#I hope hurting the land doesn’t hurt tommy

[aro-throughyourchest]

more loci tommy au things (credit to @sunlitmcgee for the AU) sorry for the last post

Had a thought train about Techno where because now he can never say Anything bad about tommy because Tommy will just hear it he actively brings weedwhackers everywhere (let me explain)

The first time he’s just like “you mean I finally don’t have to hear his voice? after all this time?” a bunch of burrs and stickers grow around his ankles and latch onto him that take AGES to pluck out

the second time weeds start growing everywhere nonstop and you hear Techno screaming “TOMMY STOP” as he’s driving his sword through about 3 feet of thistles

And now his solution isn’t to stop, but to come prepared.

[traveler-at-heart]

The Doctor's In

Summary: Billy Maximoff sustains an injury and Wanda comes to you, her neighbour who happens to be an ER doctor.

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

For @esposadejoyhuerta - hope this week is better to us <3

Tired.

That’s all you are. You don’t even know how you manage to get home, dragging your feet through the door and dropping your bag next to the couch.

Sleep or eat?

You look between the kitchen and sofa, and the view of the cushions and the blanket you left there is far more attractive than the prospect of food.

Sleep it is.

Dropping face first on the couch, you sigh, excited at the idea of sleeping for the next few hours, until your next shift at the hospital.

You close your eyes, and don’t know how long you’ve been asleep until a desperate knock wakes you.

“Who is it?” you say, scared by the sudden noise.

“It’s Wanda”

You relax instanty, sighing with relief. Though you don’t speak regularly to your neighbours, Wanda is by far the nicest.

“Is everything ok?” as soon as you open the door, you can see her disheveled state and the fear in her eyes. “Wanda, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Billy had a little accident in the stairs and he’s in pain, I didn’t know what to do and remembered you’re a doctor”

“Come on” you let her lead the way, opening the door. As soon as you enter you can hear Billy’s cries and Tommy by his side. The boy is sitting at the bottom of the stairs, holding his right arm.

“Hey, Billy. Wanna tell me what happened?”

“It hurts” is all he manages to say.

“May I examine you? You can tell me if it hurts a lot or only a little, yes?”

The boy nods, trying to calm down as you inspect his arm. At a certain movement, he flinches, and you sigh, turning to Wanda.

“He needs an X-Ray”

“Ok, I’ll take him now”

“Why don’t I drive you?” you say, thinking it might be dangerous for Wanda to get behind the wheel when she’s in so much distress. The woman nods, and you help Billy up, making sure he doesn’t move his arm.

Wanda sits with both boys in the back of your car, her hands going through Billy’s hair to calm him down.

“Sorry about the mess” you say, looking at all the junk you had in your car.

“It’s alright” she says, looking a bit more relaxed. “I’m sorry for making you drive us, you must be exhausted”

“I don’t mind at all”

You look through the rearview mirror, Wanda smiling softly and you return the gesture, feeling a bit flustered.

“I thought I told you to go home” Chief Fury says as soon as you walk through the ER.

“Uh… my neighbour’s kid got into an accident so”

“Alright, then” his threatening glare softens as soon as his eyes land on the woman walking behind you and her two kids, Billy in a wheelchair.

“He needs an X-Ray, I didn’t see signs of a concussion or any other injuries”

“Admit him, get vitals and go to imaging. Ma’am, you can wait here while Dr. Y/L/N checks on your son”

“Can’t I go with him?”

“I’m afraid not”

“It’s alright, I won’t leave him alone” you squeeze her hand, pushing Billy to the X-ray room.

Luckily it’s empty when you walk in, the technician setting everything up quickly.

“I thought your shift ended” Darcy says and you shrug your shoulders.

“Shit happens”

Billy laughs and your eyes widen, forgetting you were around a child.

“Uh, maybe don’t tell your mom I said that, kid?”

“Hey, don’t do it for free. Get something in return for your silence” Darcy intervenes and you want to smack her. But Billy keeps on laughing as you argue with your friend, and it’s nice to see him smiling after being in so much pain.

Darcy whistles as soon as you look at the image of Billy’s fracture.

“Clean split”

“Yeah, he got lucky”

You figure it’s better to ask for an Ortho resident to help with the cast. Darcy keeps Billy company while you go talk to Wanda.

“Hey” you sit next to her, offering a cup of coffee you brought from the machine.

“How is he?” Wanda asks, looking at Tommy, who is sound asleep in the chair next to hers. You motion for her to stand up to talk without waking him up.

“Billy broke his arm but won’t need surgery. Just a cast for a few weeks and then we can remove it”

“I’m such an idiot” she curses and you’re taken aback by her outburst. As a trauma surgeon, you had seen your fair share of ugly situations, so a cast was one of the best outcomes all things considered.

“I shouldn’t have let them play, but it was late and I figured they just needed to run a bit more before they got tired” she goes on, hand running through her hair. You can see the tears pooling in her eyes.

“Hey, hey, stop” you place your hands in her arms, waiting until she looks at you. “Blaming yourself is not helping at all. Listen, kids get hurt playing, it’s practically a rite of passage. And I know it sucks and it’s scary but Billy is fine and I’m always around for anything, ok?”

“Ok” she nods and without thinking, you pull her closer, hugging her. Wanda rests her head on your shoulder, her scent pleasant and calming. You rub circles down her back and she relaxes.

“Thank you” she says, her hands still on your waist. You can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks, even in her disheveled state and your eyes travel to her lips.

“Dr. Y/L/N?” a resident approaches you, clearly hesitant to interrupt.

“Yeah” it takes you a second too long to look away, making Wanda blush.

“Billy is all set up” she informs you. “If Miss Maximoff filled out all the forms he’s good to go”

“Yeah, I did” the woman nods next to you, picking up her things and waking Tommy up. The resident leads you to a room where Billy is waiting for his mother. Tommy runs up to him and admires his cast, looking at the material in his brother’s arm.

“Here” you say, adjusting an armsling for him to rest. Signing his discharge and picking up some pain meds, you lead the Maximoffs out of the hospital.

By the time you park in your driveway it’s 2 AM and you have to be at the hospital in less than 12 hours.

“Come on sweetheart” Wanda tries to wake Billy, but you stand next to her and offer to carry him all the way to his room.

You’ve known Wanda for almost two years now but had never gone inside her house. As you carry the boy upstairs, you notice all the family pictures and drawings that the twins made.

“Sleep tight, little man” you say, moving aside so Wanda can remove his shoes and tuck him in. “Let me know if you need anything, ok? I’ll be home until noon”

“Oh, actually, can you wait a second for me? I’m sorry, it won’t be long”

“Sure” you nod, going down to the living room.

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion or Wanda has an incredibly comfortable couch, but as soon as you sit there, you relax and drift off.

By the time Wanda tucks in both boys and comes downstairs, you’re fast asleep. The woman smiles, your features soft as you catch up on much needed sleep. Wanda pulls out a blanket and drapes it over your body, hoping you’ll finally be able to get some rest.

—

It smells amazing.

The scent of fried bacon and butter makes you open your eyes, your stomach suddenly very aware that you forgot to have dinner last night.

Looking around, you realise this isn’t your house, but it still takes a minute to remember everything. Wanda, the twins, the hospital.

“Morning” the woman says when she sees you looking confused; the way you rub the sleep off your eyes makes her heart flutter.

“Wanda, hey. Sorry, I crashed in your living room. I’ll get out of your way now”

“I’m making breakfast. I bet you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday”

“Well…” you rub your neck, stretching. You fold the blanket and walk to her, your mouth watering at the smell of everything.

“Orange juice?” she offers.

“Yeah, thanks” you take the glass. “Can I help with anything?”

“You’ve done enough, Y/N. Come on, sit. Enjoy”

You smile sheepishly, grabbing pancakes, bacon and some jam. The first bite is so good, you let out a loud moan.

“Sorry” you blush, Wanda biting her lip curiously at the sound you just made. “These are like the best pancakes I’ve ever had”

“Thank you” she sits across from you, drinking coffee and resting her chin on her hand. “Do you have to be back to work soon?”

“Yeah, in a couple of hours. I’ve got surgery and gotta make the rounds on some patients from yesterday”

“You work too much” she admonishes in her mom voice and you laugh.

“I’ve heard that one before”

“Your boss?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t have any family here and all of my friends are at the hospital, so it’s better than being home alone doing nothing”

“Not all of your friends are at the hospital” she says with a shy smile and you nod, appreciating her words.

“What about you? Anything interesting going on?”

“Aside from Billy and Tommy being pure chaos? No, that’s enough for a lifetime” she laughs, and it’s honestly the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

“They’re really sweet kids. It must be hard work but you’re doing amazing with both of them, Wanda”

“Thank you” she looks down at her cup of coffee and you nod, eating the rest of your food in silence.

Wanda is about to say something else when your pager goes off.

“Oh, great” you mutter. “My surgery’s gonna be earlier. Gotta hurry up”

“Chew your food!” Wanda scolds when you began to put everything in your mouth.

“Sorry” you say, trying to slow down. Wanda rolls her eyes. “Can I at least do the dishes?”

“Fine” she concedes, and shows you where everything is. “You better eat before your surgery. Or I’ll pack you lunch”

“I promise I’ll eat” you say, rolling your eyes. Once the dishes are done you pick up your stuff and walk out the door, Wanda close behind. “Let me know if you need anything? Billy might have some discomfort but the meds should be enough. But either way, call me”

“I don’t actually have your phone number” she says, making you frown.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Here” You take out a piece of paper from your pocket and scribble on it. “Anything at all, call me. Even if I’m in surgery, I’ll make sure one of the nurses answers for me”

“Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Those pancakes were heavenly. Thank you”

It’s hard for you to say goodbye to Wanda, but you hear the twins calling and decide it’s time to go back home.

The woman gives you a nod and you reach out, squeezing her hand. You feel warm as you go back to your place.

To be honest, you’re hoping Wanda calls you, for more than just a consult.

