push into you. He went slow, giving you a break every few seconds to adjust until he bottomed out in you.

You melted into the sheets, relaxing and getting used to the feel of him, knowing in a moment he would pull his hips back and slam into you.

Just as you predicted, he slowly pulled out of you almost all the way before pounding into you, setting a harsh pace. He let you hold your pillow but moved it so your moans weren't muffled, echoing off the walls as he split you in two.

"So loud." He said through grunts, mouth right by your ear. "How're we gonna fuck if we've got little ones running around?" You whined, clawing at the sheets. His hand came down on your ass, the other one holding your hip and keeping you in place. "Answer me."

"I-I don't know..." You mumbled, pushing your ass back again. Peter's hand met your ass again, rubbing the stinging skin afterwards.

He let out a chuckle, a grumbly sound. "We'll kick 'em out." You whined into your pillow, hiding your face. Peter lifted you up a bit, hitting impossibly deeper. You looked down and saw his cock pushing against your stomach.

Soon you'd be all round and swollen with your kid, waddling around with Peter behind you.

[aestrayla]

cherries or peaches? ft. obey me! brothers

summary: do they prefer ass or boobs? ft. obey me! brothers x f!reader

cw: highly suggestive, mdni, fluff??, pet names (darling, sweetheart), fondling, groping, MY HUMOUR..

word count: 1.5k

a/n: sorry for some of them being so short, it was actually kind of challenging trying to elaborate on the ideas rather than just plainly stating them out as they are, but i hope u still enjoy them just as much as i enjoyed writing them ^^ also, don't mind my shitty humour in the last two + i haven’t written for most of these characters before so they might sound off idk??

at first, it was hard to tell whether lucifer preferred ass or boobs.

he would always reply to you with a, "i prefer them both, equally," or a, "why should i choose when i can like them both?"

it drove you crazy because you clearly asked him to choose either one or the other. he was always dodging the question and at some point, you even got the brothers in on this, some bets were made too.

"it's obvious he likes ass more, have you seen the way he looks at y/n when they're wearing that skirt he bought for them?"

"nah he totally like boobs more, he can't keep his eyes off ‘em whenever they're wearin' a tight shirt!"

soon you started to take these signs into account, wearing much more revealing things to try and catch a reaction out of him, but to your demise, he never seemed to crack.

after weeks of bet-making and skin-revealing lucifer had finally had enough. the two of you were both lying in bed, facing one another while his arms were wrapped around your waist.

"y/n," he whispered.

"mhm?" you hummed in response.

"isn't it obvious i like these better?"

he pulled himself closer to you as his face buried against your chest. oh you thought. he had always found comfort sleeping against you like this, his head stuffed between your boobs while his arms wrapped around you tightly, that it became natural and you had almost forgot he did it.

"shit— you should've told me earlier! now we've all lost our bets to mammon!" you whined.

you could hear his muffled chuckles vibrate against your body as you wrapped your arms around his head, squeezing him closer.

mammon is 100% an ass-loving guy, no questions asked.

with mammon, no matter what you're doing, what you're wearing, where you are, or who you're with, he just loves touching you all the damn time.

whether you're walking through the halls of RAD to your next class or taking a stroll through the devildom while window shopping, he won't hesitate to sneak his hands up your skirt to feel your plump ass.

"mammon stop, we're in public!" you glare as you swat his hands away.

"’m sorry can't help it, just gotta have my hands all over ya!"

oh well, maybe next time he’d be lucky enough to sneak his hands further down your skirt and— who knows, you might just find yourself begging him for more.

and if it's just the two of you in your own company, you'll always find that his hands like to slip past the waistband of your panties just to lay onto your cheeks, rubbing and squeezing at the plump flesh. always smiling in delight as you squirm under his carnal touch.

as much as you like to complain, he always swears that "it's just comfortable!" or "my hands were just cold!"

there is no doubt in my mind that leviathan wouldn't be on team cherries.

he always lets you sit on his lap whenever he's grinding a video game or on an anime-watching marathon. a recent occurrence you've taken note of is that, almost as if it's a reflex, he'll always end up having a hand or two resting on your boobs, casually squeezing at it as if he owns the thing.