[pedgito]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐘 — two: first to lose | Joel Miller x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

chapter summary | Left to your own devices in the cabin with Joel, you lean toward other means of entertainment and a game over food leads to more than you're expecting.

author's note | beta'd by my lovely jo (@jolapeno) who i originally undertook this idea with. it has been really hard to focus lately, but i am itching to work away at my wips and this one has been sitting around for a while unedited. we're in a rut right now, but powering through.

chapter warnings | 18+, early outbreak, age gap (early 20s, mid 30s), morally grey!joel with trust issues, tommy is buffer, sex games, fingering, oral (m receiving), mentions of hunting and animals, joel is only softer when he's exhausted, they're both sore losers jsyk (more to come on that)

word count —4.2k

SERIES MASTERLIST, PLAYLIST, AO3

“There’s more out there,” Tommy says over your canned dinner, huddled around the fire in the living room as Joel stuffed his mouth full of beans, his conscious distance from you not going unnoticed. You were less layered, more comfortable, stripped down to your jeans and a tank top, your socks stuffed into the boots placed beside the couch, “I think another trip tonight and we’ll be good for at least a month, it’ll give us time to plan.”

“For?” You question, taking the last bite from your bowl before shoving it aside.

“Gotta find a QZ,” Tommy offers in response, “can’t survive like this forever.”

Joel seems less than hopeful, his eyes flickering away from the conversation and toward the fire. And Tommy, oblivious to the events that had transpired in his absence, doesn't address his brother’s pessimism. He’s learned to work around it, listen to his older brother when he sounded reasonable, and remain amicable around the rest of it.

He knew Joel’s tendencies, but found ignoring them was easier than bringing up the issue.

“Can I tag along this time?” You ask curiously, those pleading eyes falling on Tommy.

He chuckles, his spoon clanging against the ceramic as he shakes his head, halfheartedly as he speaks around the food he was chewing in his mouth, “I can handle it, kid. Besides, someone’s gotta keep an eye on Joel.”

You tense at the mention of his name, forcing a soft smile. Tommy doesn’t suspect a thing, wouldn’t even have the inclination, but the look of disdain Joel offers to you both stings.

“It’s a long drive, probably a couple days,” Tommy nods his chin up toward his brother and kicks at his foot, the boot scuffing against the wood, “you can teach her how to hunt while I’m gone.”

Joel doesn’t respond immediately and Tommy presses, leaning slightly to obscure his brother’s glare at the wall across from him, eventually Joel nods but it was entirely unconvincing and Tommy shakes his head in amusement, disapproval crossing his face as he chews at his bottom lip.

“Don’t hurt each other while I’m gone,” Tommy jokes, “alright?”

You smile half-heartedly and spin your knife on the barely standing end table to your left, “I can behave—right, Joel?”

Joel grunts, barely an acknowledgement at your expense as he walks between you two and lands on the couch, kicking off his boots over the edge and allowing himself to get comfortable, forearm slung over his eyes as he shimmied his shoulders down until he was comfortable.

“We’ll be fine.” You tell Tommy softly and he nods, looking at his brother with a brief frustration.

He could take you with him, he knows that. But, he’s almost fearful that Joel would run off in the middle of the night, that Tommy would never see his brother again. Losing Sarah had taken a toll on both of them and while Joel tried his damndest not to show the effects, Tommy feels them lingering. You were the most rational out of all of them, despite your inexperience and hesitancy to fight for yourself, your emotions were in check. For the most part.

You could be the perfect little watchdog Tommy needed.

But, in the back of your mind, you knew Joel was in command. It had been that way from the beginning; the dutiful little brother, the helpless young girl who had nowhere to go. It just worked.

Tommy departs with a nod, chuckling quietly at the already snoring Joel on the couch to your left. And you sigh with your own creeping feeling of exhaustion taking over, falling back against the balled up coat on the floor and finding yourself drifting to sleep eventually too. 

–

You wake up in a different spot, feeling the rigid but somehow softer fabric of the couch under your body as you roll over, peeking your eyes open to the blinding light. You groan quietly, stretching out tense limbs as you spot Joel. He’s leaned back in a chair, feet propped up in another as he flicks away at a solid chunk of wood, knife gripped in his hand.

“That’s mine,” You grumble weakly, spotting the weapon in his hand. His eyes flick up briefly, a chuff of acknowledgment from his nose has you squinting in his direction, “—you didn’t ask.”

Joel squints in response, flipping the knife in his hand until the handle is facing out, offering up the knife to you. You rise slowly, feeling slightly wobbly on your feet as you approach him. He brings the knife back toward his chest as you reach for it, “I think you’re forgetting, it was mine.”

You snatch it against his weak grip, too irritated from the lack of decent and comfortable sleep to argue, tossing it away on the couch as you round the dining table, peering through the slip of curtains covering the window, spotting the pile of burnt and charred bodies outside the window.

“Why did you move me?” You ask idly, dragging your fingers down the silk curtain, watching a few drops of rain hit the window before the trickle becomes stronger, followed by a low clash of thunder.

Joel stares at the chunk of wood in his grasp, fiddling with it until he slides it on the table, speaking to you nonchalantly as he stands, “You looked uncomfortable,” Within a few second he’s at your side, looking out the window at the incoming rain storm, “besides—you kept tossing and turning, once you were on the couch it stopped.”

“Oh, so I was disturbing your sleep,” You snark at him, turning your head to look at him. He mimics the movement and chuckles lazily, nodding in agreement, “add it to the list, I guess.”

“Of?”

He’s feigning cluelessness, watching the rain take on a stronger current as it pounded against the roof and you speak absently, “So, hunting is out of the question?

Joel’s arm rises to rest against the wall beside the window, hand tucked at his hip, “No. There’s still plenty to hunt ‘round here, if you have enough patience.”

“Well, I’m hungry.”

“Well, that’s an issue, ain’t it?”

For you, yes. For him, no.

He knows you don’t have the first clue what to equip yourself with, what animals to look for and your head turns, peering up at him curiously with the beginnings of a too sweet smile gracing your features.

“Not happenin’, don’t even ask.” Joel tells you, your smile immediately falling as you step away.

Whatever intensity had lingered the night before—the adrenaline from the attack, was gone.

Joel looks exhausted, conveys it in the slow and tired blinks he aims your way. He’d given up sleep to allow you to get rest, sacrificing his own without outwardly admitting it.

He’s only now starting to regret it as his head pounds, attempting to work through his exhaustion but feeling it catch up on him in waves, “We’ve got a can or two left to pick at, try that.”

Your face contorts in subtle disgust, “We need meat. Beans and peaches can only get us so far.” Joel doesn’t hear your complaints though, departing for the couch with a hand rubbing at the back of his neck, tense and knotted up muscles causing a deep ache in his back. He falls to the couch and throws his head back, allowing a few minutes to pass where he feels himself drifting into a slumber with his large hand rubbing at his forehead, thumb and middle finger digging into his temples as he nurses a headache, only looking over at you when the couch dips under your weight.

“Rock, paper, scissors?”

Joel huffs at that, knowing that only you could find how to pull the levity out of a shitty situation. 

“I’m not—” Joel shakes his head, his hand falling to his lap, “We’re not doing that. It can wait until the rain clears up.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

There was no way to tell, really. It was all an educated guess, the darkened clouds hovering overhead letting you know that it didn’t have any plans to leave quite yet.

Joel doesn’t offer a response, his head tipping back against the back of the couch with his eyes closed, his hands resting in his lap as he shrugs his shoulders and settles, you tilt your head curiously.

“You seem tense,” You tell him, “like—more tense than usual.”

Admittedly, he was restless too. But, unlike you—he could fight it. 

All that energy, nowhere to put it toward.

There’s so much silence, a thickness in the air that lingers as his own gaze on you does. He’s become used to studying you; upset, worried, irritated—he’s got it all down by now. Although, he had one that stumped him hard: want— but, he seemed to be picking up on the cues, noticing the look on your face as your lip pulled between your teeth in absent thought, tilting your head at him. You’re staring at his exposed skin, the scruffiness of his jaw where he’s allowed his beard to grow out. 

“Fine,” You sigh, noting his stubbornness, “what about a game?”

He doesn’t like the way the word slips from your lips, noticing how much closer you’ve gotten. Your knees pressed into his hip as you slowly worked your way over, legs tucked under your ass. Joel’s eyes narrow before they relax, turning away with a grunt of indifference.

“Impossible,” You mumble under your breath, “look—either I go out there and risk my ass or you do it for me. It’s late, I’m hungry,” And, as if on cue, Joel’s stomach growls too, “and so are you.”

Joel relents, watching his chest rise and fall in one heavy breath, “What game are you talkin’ about?”

You could think of something on the fly, although Joel has done everything but touch you since the night prior—because if he did, he was doomed. So, you make the first move.

Your finger drags along his open flannel until it catches on the first button it finds, the rest of your hand slipping under the fabric and noting the lack of undershirt. He must have taken a layer or two off at some point, unbeknownst to you. His skin is warm under your hand, his chest hair soft against your fingertips.

Joel grabs at your wrist but doesn’t take the step to move it away—a warning. Stay still, don’t go further. He’s looking at you by then, eyes wider and more present and darker around the edges than usual, icing out the warm brown.

“Whoever loses goes hunting,” You suggest, “sound fair?”

“That still doesn’t explain the game,” His fingers tightening around your wrist, feeling your quickened pulse under his touch, “besides—you also don’t know shit about hunting game birds.”

“I can manage, Joel,” You argue, “can’t be that hard to kill a fuckin’ duck.”

Joel chuckles at the thought, a subtle smirk pulling at his lips and his cheek dimpling with the expression. He can appreciate the confidence, the stubbornness that you carried with every word.

“Rules?” Joel inquires again, a smile creeping its way onto your face as he takes the bait.

“You come, you lose.” It really was that simple. 

Besides, it was a better way to pass time than tense, uncomfortable silence. Sex could be easy–detached, emotionless, and fun. Something you desperately needed right now.

Joel is quiet for a while, longer than you’d like. The gears are turning in his head, his eyes trailing slowly over your frame, like he’s dedicating it to his memory, before they fall upon your face. His softer around the edges like this, still guarded, but less…vengeful. 

Fuck it, he needed this.

“I hope you can manage huntin’ on your own,” He taunts, earning a squeal of laughter as his fingers dig into your side and pull you to him, your leg swinging over his lap in time with his movements, “‘cause I don’t lose.”

Neither of you bother with anything other than your jeans, wrestling against each other’s confines and flicking open buttons on deft fingers, wiggling them down your legs and off as you leave his lap for a millisecond before he’s pulling you back to him with his hand wrapping around the back of your neck and squeezing, pulling you back far enough that you can see his opposite hand dip to your cunt, thick digits pressing against your clit as your eyes flutter shut.

While you expect intensity, his movements are torturously slow. Slow circles with his thumb against the sensitive nub while his middle finger teases your hole, clenching around the emptiness that yearned to be filled. He only grunts when you wrap your hand around his cock, hardening under your touch as you squeeze, jerking him to full attention.

Joel was a mystery still and you’re working out what he likes as you move, noticing the way his face twitches when you drag your thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the small dribble of precome at the tip as you rub, noticing the way his jaw tenses at the motion.

And you want to watch him, study him. But, his fingers are making it near impossible. Your sated sigh turns into a pathetic whine as he slips a digit inside of you to the first knuckle. It wasn’t nearly enough to quell the growing ache in your core, but then his teeth are on you.

Not his lips or his tongue—teeth digging into your collarbone as he pulls you to him, one large hand pressing against the center of your back and you hiss, cunt pulsing at the tinge of pain it allows but then his tongue is soothing over the marks his teeth left behind, lazy kisses following as he repeats the process along the expanse of your chest and eventually biting into the side of your neck as his fingers circle your clit quickly. 

Your opposite hand digs into his shirt at his waist, crumbling the material in your hand as you hand moves against his shaft quickly, hurried. It didn’t help that you couldn’t think, foolishly you expected to have the upper hand but it was easy to forget how quickly Joel could cloud your mind and rid you of any coherent thought besides want. And with that, Joel adds another finger, sinking them deeper inside of you

“You’re not even puttin’ up a fight,” Joel taunts, “I can feel that pussy squeezin’ around my fingers.”

You gasp, the heat in your gut swirling around as you try desperately to regain control. Your forehead drops against his shoulder, feeling pitiful as you moan and move your hips in time with his efforts and Joel chuckles beside you, so quiet you almost miss it. 

He’s amused clearly. It’s a taunting laugh, no deeper meaning than a ‘gotcha’. Because he did, he had you so wound up against his touch that you couldn’t think, making this game an easy win on his behalf. 

“Let me—let me suck your cock, I wanna—” You beg weakly, rambling incoherently, “—this isn’t fair.”

“You rules,” He retorts, “can’t go switchin’ up on me now, just ‘cause you’re losing.”

You feel the spiral coming, his hot breath against your neck as your hips jerk and the pressure builds. There was no use fighting it, giving into Joel’s selfless touch and his dirty words, moans growing in volume and intensity as he brings you over the edge with a satisfied remark.

“That’s right,” he declares with a deep growl, “go on, give it to me.”

The lewd sounds of your slick as he presses his fingers inside of you a few times as you catch your breath are enough to make you shove him away, too ashamed to allow him anymore satisfaction as he wipes his hand away on the inside of his flannel and reaches for his jeans, his eyes tracking the frown on your face as you settle into your own clothes again.

His fumbling with the button on his jeans as he leaned back, adjusting them better on his hips as he speaks to you, “I’ll be back in an hour,” he tells you, your eyes flicking up curiously despite your silence, “—you’re still hungry, right?”

If anything, you were ravenous now. 

“But, I lost.”

Joel shakes his head in amusement and slight disapproval, a smug smirk pulling at his lips.

“Either way, I was still goin’ out there,” Joel tells you, adjusting his still half-hard cock in his jeans and your gaze pulls down, unconsciously reaching for his arm but he shakes it off, standing on his feet, “—game’s over, I won.”

“But, you didn’t—”

Joel unravels his sleeves where they’re bunched at his elbows, buttoning up the loose buttons on his shirt before he’s wandering, reaching for his jacket folded over the back of a chair, effectively ignoring your attempts at returning the favor. He clearly didn’t care, so neither should you. 

He already seemed satisfied enough by the look on your face, knowing you were overconfident in the moment and hoping to knock him down a peg, but that had backfired. He considers a thought for a moment, knowing it was a bad idea. But, he wasn’t one for good, thoughtful choices as of late.

“Next time,” He offers quietly, tucking a knife away into his coat pocket and slinging the cheap bow over his shoulder, “keep quiet—shouldn’t take long.”

The words come as a shock, any inclination or acknowledgement toward your weird arrangement was enough to make your eyes widen in surprise, but you mask it well. Joel leaves without another word, braving the pouring rain for a desperate meal. It had been a long time since you’ve had a decent, filling meal. A handful of canned food a week, spread out sparsely to keep the three of you just on the edge of satisfaction. It wasn’t the best way to live, but it was all you had. 

The lighting cracks through the sky and is followed by a low, booming thunder that shakes the entire house as you sink into the couch, waiting anxiously for Joel’s return.

-

You can’t be accurate, but it feels like Joel returns right on time.

The storm had dissipated to a steady rain by now, occasionally fading into a soft trickle. He’s nearly drowning, but two ducks richer as he slaps the dead game on the table and slowly strips himself of his damp clothes, struggling with the sopping wet layer of his flannel. The fire was a welcomed warmth, his eyes closing as the floor creaked under your footsteps. He feels you hands before he sees you, helping him silently to unbutton his shirt.

It was harder to undress like this, the layers sticking heavily to his skin. When his flannel is unbuttoned you reach for his jeans, taking them to the sink to squeeze out the excess water before you lay them out in front of the fire, hoping it would be enough to dry them by morning. 

You repeat the process as he discards the layers, a silent chore to busy yourself while he strips to his underwear, not nearly as wet as the rest of his clothes but he hesitates, knowing he had an extra change of clothes in his pack.

He decides against it, finding that his hunger was far too persistent to allow him to go any longer without eating. He nods toward the already skinned and prepped animals on the table.

“Let’s eat,” Joel suggested, “before we ended up starvin’ to death.”

You weren’t going to argue, fetching the ducks off the table and presses them into Joel’s waiting hand, watching as he knelt down in his underwear and reached for two pokers resting in the holder besides the fireplace, situation the soon to be food onto the iron rod before he’s resting them directly into the flame.

You fetch a couple blanket off the couch as you watch, tossing one silently to Joel that he accepts with a nod, his eyes following you as you took a seat across from him, staying quiet as he turned the food a few times, allowing it a hopefully full cook—not that you could complain about eating slightly raw meat at a time like this.

The meal is messy but delicious, wiping your fingers against the blanket wrapped over your shoulders and licking away at the juices left behind and Joel mirrors you, devouring the food without a thought. It feels oddly domestic when you forget about everything happening around you, belly full as you set the iron rod aside and settle deeper into the cover.

You watch curiously, like a cat, while Joel rises to clean up the mess. His movements are slower, his stomach slightly fuller now that he’s eaten but it still amazes you at his broadness when the blanket drops to the floor. He strips out of his underwear without any acknowledgment, tossing them alongside the other slowly drying clothes and begins to depart for the bedroom, stopped by your hand scrambling for his wrist as you appear beside him.

He hadn’t even heard you move, wondering how you managed to keep so quiet. You’re startled by the warmth in his face, his gaze dropping to the fingers wrapped around his arm. His other hand is cupping himself, attempting some layer of decency but you’re only looking at his face.

“Tommy won’t be back ‘til morning,” You remind him, “how about a rematch?”

Joel doesn’t answer for a moment, feeling your stomach flutter with a disappointment you’ve never felt, but then he’s surging forward, fingers curling into your hair and tipping your head back as he kisses you, forcing in a sharp breath as his other hand mirrors and presses you backwards, guiding you toward the bedroom rather than the couch. 

His lips don’t leave, guiding you toward the mattress that was covered in a curtain Joel had ripped from its hinges. This kiss isn’t gentle, driven by lust and a need to keep you quiet. Joel finds it impossible to think around you sometimes and shutting you up was the easier route. So, it wasn’t genuine but it was needy, desperate. His tongue licks into your mouth as his hands trail down your body, lifting at the back of your thighs until you’re seated on the bed, level with his cock and eager to redeem yourself.

You pull at your top that Joel is itching to remove, his fingers tucking under the end of it and pulling up before you’re grabbing at his cock, dragging your tongue along the side and under, tracing the tip of your tongue along the vein that ran from base to tip, taking the thick girth of him into your mouth as you peer up, finding that he was staring right at you, eyes half-lidded and cloudy in the darkness but it was there. Admiration, a crack in his facade. He hisses under his breath when the tip of his cock presses against the back of your throat, repeating the motion until your eyes string with tears, trading your mouth for your tongue against as you circle it around the head.

“Up the bed,” He coaxes, gently pulling you away with a hand pressing against the front of your neck, a frown of disapproval thrown his way, “go on—up.”

You don’t argue though, crawling back on your hands as he tugs at your jeans, removing them alongside your underwear and leaving you in a complete state of undress alongside him. The clothes pile on the floor and Joel climbs over the edge of the mattress, prowling toward you slowly as you breathe consciously, comforted by the spread of Joel’s hand over your chest, his fingertips tickling the center of your throat.

“What’s the prize this time?” You ask softly, terrified that speaking too loud would spear the thick cloud of tension surrounding you both, “We never established that.”

“We can figure it out later,” Joel affirms, allowing the hand at your chest to trail down your stomach, to your core, fingers dipping inside of you again without warning, “when you lose.”

His confidence is attractive, but the smugness only infuriates you further. 