"you must be real comfortable there, levi." you teased, motioning to where his hand laid.

"huh— OH! um, I-I'M SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO!" he shot his hands up in defense. "it's just really soft… and warm... I'm sorry y/n." his face was bright red.

"it's fine, i was just teasing you, silly!"

there was also a time where you scolded levi for owning one of those mouse pads where ruri-chan’s the characters boobs would be squishy.

in desperate need to make it up to you, he custom ordered a version with you on it, only because he swears out of all his waifus, you're his absolute favourite.

it was a rainy night, and in the comfort of the library beside a crackling fireplace, you were messing around on your d.d.d while satan was next to you, reading what you assumed to be a mystery book.

"hey satan?" you put your d.d.d down for a moment, turning to look at him.

"hm?" he hummed, while keeping his eyes glued to the page.

"do you prefer ass or boobs?"

he pauses to look up at you and closes his book, placing it beside him, all while sighing.

"what does it look like i prefer?" he deadpans.

you break his eye contact as you look down to see his left hand buried under your sweater, which was fondling with your boob this entire time.

"so... boobs?"

he replies while picking his book up again, "yes darling, don't ask such foolish questions."

asmo loves boobs. your boobs to be specific.

don't blame him, your boobs are just so pretty and he loves pretty things.

the way they sit when you're wearing a low-cut garment, or the way they shine when you're having a bubble bath together. he loves it all.

as you know, asmo loves pampering you and surprises you with random gifts whenever he finds something that he'd love to see you in.

one night as he's doing your hair after a bath, he suddenly remembers something and stands to walk to his closet.

"the other day when i was shopping at majolish, i found this super pretty bra i thought you'd look just gorgeous in!" he approaches you with a box wrapped neatly with a ribbon.

as you open the box, you set your eyes on a beautiful red laced bra.

"are you sure i'd look good in this?"

"you look perfect in everything sweetheart, you know i’d never lie about that."

he's always buying you pretty things to wear, and trust me when i say, this definitely isn’t the first bra he's ever gotten you.

beel could not care less about choosing between your ass or boobs. they're both squishy and feel nice in his hands so it didn't really matter to him. well, not until today.

getting up from the edge of the bed and turning your heel to face him, you asked, "did you know a new cafe opened up in the devildom recently?"

"really? what food do they sell there?" he asked, his eyes looked as if there were stars in them.

"well apparently their cakes are a specialty, they're pretty popular for it."

"cake?" he drooled, "i love cake! hey we should go to the cafe right now, i'm starving." he sat up from the edge of the bed, drooling like a puppy dog.

little did he know, you decided to be a little jokester today.

"oh you're starving right now? then here," you turn around, bending over.

"what are you doing y/n?"

you turn your head back to look at his confused expression, "you said you were starving right? the cake's right here," you pointed to your ass.

he stares at you for a moment. then at your ass. then back at you again.

"so there's no cafe, is there?" he wipes his drool away with the back of his hand.

"nope. but there sure is cake," you smile cheekily while shuffling closer.

he sighs while grabbing ahold of your thighs, dragging you just inches away from his lips, "you're lucky i like this kind of cake too."

as long as he can sleep on them, belphie will like them no matter what. so when it comes to choosing between your ass or boobs, it can be a hard decision just to choose one.

belphie's "sleepability" criteria is: soft, warm and comfortable; and your boobs and ass were equal competition.

he sighs, "if i have to choose one over the other, i'd rather sleep on your ass all day" his reasoning being because your ass has more of an "even surface" compared to your boobs.

if you're ever just lounging around the house of lamentation, on your stomach specifically, within seconds you'll feel belphie's arms wrap around your legs while he lays his head onto you.

its crazy how instantly he falls asleep on you. he'd stay like that forever if you didn't have to get up to pee or because your legs fall numb.

"c'mon belphie, i needa pee so bad!" you squirm.

"mmmphh," he grumbles, half-asleep, while hugging onto your legs even tighter.

"hurry up or i'll fart on your face!" you threaten him jokingly.

"OKAY, OKAY!" he shoots up from his position and is scrambling to the edge of the bed. you laugh in response because it works every time.

"and i was having a good dream too!" he scowled, while rubbing his left eye from sleep.

looking for pt.2? you can find it here ♡

©2023 aestrayla. do not modify, copy, translate or share.

[myeyebagsaredesigner]

I feel like as much as the bats tell each other to focus on their health and make sure to recover, they're all very quick to dismiss their injury if they feel something else is more important. Usually, an injury is dismissed for something completely unimportant.

Dick: Got mugged on the street in civvies and is limping down the street. He passes by a shop window and sees a very elegant looking tea set. He immediately thinks of Alfred and decides to go buy it, completely ignoring the fact that he's very beaten up at the moment. Alfred thanks him, but tells him to worry about his injuries first.

Bruce: Hops out of the batmobile to head over to Alfred and get his multiple bullet wounds stitched up. Damian comes up to him and before he can say anything, he shoves a drawing his way. Bruce looks at a picture of him and his youngest son and immediately goes to hang it up on the fridge. Cass walks in to find him staring at it with a smile, so she redirects him back to the cave.

Duke: Heading back from patrol with a major concussion and a broken nose. He overhears some kids outside an arcade talking about how Dance Dance Revolution is lame, and he immediately goes inside to prove them wrong. The kids are in awe, not only because the Signal is there right in front of them, but because he's freakishly good at DDR. Oracle is very worried because he was supposed to sign off a while ago, and sends in Spoiler to go get him. She joins him in DDR for a round, but makes him leave after.

Jason: Stumbling into the cave with a twisted ankle, concussion, and a knife stuck in his side. He isn't expecting anyone to be there, and is surprised (not really) to find Tim sitting at the bat computer. He hobbles over and Tim tells him about a case he's working on, and he thinks it's interesting so he pulls up a chair to sit and figure it out. Eventually, Tim looks in his direction and freaks out at the amount of blood pooling on the floor, but Jason seems to have forgotten why it would be there.

Damian: After a run in with Joker's henchmen, he and Batman are walking back to the batmobile to get back to the cave. He has a dislocated shoulder and a couple deep cuts. He hears a meow and quickly turns around to go pet this flee infested street cat, and Batman has to agree to let him keep it before he gets in the car.

Tim: Walking back from a fight that left him with a couple broken fingers and a rapidly swelling eye. He sees Jason's next door neighbor and remembers what he had told him about the annoying things she does and that she's referred to as 'the karen' of the building. He follows and watches her, trying to get dirt that could be used later. Jason goes home to find Tim sitting on top of his building, and joins him to start shit talking the neighbor.

Babs: Got threatened out on the street and ends up with a broken hand, preventing her from rolling her wheelchair with ease. She gets out her phone to call someone, but gets a twitter notification. She clicks on it and finds that Bruce has posted something completely stupid and now she needs to share this to every platform she can. She's adding it to her Google Doc of dumb things the bats do on the internet when Dick finds her on the sidewalk.

Steph: Heading back to the cave from a patrol with a fractured arm, extreme whiplash, and a swollen knee. She's passing by a group of girls who are shit talking their ex husbands, and is intrigued. Batman manages to pull her away from the gossip circle eventually, but only after she exchanges numbers with the girls to be updated.

Cass: Has a sprained ankle and a bullet wound in her shoulder, and is going to get it patched up, but she sees Alfred set out a warm plate of cookies and figures it can wait. Damian complains that she's getting blood all over the cookies, and Duke saves her some while she goes to get medical attention.