And with full stomachs, nearing the edge of exhaustion, you find that the delirium hits you both faster than you’re expecting. The pace is slow, exhausting—tantalizing and teasing touches that drag you both along the edge for far too long and you can’t tell if Joel’s doing it on purpose, bringing you so close to the end before letting you slip back, but eventually it happens by accident.

You flip him to his back when he’s distracted, his cock trapped between your stomach and his own as you grind yourself against his thigh lazily, his eyebrow pinching together at the surge of the sensation that hits him and he comes without warning, painting his stomach with the spurts of cum that spill from his cock with a low groan in his throat, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“You lose.”

Your voice is distant in his ears, but he chuckles quietly at your words.

By then, you’re both too tired to move and fall asleep as is, pressed against his chest as his cum dries against your skin and surely you’ll both regret it come dawn, but for now, sleep consumes you.

[dorkydiaz]

CAN I GO WHERE YOU GO? 920 words | bucktommy | 7x06 coda a/n: look it me! i wrote something :P just a soft little thing that i couldn't stop thinking about <3 idek how long it has been since i published something episode related lol so be kind and gentle if you please<3 title is kinda just what fit best lol, enjoy!

Buck twirls his niece around as music plays quietly over a speaker, barely loud enough to hear over the quiet chatter. He swings her up and deposits her next to her newly-wed parents, and they look perfect. Buck remembers the reception of her first wedding, his cheeks didn’t hurt from smiling then, they do now, and by the looks of it so do Maddie’s. 

“You might want to–” she points toward the chair in the corner that holds his beast of a boyfriend, a bottled water coming dangerously close to slipping from his exhaustion-induced slack grip. 

“I should get him home, the adrenaline has worn off. I love you both so much, and you,” he ruffles Jee’s hair and leans in for a group hug, placing a kiss in his sister's hair. If he thinks too hard about everything he might cry, so he leaves unsaid and squeezes her tight hoping she understands. 

He takes the water bottle from Tommy’s hands and stands between his legs, gently cupping his cheek, “Hey, you are exhausted, let’s get you home. I’ll drive you.” 

And Tommy looks up at him through his eyelashes– how had Buck not noticed those before now? 

“You don’t have to– you should stay here. I’m sure Maddie–” 

“What she wants is for me to get you home safely, and visiting hours are almost over anyway.”

He can see Tommy trying to come up with a rebuttal, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to say something and then gives up.

Buck grabs Tommy’s turnout coat from the back of the chair, folding it over his arm and taking Tommy’s hand in his. 

“Congratulations again you two,” Tommy says as enthusiastically as he can before they turn toward the door.

—

Buck is awkwardly sitting at a table in the common area of Harbor. It feels weird to be in another station without his reason for being there within sight. Tommy had assured him that it was okay for him to sit, and if anyone gave him trouble to tell them that he was there with him. 

“Buckley! What are you doing here?” a familiar voice nearly makes him jump out of his seat. 

“Lu-Lucy! Hi.” 

She stands behind the chair across from him, leaning on her elbows on the top of the chair. And she actually waits for him to answer. 

“I-I’m waiting for Tommy. Had to swing by to drop off his turnouts and get his bag.”

Her brow crinkles a little and she cocks her head, “his shift ended hours ago?” 

“He uhhh, he came to Maddie and Chimney’s wedding. He’s pretty exhausted so I’m driving him home.” 

“He went to a wedding after that fire? In his turnouts?”

“It was at the hospital, wild story really. And I asked him to be there, so he was.” he blushes a little as he watches her do a little math. 

“Donato! Are you bullying Evan?” Buck can hear the smile on Tommy’s lips as he feels his hand land on his shoulder. He looks up at his boyfriend, and Tommy leans down, giving him a light kiss on his cheek. He looks a little brighter after rinsing off in the station showers and changing back into his Henley. 

“I was wondering why you had table privileges,” she smiles. “So, Chim finally got hitched huh, tell him and Maddie congrats for me.”

“Will do,” Buck smiles at her, and she walks away toward what he assumes is the snack cabinet. “Let’s get out of here and you into bed huh?” 

“You read my mind.” 

—

There’s a stillness in the car as they sit in Tommy’s driveway. 

“Evan, come inside. You’ve had a long stressful day too.” 

It’s like Tommy is inside his head, he doesn’t want to be alone tonight, not when he didn’t have to be. 

“And if the texts you sent me last night are any indication, you also did it all while hungover which I’m sure wasn’t all that pleasant. And, besides, you still owe me at least one dance.” 

“You are practically falling asleep sitting up and you want to dance?” 

“It’s what I was promised.” 

TOmmy reaches over the console between them, turning Buck’s face toward him, leans in and kisses him in earnest. Not quite as intense as their greeting earlier and not as gentle as their first. “Just come inside please,” he says just above a whisper against his lips. 

“Okay.” 

—

Buck takes in Tommy’s little house, it’s cozy with some of its years showing. 

“You can move past the entryway Evan. Just take your shoes off.” 

“Oh,” he replies softly, barely having noticed that he was slightly frozen. He toes off his shoes.

“C’mere,” Tommy holds out his hand, a song that Buck doesn’t know the name of softly drifting from the speakers. He lands in his boyfriend’s arms and it feels like it’s exactly where he is supposed to be. One hand on his neck, the other clasped together in Tommy’s, his other hand resting on his waist. It’s mostly quiet as they sway in the middle of the small living room. 

“You know, I never really got the whole hot firefighter thing until I saw you walk through those doors?” 

“You really are adorable.” Tommy smiles.

“Thank you for today. It means a lot that you did really try your damndest and succeeded.” He says earnestly. 

“Of course. It was important to you.” 

And Buck can’t help but kiss him for that, and he does, because he can. 

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

COD monster men

Requested: Yes. By me. I requested this cause I wanted it.

Warnings: spice, angst, blood, some fluff, Alejandro watches you sleep

A/N:

Ghost - Vampire

For Ghost, it’s all too easy to forget what he is until he’s in the heat of battle, blood on his clothes, stroking that ever present hunger that burns inside of him every second of every day. He’s afraid to be around anyone right than, his hands shaking as he licks the blood off of his gloves in whatever dark corner he can find, far away from prying eyes. He’s so so hungry, so desperate for it that he accidentally bites through his gloves, drawing blood from his own skin. It’s never good, makes his belly twist and turn til he vomits it all back up. Sometimes he’s so desperate, so hungry, that he bites himself on purpose, puking be damned. That’s nothing compared to the pain of a stomach so empty that he feels like he’s going to die, a feeling he’s felt all too much in his life, even when he was human.

And then he sees you, waddling around in army gear, approaching him cautiously, a medkit in your hands. You tell him how you’re a medic, how you need to evaluate him for injuries.

He tries so hard to get you to just buzz off but you insist on staying, so he reluctantly lets you sterilize his fingers despite knowing that they’d just be healed within the hour. But there was something soothing about the satisfied look on your face when you were done, his fingers taped up oh so carefully. He looks at them for a moment, trying to remember the last time anyone had showed him such concern and gentleness. Probably…..yes, it was probably Tommy and His Mother, from so many years ago. The 1950’s, he believes.

He looks at you, not noticing as you get fidgety the longer he stares. He…..he likes it. Your care, your worry, your gentleness. It overpowers the hunger that begs him to rip your throat out, to bathe himself in the blood that would gush from you. To drink himself so full of you that maybe he could have those things, be those things. Maybe it would soften up his insides and he could really feel things for once.

Please, make him feel something.

Soap - Selkie

The first time Soap lets you touch his seal skin, he almost has a panic attack. Years of generational trauma, of the fear of a human touching and stealing their skin, of stealing them away from friends and family, raping and abusing them. Everything in him is yelling to yank his skin back from you, to hide it far far away from your eyes. But he doesn’t. He knows you wouldn’t do that. Sweet sweet you who is so gently petting at the snout of his skin, a look of wonder on your face.

And despite the panic that he’s fighting, he decides that he likes the sight of his skin wrapped around you, almost like you’re a selkie yourself. He knows he can trust his skin around you, because you would never hurt him. Never hide it from him or tether him to the land when he wants to be in the sea. Knows you won’t commit the atrocities that many people before you have commited.

He likes the sight of you holding his skin, entrusting all of himself with you.

And, as you pull out the small black box that he hid in the folds of his fur, he hopes that you’ll entrust him with all of you as well.

König - Werewolf

König couldn’t remember most of what his first change was like, only the pain. Blinding mind numbing pain as bones broke and healed, taking on new shapes, stretching his skin and growing hair, more hair than a Sasquatch. His Oma had to explain it to him when he woke up like that one morning, mid way into his transformation, screaming and crying, praying for death because surely that would be better than this pain. His Oma shushes him, cradles him even when he begged her to go away, her warm hands on his oversensitive skin only making everything worse, driving him even further into overstimulation.

And it was the same with you now, crying as you held him through his transformation, pawing at you, trying so hard not to let his claws sink into you and rip you to shreds just to distract himself from the pain. You were so sweet to him, cooing in his ears, rubbing your hands over his fur, trying to help him. And when he looked at you in the finishing stage of his change, you looked like an Angel sent from heaven. Something otherworldly, beautiful and strong, having pity on the animal he is.

And he knew he never wanted to let you go. Never ever again. His angel.

Alejandro - Incubus

Alejandro sighs as he crouches over your pliant body, gently caressing your cheeks with big rough hands. He had waited so long to get you like this, peacefully sleeping away as he invaded your mind, showing you the most deliciously sinful images of the two of you together. Twisting and whining and crying beneath him, or even above him in a few cases. And oh, the sexual energy that started floating off of you was the best he’d ever had, only growing sweeter the longer he tormented your sleeping brain. It was such a tease, not just to you either. He had to watch you crying out under him, wanting to touch you so badly that it hurt. But he wanted your permission. Wanted you to willingly let him in so he could wreck you for anyone else. Destroy you so beautifully that you could never be put back together the way you used to be.

And when your beautiful eyes opened up, looking at him so cutely in your sleepy pleasure drunk haze, he knew that he too would never be able to go back. That you’d ruined him for anyone else, made him addicted to you and you alone. Nobody else would ever compare.

All he wants now is you. So please, let him have you.

[prentissluvr]

too cold — joel (and tommy) miller

gn!reader , (future)fatherfigure!joel (and tommy tbh) , takes place a year or two after joel and ellie settle in jackson , reader is in their mid/late teens , hurt/comfort, angst , cw : brief mentions of loss of friends and family, hypothermia , wc : 3.8K , special thanks to @piggyjeans for reading this for me and motivating me to wrap up this part and get it out to you guys !! <333

at this point, you’re beginning to wonder why you even try. you wonder if there’s a point when the scraps of any family you had left, found or biological, are long gone and you’re on the brink of freezing to death yourself. you managed a fire last night, but you’re shivering beyond control even in the daylight with your sore lack of a real coat. wherever you are, it’s cold as hell and winter is setting in far faster than you could ever combat. essentially, you’re screwed. it seems like it might snow more, there’s not a building in sight, and you’re running out of bullets and food. the cold bites at your exposed nose and takes permanent root in your bones.

night falls far too quickly, bringing the thick snow that you feared almost as much as infected or people; those you could fight, but the snow? against that you have no defense but a sputtering fire, measly shelter, and a slowly thinning sleeping bag. curled into yourself as much as you can, it takes a concerningly small amount of time for you to fall asleep.

by the time you finally come back into consciousness, the struggle to open your eyes scares you even in the muddled state of your mind. the sun is far higher than ideal; already you’ve lost precious traveling time now that your only hope is to find abandoned buildings to scavenge for supplies. and yet, the last thing you want to do is get out of your sleeping bag. it’s kept you as warm as you could be, and even now in the leftover warmth sleep, you’re all too aware of the snow that blew into the small overhand of rocks you slept underneath and the way it’s freezing temperatures will soak into your feet until it reaches every nerve of your body when you continue your trek through the forest.

but, despite that heavy question of what’s the point, there’s no way you’re going to let yourself give up and waste away in the cold without trying to save someone, even if that someone is yourself. so with every struggle, you pull your hands out from their haven in the swaths of fabric, fumbling slightly to zip open the bag and pull yourself out. you’re eternally grateful that you have gloves, but within the few minutes of packing up, the cold has already started to settle in your hands, feet, and face. begrudgingly, you swing your pack onto your shoulder and shove your hands into your pockets, looking for the most direct path to higher ground to scope out any buildings.

as you start out, it seems as though travel may not be the worst. but the thick snow from last night’s flurries and the still slowly falling flakes are quick to tire your legs from the effort, and the way that your jacket lets in too much of the numbing wind hinders your pace. you find yourself exhausted, taking moments to rest against trees that stretch into minutes, maybe longer as your mind becomes foggy and consistent shivering sets in throughout your whole body. 

you stumble a bit and clumsily grab hold of the nearest tree. what the hell am i doing? you wonder. you let your whole side press against the rough surface of the tree, squeezing your eyes shut, then opening them in attempts to clear your head. but that doesn’t seem to help when you start to wonder if you’re hallucinating. just meters away your eyes land on a tall brown horse, an animal you don’t think you’ve seen outside of pictures. you stare at it in wonder for a moment, but a feeling of panic sets in when you process the fact that there’s a man sitting on the horse, a large rifle strapped across his back.

with your shaky hands you fumble around to pull out your gun, but it does you no good when the rifle is pointed at you in seconds. 

despite the threat, the man’s voice isn’t harsh when he calls out to you. “’s alright. ’m not here to hurt you, alright? just drop your weapon.” without much resistance, you do as he says, seeing no other choice and feeling not an ounce of energy to fight back. within moments, he’s off the horse, one hand on its reins and the other put up in the air in a careful truce as he slowly moves closer to you. when he’s near enough that the snow doesn’t obstruct his view of your face, he can see the way that you’re shivering and the unfocused look in your eyes and can immediately notice that something’s not quite right.

“i need you to tell me if you’re infected. don’t lie now, alright? i’ll shoot you if i find out you do.” at this, his voice is more stern, stirring up a bit more fear in you. but you’re able to shake your head clearly.

“no. no, ’m not infected. haven’t run into any for days,” you speak aloud for the first time since you woke up this morning, and you don’t notice the way that your speech is slurred, but he does.

“alright, then. kid, i’m gonna get you somewhere warm, okay?” in the back of your head, you’re terrified to let him closer, to let some stranger lead you somewhere, but the promise of warmth is something you desperately need. even so, you flinch away when he’s finally right next to you and reaches out. “i promise ’m not gonna hurt ya. i’ve got somewhere safe and warm for you, you’re gonna freeze to death if you don't get some help now.” he’s completely right, you realize, so you just nod. “there ya go. do’y have a coat we can get on you?” he frowns when you shake your head, but doesn’t hesitate to unzip his own padded coat. gently, he pulls your pack off your back and sets it down. you don’t even realize what he’s doing until he shrugs his own coat over your shoulders and pulls it tight over your front. the leftover warmth from his own body is heavenly, but in the action, you lose your support against the tree and unconsciously lean into his firm frame. you don’t notice, but he stiffens at this, and his frown grows deeper when he feels how cold you are to the touch.

with strong hands, he pulls you away from him slightly. wordlessly, he guides your shivering arms into the sleeves of his coat, silently grateful for the warm jacket he still has on.

“we’ve gotta get on the horse, now.” 

you just nod, letting him guide you to the tall animal. but you stop short at its side, completely unsure of how you’ll get up.

“first you put your right foot in the stirrup, right here.” you don’t have to say anything for him to begin telling you what you need to. “put your hand on the saddle here to help you up. i’m gonna hold you steady, okay?” you nod, letting him place his firm hands on your waist as you put the last of your strength into lifting one foot into the stirrup. “now you’ve gotta push up with that foot to swing your other leg over the horse.” it takes all of your concentration to understand what he says, and strength that you don’t have to actually do it. it’s messy, but thanks to his help and some miracle, you find yourself on top of the horse and putting all of your effort into staying upright.

“there ya go. i’m gonna get on in front of you, don’t you fall off now.” he quickly fastens your pack onto the horse, letting out a small grunt as he pulls himself up onto the animal. his body warmth right in front of you is precious and you don’t have it in you to feel awkward in the way he does as he pulls your arms around his torso to keep you steady. “just hold on and stay awake, alright? shouldn’t be too long til we get you warm.” once again, you just nod, knowing he can feel it with the side of your face pressed against his back.

as the horse starts forward at a decent pace, his instructions of holding on prove to be harder than ideal with your weakened grip. you don’t know how much time passes until the horse’s movement stops and the man’s voice, along with another, meets your ears.

you startle when the unfamiliar voice calls out. “joel! what took you so lon– what happened?”

“sorry, tommy.” you can feel the rumble of his voice while pressed against him, and turn your head to face the source of the other voice. “found ‘em leaning against a tree just a bit off the path. think they’ve got hypothermia.”

there’s another man on a horse, probably younger, but you can’t tell much else in the snow and the state of your mind. either way, you can’t help but read him as a danger. the man in front of you, joel, you assume, must have picked up on your fear behind him

“’s alright. that’s my brother, tommy. he’s here to help too, okay?” 

another nod from you, and a “damn” from tommy.

“let’s get going, then. we’ll stay in the lookout for tonight then get them back to jackson first thing in the morning. it’ll be dark soon.”

joel agrees, and with that, you set off. every so often, his voice brings you out of your daze long enough for you to nod your head against his back when he checks if you’re still awake. your sense of time is long gone; all you know when you arrive at the mentioned lookout is a vague sense of relief. 

“kid?” his voice rings out and you realize the motion of the horse has finally come to a stop. you do your best to sit up, hating the biting air that immediately hits your front now that it’s not kept warm by joel’s back. your hands stay resting absentmindedly on his shoulders in order to keep you from slipping off of the horse. “tommy’s gonna help you off, okay?” you let out a small hum of acknowledgement as tommy dismounts his horse and comes to stand beside you.

“here we go,” he gives you a small, encouraging smile as he lifts his arms up for you. “put your hands on my shoulders, and i’ll get you down safe ’n sound, alright?” it’s a bit of an awkward reach, and you begin to slip down before you have a proper grasp, but his hands are quick to secure themselves under your armpits, preventing you from falling and instead pulling you into his chest. your knees buckle the moment they hit the ground; tommy’s strong grip keeps you upright. “there you are, ’s alright. god, you’re shivering like a leaf in the wind. we’ll get you nice and warm now.” 

there’s a bit of a struggle getting inside, your legs practically refusing to hold your weight. an immense wave of relief washes through you when you collapse onto the couch they bring you to and you let your eyes shut in exhaustion.

“now don’t you fall asleep on us quite yet,” joel warns. “we gotta get you warm first. tommy, get some hot water going.” you force your eyes back open to see him crouching in front of you. “listen, uh. some of your clothes are a little wet from the snow, and we can’t have that.” he pauses at that, studying your face to catch any sort of reaction.

“okay,” you whisper, somehow coherent enough to still understand what he’s saying and know that he’s right.

“okay,” he repeats. “can i take these jackets off?” you nod. his grip is gentle when he pulls you up from your slouched position, allowing you to lean into him when he slips off the coat he gave you, then your own slightly damp jacket. you begin to shiver even harder, your thinning cotton shirt doing nothing to keep any cold at bay. “alright, alright,” he mumbles, half to himself as he pulls his thicker, dry coat back around you. then comes a blanket, taken from the couch and wrapped securely around your shoulders. he shifts you to rest against the back of the sofa.

that’s when he pauses, at a bit of a loss of what to do because your jeans, despite your thick boots, are soaked from the snow almost up to your knees. but there’s no way in hell he’d feel comfortable taking off your pants, much less how you’d feel. 

“i’m gonna have to cut your pants,” he concludes. “promise we’ll get you new ones in town, but you’ll never get warm like this.”