[omgfangirlland]

I think I just fell in love with 🫀 anon. Wanna be friends with them so bad frfr

-🔱

🫀 anon is very nice! And we just got another anon that I think you'll love adding to the Ben10!Reader (:

Sorry, I got distracted with an itch for Sims 4 due to watching a Sims builder make some nice houses and went down a custom content rabbit hole 🫠🫠

There's a reason Bruce is shaking and pale- but let's go back a bit.

After you left, Martha and Thomas were sure soon enough someone would notice, maybe not Bruce, maybe not even Alfred, but surely a kid would. The kid did- true- but they just thought you moved out, after all, it wasn't like Bruce was out and proud of you- hell, the man didn't even rectify the rumor that you were dead.

And Martha and Thomas started acting out. They're ghosts, flashes of what they were once upon a time, they're holding on out of desperation and anger, and all they felt right now was that. Desperation and anger.

It starts small, things they knew they could do without exhausting themselves, right? Moving that, drawing that with ketchup, flickering the lights. But the more they do that, the more powerful they get. Rattling all the furniture in the bed, letting them hear their cries and words, appearing in reflections for seconds.

Around this time, Martha goes after the man they hired, and Alfred becomes robotic in his duties, disassociating, as he realizes the scream he heard that day wasn't your mother realizing what she was doing, it was Martha. He thinks of how lucky you were that day, but the thought of checking on you doesn't even cross his mind.

And when Thomas appears in Bruce's dreams, bloody and choking as he cries, Bruce breaks. "How could you? She was just a baby!" Bruce wakes up, barely breathing while he stumbles out of his room, the room seemingly spinning and closing in as he trips over his feet towards your room. And then he stops, and so do the walls. He doesn't know where your room is.

Chaos ensues as the man goes to Alfred and then his other kids, asking them for help in finding you- Bruce almost collapsed when half of his kids don't even know who you are- and then he calls John. For an exorcism and a tracking spell.

As your name leaves Bruce's and his mom's lips, it takes a while for John to finally connect the dots. Jaw-dropping, realizing you lied to him about having no ties to Bruce Wayne. He should have know better by the way you had paled and your boytoys straightened.

John immediately refuses, saying that you were in- he choked on his words- good hands, protected by an actual angel, the biblical kind, and friendly with the current king of hell. Thomas Wayne wasn't having it tho'.

Now, your siblings, to various degrees, feel some kind of guilt, while the ones who didn't even know of your existence are furious. By everything they know, your mom is insane, tried to kill you, and then Bruce proceeded to ignore you like you didn't just exit the newborn stage. Damian felt that anger- due to Bruce marrying your mom and not his, due to not actually being the firstborn, due to there not even being a sign of your existence.

And after Constantine gave up fighting, Damian started. Yelling, throwing tantrums, being the emotionally unstable kid he is. Dick and Jason were quick to restrain him and move him away, letting Bruce and John carry on while they did everything in their powers to keep him quiet, and away from a staby incident.

Of course, John passes on every word of disappointment, anger, and even disgust the two dead Waynes have, even throwing in some of his own opinions and simply shrugging at the dead woman's glare. Due to Bruce, he'll have to grovel for a long while to get Sam and Dean to trust him again. If he wants to call Bruce a few choice words, he will.

I don't know how Reader would interact with the siblings, mainly due to me seeing her as someone who'll just teleport to another country at a glimpse of a thought of her "family" after being forced to interact with Bruce and Alfred.

You know what would fuck Bruce up, extra hard? Reader having a baby or toddler, specifically a boy that looks like him. Faints on the spot. (I'm not writing that btw, it's a cute thing to imagine Dean being an anxious dad, but I'm terrified of pregnancy and the idea alone makes me nauseous... But, yk, just throwing out the idea)

Martha and Thomas are just happy to see you again... even tho Martha is judging Dean hard.