“’s okay,” you mumble. so he rummages in his pack until he finds a pair of scissors, doing his best to avoid touching your bare skin with his hands or cut you with the cold metal. it’s tricky business; the jeans stick fairly close to your skin, but he manages not to even nick you with the sharp edges. the moment you’re free from any damp clothing, he wraps another blanket securely around your legs so it won’t fall off. 

moments later, tommy reappears in your line of sight with exactly what joel asked for. he leans down, holding it out to you. with shaky hands, you grasp the cup, sighing in immediate relief at the warmth that spreads right into your fingers through your gloves.

“careful, now,” tommy advises. “it’s real hot, don’t burn your tongue.” you do your best to follow his instruction, weakly blowing at the hot water when you bring it close to your mouth. resisting the urge to down the whole thing, you grip it tighter and bring it to your chest, hoping to let some of the warmth permeate through other parts of your body other than your hands. it feels like a little piece of heaven when you feel the steam rising up to warm your chin, your lips, and the tip of your nose and the heat from the cup itself travel through your thin shirt and to the skin above your collarbone.

when you finally begin to sip on the warm water, it’s almost glorious; you can feel its warmth spread through your body. so once you discover it’s no longer too hot, you take long gulps and heave heavy sighs of relief. your trembling doesn’t disappear, but with the third cup, it certainly subsides.

this, and the far more relaxed expression on your face finally convinces joel that it’s safe to let you fall asleep—you’re halfway there anyways. tommy takes the empty cup from your hands before it can slip from your hold, and joel unravels your sleeping bag. at that point, you can no longer process the softly spoken words being exchanged by the brothers, but you’re vaguely aware of tommy’s arms tucking themselves under your shoulders and knees and pulling you off of the couch. then you’re being maneuvered into the sleeping bag that now lays across the surface of the couch, tommy setting you down while joel ensures that you stay properly wrapped up in the blankets. sleep claims you so quickly that you don’t hear the agreement between the two men to take turns keeping watch over you to periodically check your temperature and breathing.

joel wakes you in the morning, his gruff voice quickly recounting the events of the previous day when your jumbled state of mind after waking from such a deep sleep launches you into a panicked confusion. his explanation and comforting hands on your shoulders calm you in moments as the memories return, however vague they are due to the haze of your sickness.

“thank you,” you whisper as he helps you to sit up, his hands still gentle and supportive on your shoulders.

“course. like i said, we’ve got somewhere safe for you if you need. and at the very least, we’ve gotta get you some new pants and make sure you don’t get sick. were you travelin’ all alone?”

“not at first,” you explain, knowing he’s probably wondering about finding someone so young alone. “but now… yeah.” he sighs as if that’s the answer he expected.

“’m sorry,” he frowns. you just give a tight-lipped smile in response. “alright. we should get moving so we can get you to the town doctor. tommy’s gettin’ the horses ready.”

your eyebrows raise at his words. “town doctor?” you question. that puts a small smile on his lips that you don’t quite understand.

“yep. it’s a good place to be,” is all he offers in explanation.

“okay.” you begin untangling yourself from the blankets and sleeping bag that did the job of keeping you warm throughout the night. still covered by his coat, your upper half stays comfortable, but the feeling of your exposed calves hitting the cold air is unwelcome, not to mention the slightly embarrassing sight of the jagged edges of your jeans at such an awkward spot. 

“sorry ‘bout that,” he comments, “but we’ll keep your legs wrapped up with blankets for now and get you new jeans in town.” once you nod, he grabs a hold of one of the blankets he laid on top of you after you feel asleep, a rather small piece of fabric, but the right size to help you out. he wraps it around your left leg, using ropes from his supplies to gently secure the fabric, then repeating his actions for your other leg.

as he does so, he keeps his gaze focused on his task, but his gravelly voice meets your ears. “realized we never asked your name,” he phrases it like a statement, but the obvious question is there.

to be honest, you hadn’t even realized either, first, mind clouded by the hypothermia, and up until now too caught up in the oddness of your situation. one moment you’re all on your own and on the brink of death, the next you’re saved and seemingly on the way to what sounds like some sort of miraculous safe haven even from the vague glimpses of information you hear.

you state your name, hoping with all you can muster up that this isn’t some kind of cruel trick, and that the kindness the two men have shown you is as genuine as it’s proved to be thus far.

“well then,” he repeats your name back to you as he secures the last knot, still not looking up at you, “let’s get you home.”

those words nearly knock the air from your lungs. he throws them out like they don’t mean much, but in the most confusing way, because you’re sure he did it on purpose. you’re sure he does know that they mean a whole lot more than a casual tone and avoided eye-contact, but you suppose you can’t blame him. it’s often easier to pretend they don’t mean anything, certainly much more with people you don’t really know at all, people like you. and yet, you can’t help but think he said it to reassure you. to tell you that this place he’s talking about is one where you can find that thing everyone in this world has lost. as if it’s somewhere you already belong without having set foot in it yet. and you can’t tell the difference between hope and fear in that moment, so you shove it all away.

“sure.” you stand just after he does, grabbing your sleeping bag and beginning to roll it to the best of your ability while still weak. but he stops you, quickly taking over the task of clearing and packing up the last few things in the lookout after handing you a cup of warm water, not too hot. you finish it quickly, still more than grateful for any warmth that can be provided.

joel motions towards the door once he’s finished, and on still slightly wobbly legs, you walk up to him, stopping before he can lead you out.

“thank you, joel,” your voice is quiet, but sure when you say it.

“of course,” he assures, genuine in the affirmation.

“and tommy. tommy, too, of course,” you stutter, suddenly feeling awkward.

“sure thing.” he clears his throat, one his occupied hands almost moving up to rub the back of his neck. at that he turns, and you follow him out, back into the cold.

the shivery weather is not welcome by you, but in a properly warm coat and definitively out of the worst of your condition, it’s far more bearable. you feel bad for taking over joel’s coat, but he seems just fine in his jacket that’s clearly far warmer than your old, lousy excuse of a winter garment.

tommy and the horses are waiting there, just as joel said, and he smiles upon seeing you.

“good to see you up and alive, kid,” he grins with a gentle pat to your shoulder.

you answer his playfully reassuring attitude with a bashful smile of your own. “yeah, the alive part is definitely a plus,” you say in attempts of matching his tone. the way his grin grows tells you the joke landed, putting you at even more ease than before. unfortunately, it doesn’t make the way you formally introduce yourself to him any less awkward, but he seems glad to know your name. by your side, joel tightens one last strap on the horse before placing a careful hand on your shoulder.

“i think we’re good to go now. it’ll only be a few hours of riding,” he informs.

“sure,” you nod. pausing for a moment, you cast eyes down before speaking, albeit a bit timidly. “could you.. could you help me up again?”

you completely miss the soft look on his face at your request. “course i can, kiddo. i’ll get up first and help you from there, okay?” at your affirmative, he easily mounts the horse before holding a hand out to you. “just put your foot here, grab my hand, and i’ll do all the work, alright?” he moves his leg away from the stirrup so that you can use it yourself, his grip on your hand steady the moment you place it in his palm. gratefully, you follow his instructions, doing your best to use your own strength in tandem with joel to ease the effort he has to put forth to help you up. as you swing your leg over the horse, he guides your hand to hold onto his shoulder for you to grip far easier than his hand and succeeds in getting you into the saddle behind him. with that, you’re off, traveling somewhere that you somehow dare to hope is the sort of paradise joel and tommy have described.

,

part two here !!

[trialbywombaat]

At First Flight

‘Are you okay?’ he asks.

Tommy grunts. ‘I’ll be a lot more okay when my feet are on the ground in Sydney.’

Oh. ‘A pilot who’s afraid of flying?’ Buck blurts out.

He can practically imagine the death glare. Instead, though, Tommy just closes his eyes. ‘I’m not afraid. I just prefer it when I’m the one in the cockpit.’

Buck holds back a laugh. He can empathise with that, after all. If someone he loves was trapped in a burning building, he wouldn’t trust anyone but himself and the 118 to bring them out. 

‘It’ll be over before you know it,’ he says, trying to be reassuring. 

‘It’s a fifteen hour flight, Evan,’ Tommy says. His voice is flat, his eyes still closed tightly. 

‘Yeah, but the most dangerous parts of flying are take-off and landing,’ he says. Tommy’s a pilot; he definitely already knows this. But Buck figures it couldn’t hurt for him to hear it again anyway. 

‘And taxiing,’ Tommy adds, and Buck files that information away for later. He hadn’t known about that.

‘Okay, and taxiing,’ Buck says. ‘And so once we’re in the air it should…uh’ - Tommy opens his eyes and looks right at him as he’s talking, and Buck’s momentarily distracted. He doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because the blue of his irises is more piercing than he’d initially realised. Or because of the softness in them, a vulnerability that he’s willing to let Buck see. ‘It should be smooth sailing for ages,’ he finishes, his voice quieter than when he started.

The plane is going faster now, so fast that it feels like it can’t still be on the ground, even though Buck knows they definitely haven’t lifted off yet.

Buck’s never been afraid of flying before. He’s got quite an unhealthy lack of fear about most things, to be honest. But he’s starting to wonder if Tommy's fear is contagious. Because as the plane tilts backwards and they finally leave the ground, all he can feel is the way his heart is hammering in his chest; the way his stomach swoops with anxious anticipation; the restless energy thrumming through him.

He keeps his eyes on Tommy, trying to make his gaze reassuring, and hopes the other man can’t tell that he’s apparently a freshly-minted hypocrite with a newfound fear of aeroplanes. 

‘Fifteen hours that I can spend dreading the landing,’ Tommy says.

‘And eating aeroplane food,’ Buck teases, trying to keep his breath steady. ‘Don’t forget the aeroplane food.’ 

‘Great, my last meal will be aeroplane food,’ Tommy says. But a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and soon Buck is smiling too, and it seems to start some kind of positive feedback loop between them. 

See the rest on AO3:

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Tommy Kinard Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, long haul flights, Slightly oblivious Evan "Buck" Buckley, No Beta, Mentioned Firehouse 118 Crew (9-1-1 TV), all fluff no angst, whole fic is set on a plane

[chaotic-mystery]

cant stop thinking about jealous!joel miller and the way he’d react to seeing others flirt with you. just a little after your arrival to jackson, the three of you tired and just starting to socialize. you get talking with a friend of maria’s who introduced you. and joel is there watching, pretending to be interested in whatever the bored housewife hanging off his arm was even talking to him about. he burns with jealousy he doesn’t know what to do with and ends up crossing the bar to get to you. where he makes some kind of show of getting his hands on you and subtly proving his protectiveness and jealousy over other men talking to you. give it some real angst for me, please?

A/N: Bestie, I tried so hard for this and it's a little long, I hope I did it some justice!

“You’re what?” He shot up from the chair at the table and followed you down the hallway. “I’m going to the bar to go and be social, Joel. I’m fucking tired of being alone, I need more interaction. Besides, how would that look on us if we just stayed cooped up in the house instead of getting to know the people who were so kind to let us into their town?” you waited for a response, but it never came. You exited the bedroom and started for the door.  “So are Ellie and I not enough for you anymore?” he shouted at you as you were about to swing the front door wide open. Stopping dead in your tracks, doorknob in hand, you spun around quickly. “Excuse me? No, you don’t get to throw that at me, asshole. I love you both dearly, but god damn...I can only take so many of her jokes, and I can only deal with you being so cold towards me for so long. I’m sorry if I want to go somewhere I actually feel wanted. So if you want to, you can tag along or you can stay here with Ellie and watch a movie.” You didn’t mean for the words to sound so harsh, but maybe you were glad they hurt him a little. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. A scoff left your lips and out the door you went not wanting him to see the tears trying to escape your eyes. The walk to the bar was quiet, neither one wanted to speak.

Once you got inside and ordered a drink, he grabbed your arm and pulled you close to him. "For the record, I do want you, baby” Looking into those beautiful deep brown eyes was the biggest mistake you could’ve made. They always made you forgive him and you hated that. “Then act like it maybe” you snapped at him and gave his bottle a sarcastic clink with yours, making your way to Maria. Your hand brushed against her arm as you greeted one another and she told you she had some friends she wanted to introduce you to. Glancing behind you, your eyes found the woman next to Joel and he wasn’t entertained at all by her standing too close for his comfort, rambling on about god knows what. Maria introduced you to almost everyone there when you finally got to the last group of people. A pair of brothers and their friend were sitting at a table alone with beer bottles scattered across in front of them when you approached and Maria gave a quick introduction between everyone. She left to go find Tommy and you sat at the table with the men, asking where they were originally from and how everyone made it to Jackson. 

Joel was eventually out of eyesight as everyone shuffled around the floor, but you knew he was still with the same woman only because her laugh echoed from the same spot behind the sea of people in front of your table. You couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to see Joel. A point had to be made though and he’s been distant towards you ever since you almost got killed when the patrolling people of Jackson didn’t know why you were there or that Joel was Tommy’s brother. So many apologies were said, but he didn’t want to hear it. Ever since then he hasn’t said much of anything, so it was a slap in the face to you when he asked if Ellie and him weren’t enough. 

As the night went on, less and less people shielded you at the table. Joel's eyes landed on where you were, currently playing cards with the men you were actually enjoying talking to. His body was on fire with jealousy, because you couldn't see what he was seeing. They didn’t want to just chat and be friendly and play cards, they wanted more from you. The guy sitting next to you started inching closer, his arm finding its way around your shoulders. You kept knocking it down off of you as you just wanted to win this hand of cards and go home. “Stop, sweetheart. I’m just trying to make you feel comfortable.” the table erupted in laughs and you caught on to what was going on. “Well can we just finish this hand? I’m kinda tired, I need to get back to my boyfriend anyway.” That’s never scared off anyone before and you didn’t know what made you think that would work now. Looking beyond the ones sitting in front of you, you found Joel who had his chair planted just right so you were in his eyesight the entire time. The woman was leaning over him, hand on his thigh as she asked if she should get more beers for the two of them. “No, I think you should go home darlin. I’m sure you don’t want your husband to come lookin for you and find you draped all over me because you’re bored with him, and he’d try to kick my ass like it’s my fault, and the next thing you know you’re not bored because you’ll be taking care of him and his bloody nose.” She hopped down off the stool and gave Joel the middle finger as she walked by him, and a smirk grew on your lips. He couldn’t help but chuckle and look away from you. 

“Boyfriend? Baby you’ve been here with us the past almost two hours, if you had a boyfriend, why would he let a pretty girl like you be here alone?” Your sight locked on the man laughing across the short table across from you, and you held your cards against your chest “I can take care of myself, that's why” and with that, you placed them down to show them you won the game. An arm made its way around you, only this time it was your waist as he pulled you close to congratulate you. You tried wiggling away, but his grip got tighter. Joel could see you struggling and that was all he needed to get up and make his way to your table. His hand landed firmly on the guy's shoulder that was around you and he gave it a good grip. “Do you wanna have a broken arm?  If not I suggest you get the fuck off my girl because I will not hesitate and she won’t hesitate to take out your buddies.” You looked at Joel and restrained a grin as he yanked the guy's arm off you and held out his hand to help you up. He pulled you against his chest, his arm wrapped around you tightly like you’d disappear if he didn’t hold on, and gave you a deep kiss with his other hand cupping your cheek. The kiss said it all, the topic didn’t need to be rehashed. Needless to say, the next day you and Joel had to take the bed frame to the shop and put it back together and reinforce it better.

[anarcoqueer1994]

Dustin does not expect to see Steve sitting on his couch, shirtless, covered in blood and shaking when he got home from Hellfire. He was supposed to be spending the night at Mike's with the other guys but he forgot his bag, so he was going to stop home and grab it, Eddie waiting outside, offering to drop him off. He wasn't expecting Hopper, in uniform talking to his mother. He wasn't expecting Joyce Byers to be sitting next to the almost canatonic Steve, fussing over him, wrapping bandages over large gashes on his arm and shoulder. There were bruises everywhere, arms, stomach, face.

No one noticed him yet. And he was freaking out. He needed to tell Eddie, he needed to understand what was happening. Most of all, he needed Steve to be okay. Steve looked different. These weren't battle wounds from the upside down or Russians. This was something worse.

Without thinking, he runs back out the door to Eddie’s car, everyone but Steve looking up as the door slammed shut. Eddie immediately saw the panic in Dustin's face. He gets out of the car.

"Dude, what's wrong?" Eddie asks

"It's Steve...." and for the first time since Eddie knew Dustin, it looked like this was to much for him. Unfortunately, Eddie wasn't much help, panic filling him at the sound of his boyfriend's name being spoken like that. Steve can’t be hurt, Steve was supposed to be waiting for him at his trailer."What do you mean? Dustin...What is happening?"

~~

They came home unexpectedly. Steve was just stopping by his seldom lived in home to grab some clothes and a few VHS tapes he wanted to show Eddie. But they came home. His father called him into the kitchen. He looked angry. His mother sat silently by, not even looking at him.

"Had a conversation with Mr. Hagan. He said Tommy told him you were hanging out with that murderer, Eddie Munson." His dad says.

"He's not a murderer and he's my friend." Steve says plainly, hoping they don't know more.

"Cut the bullshit, Steven. Tommy saw you two kissing behind the movie theater like a couple of faggots." Mr Harrington says sternly, the cruel word leaving his lips.

"Tommy doesn't know what he's talking about." Steve tries to brush him off.

Suddenly Mr Harrington is on his feet grabbing Steve’s shoulder hard enough to bruise. From this distance Steve can smell the alcohol on his father’s breath. "I don’t like liars, Steven. " he crushes his grip further into Steve’s shoulder making Steve wince at the pain. "You are to stopping seeing Eddie. Even you deserve better than trash like that. And no son of mine will be a faggot."

The toxic words hurt Steve more than his father’s grip. "No? Then I'm not your son. Eddie is a better person than you will ever be and I fucking love him." He spits.

With that Steve is on the floor, when he tries to get back up his father pushes him back down landing painful punches through out his body, the trauma leaving bruises and open wounds. He grabbed a beer bottle from near by when Steve tried to fight back, busting it over his head and digging the jagged end of the bottle into his shoulder. When Mr Harrington finally stands up, he lands one more painful kick to Steve's stomach. "Get out! Get the fuck out here now. You are going to fucking die you know? All you fags eventually die of AIDs. Good riddance And don't take the car, it's in my name." His mother sat quietly doing nothing.

Steve can barely make out what his dad said, just knowing he had to leave. He struggles to get himself up, limping painfully to the door, holding his torso. He is vaguely aware of the blood trailing down his body.

He makes it outside. He doesn’t have a plan on where to go. He just starts walking, but eventually 3 blocks later walking gets hard, and he collapses cradling his stomach. He throws up, it's too much. But then a car drove by, headlights hitting him. It's Claudia.

"Oh my God, Steve!" She says getting out of the car. He can't even respond. He lets her usher him into her car, taking him back to her house. He knows she calls the ambulance(and the Sherriff, Hopper.) She asks him what happened but he can't talk. Everything is too much.

Joyce shows up with Hopper, delicately pulling him into a hug. He doesn't fight it. He is aware Claudia is talking to Hopper, aware of Joyce, but he just wants to die. This wasn't supposed a burden. He wasn't supposed to make this there problem.

But he hurts. His body is on fire. And the thoughts of his parents finally confirming what he already knew, that they do not love him, is destroying him. His father thinks he'll die of AIDS.

A thought crosses his mind. Oh no, he was supposed to meet Eddie. Eddie is going to worry. He tries to speak but finds that no words come out. Then he hears the door slam but he can't acknowledge it. Moments later he loses consciousness.

~~

As Dustin stands at Eddie’s car trying to explain what he saw, they both see an ambulance pull up. Thier worry gets worse, both instinctively follow the paramedics inside. There they see it. Steve unconscious on the couch, Claudia, Joyce and even Hopper panicking. They all watch helplessly as Steve is loaded on a bed and rushed out of the house.

They all crowd into Claudia's car except Hoper, giving them a police escort to avoid the lights. It's a long night of waiting in the ER, as doctors try to stabilize blood loss and the concussion. The waiting room gets fuller as Dustin and Eddie get ahold of thier friends. Around 4am, the doctor comes out, says he's stable but sleeping. Tells them they could go home. Of course, none if them do.

When the hospital tries to say that it's family only for staying over, Hopper flashes his badge. All of them crowd into a tiny hospital room.

~~

Steve wakes up around 8am. His head is killing him and the rest of his body doesn't feel much better. He's bandaged up covering the wounds from the glass. He feels tight bandages against what he is sure is broken ribs. Memories from last night flash into his head, guilt and shame flooding in.

He feels a weight against him. He turns his head gently to see Eddie laying next to him in the small hospital bed. Eddie is careful to lay against but not aggravate any of Steve's wounds. He carefully looks around, and he wants to cry, not sure out of happiness or guilt.

All his frineds were there...his family, asleep. Joyce and Hopper were crowded onto a hospital pull out cot. Robin took the chair near his bed, Nancy on the floor with her head in her lap. Claudia sleeps in a chair in the corner. The kids, Dustin, Max, Lucas, Mike, Will, El, and even Erica were sleeping against the wall on the floor. Jonathan and Argyle were even there, sleeping against the other wall.

His movements must have been enough to wake Eddie, who admittedly could barely sleep anyways. When he sees Steve is up, he whispers "Thank God..."

This is enough for Steve to look at him. Yellow and brown bruises staining his beautiful features, and Eddie, afraid to touch him, carefully puts his hand against Steve's cheek. "Baby..." He whimpers, on the edge of tears " I am so glad you are awake. I was so fucking scared, Stevie."

Steve tries to flash a smile but it falters when he sees the fear in Eddie's eyes. "I'm sorry...I didn't want to worry you."

"Oh sweetheart" Eddie coos, heartbroken that Steve is apologizing. "You have nothing to say sorry for. That bastard who did will be fucking sorry though." Eddie’s voice goes uncharacteristically dark, hatred boiling up for who ever did this.

"No Eds..." He whispers. "He isn't worth it.. "

"Who was it?" Eddie asks, fully intending on going after them.

"My dad..." He says softly. "And if you go after him, " his voice starts to shake "He's got the money to lock you up a long time....and then I'll lose you too. " A stray tear rolls down his face, causing Eddie to pull him in gently, whispering "Okay baby...I won't....you won't lose me."

Robin is the next to wake up, hearing Steve and Eddie talking. She immediately stands up, walking closer to the bed, waking up Nancy. "Steve..." her voice sounds hoarce, like she was actually crying.

Steve looks at her, and smiles "In the flesh..."

And just like that, she is ducking down hugging Steve. "You had me so worried, dingus." Steve wraps his arms as tight as he can given the circumstances, not wanting to let go.

After they finally pull apart, Nancy is squeezing his hand saying. "I'm so glad you are okay..."

One by one they all wake up, relief covering their faces seen Steve awake. Claudia immediately offers her home, knowing about the Harringtons and taking an educated guess on what happened, suspicions confirmed when Steve has to give his statement to Hopper.

Dustin's eyes were blood shot when he woke up, obviously having cried. He see came up to Steve, smiling but a little tear still in his eyes, seeing Steve like this. Steve flashes him a smile "Going soft on me, Henderson." He jokes.

"Shut up." He laughs before leaning down and hugging Steve. "I am so glad you are alive. Who else is going to drive me around?" He laughs but hugs Steve like his life depended on it.

The other teenagers all hug Steve, so happy he is alive. Everytime Steve tries to apologize for making them worry, they brush them off.

Over the next week, Steve stays at the hospital to recover. They all pop in to visit, with Robin, Eddie and Dustin practically living there. Unfortunately, due to money and lawyers, his dad is going to get away with it.

But it's okay, he has his real family. He comes home to Claudia's house, guest bedroom set up for him. Eddie and Robin are there everyday helping him recover. Eddie even spends the night, just holding him, drowning away the nightmares he has replaying that night.

But overall he's happy. He has people that love him, he has "parents" that love him. He does not need Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. He has all the love he needs right here.

[boopernatural]

could you write a light hearted fic where Joel breaks his ankle and Ellie starts hovering bc she is trying to take care of him but also he's a stubborn bitch who still tries to do things while injured.

“-ve got it!” Joel snaps, shoving through the front door as Ellie trails right on his heels. She’s been glued to him ever since he’d left the clinic with his crutches, watching him like a hawk, demanding he take it easy. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into the kid, why she’s all of a sudden such a damn hawk, but it’s gettin’ on his goddamn nerves.

“You have a broken ankle,” she deadpans, “you’re lucky I didn’t tell Tommy to strap you to a bed at the clinic and just keep you there. You’re a fucking headache.”

“I’m a headache?” he demands as she closes the front door and sets his hunting bag down beside it.

“Yeah you jackass. Your bone is broken. Just sit the fuck down and let me handle shit.” Ellie shoves him lightly toward the couch, insistent, and he obliges. If nothing more, to shut her up for five minutes.

With a pained exhale, he lowers himself to the couch, wincing. He’s too goddamn old for shit like this; the nurse on call at Jackson’s clinic had said it would probably take longer than usual for his body to recover, considering his age and wear and tear. That hadn’t exactly delighted him.

The last thing he wants to do is make Ellie take care of him, again. He still has nightmares about it- hazy and unfocused blurs of memories, fragmented and cold. A stiff, stained mattress on a basement floor, pain so intense that he began to not even feel it after a while, numb limbs and a constant throb in his body. He remembers hearing bits and pieces of her voice; she talked to him the whole time, quiet and concerned and terrified. He’d never felt so helpless, leaving her to save his life, putting her own in so much jeopardy.

He can’t stand the thought of her feeling like she has to do it again. Even here, in the quiet safety of Jackson’s walls, he can’t let her be his protector. That ain’t how this is supposed to work.

“Here.” Ellie’s at his side again, holding out a small vial of medication they’d given him at the clinic. Supposed to help relax him so he doesn’t move too much or get too stiff. They hope it helps the pain too, but most things are homemade salves and tinctures these days, so it’s often a guess.

“M’fine,” he argues.

Ellie scowls. “Joel, take the fucking drugs. They told us you have to.”

“Kid, I’m alright, okay? I’m gonna sit here for a second and then start on that laundry.”

“You’re- no the fuck you’re not!”

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he insists, hoping to reassure her.

“Yes the fuck I do your ankle is broken!” Ellie exhales with frustration and sets the vial down in front of him on the coffee table. “I’m going to finish cleaning up in the kitchen. Don’t touch the laundry.”

Joel glowers in her direction. He ain’t sure when exactly the kid got it in her head that she can tell him what to do, but she’s sorely mistaken on that.

Grunting in pain, Joel shoves himself to his feet, fingers flexed around the crutch. His movement is shaky, weak, but he manages to get himself standing upright. All he has to do is make it up the stairs, grab the laundry, and he’s golden.

Hell, he leveled a hospital full of armed guards by himself. This ain’t nothin’.

Each step hurts, though it’s bearable. He makes it toward the first step and finds his way up. One. Two. Three. He just has to keep going and he’ll be fine. Four. Five.

Fuck-

His ankle gives out and he topples over, scrambling to catch himself before his head smashes into the landing. He somehow manages to break his fall on his shoulder, which sends a ricochet of pain through his body, leaving him strewn out on the steps.

“Joel?” Ellie’s voice calls out in alarm, and before he can figure out a more appeasing way to present himself, she rounds the corner.

“Oh. For fucks sake.” Her hands are on her hips, looking up at him with disdain in her big eyes. She’s shaking her head before he even begins speaking.

“Listen, I-“

“You are so annoying.” Ellie scolds. “Seriously dude, I’m leaving you like this. I told you to stay put.”

He shoots her a glare. “Good. I can get myself up.”

That ain’t likely, but he’d rather dig himself out of this hole than drag her into it with him.

“Oh my god why are you so fucking stubborn?”

Joel’s teeth grit together. “I ain’t stubborn Ellie, I just don’t need your help.”

“Yeah, you’re doing great, half-dead on this staircase.”

With a patient inhale, he replies, “I miscalculated. It happens.”

“Miscalculated. You’re the worst.” She shakes her head again. “Obviously I’m gonna help you up, stupid.” She begins ascending the staircase toward him.

“No!” Joel surprises even himself with the ferocity of his shout, stopping her in her tracks. She looks at him with disbelief written across her face.

“What the fuck?” Ellie demands.

“I-I don’t need you to take care of me,” he stammers, “I’ve got it, kid. It ain’t your job.”

“Joel,” she says patiently, “is that why you’ve been…so annoying? You think you’re like burdening me, or something?”

Her voice is soft, surprisingly gentle for his usually rough kid. He can see the understanding in her eyes, the sympathy.

With a resolute sigh, he responds, “I know how hard it was on you, everything that happened in Colorado-”

Ellie flinches.

“-and I made a promise that you’d never ever have to be in that spot again.” Joel glances down at his ankle with disgust. “I’m not breakin’ my promise.”

For a moment, she studies him, her expression unreadable and ambivalent. She takes her time with whatever quiet debate she’s working on, before exhaling slowly.

“Man, I get it. That was fucked up, back in Colorado. But…it wasn’t your fault, okay? You gotta stop blaming yourself. Shit happened and we dealt with it, both of us. Don’t forget you came chasing after me with a hole in your stomach, dude.”

Joel winces at the memory, eyes still cast down, unable to meet her gaze.

“We’re here to move forward,” she says in a determined, if not a little shaky, voice. “We’re in this together, just like always. That means we look out for one another. Both of us. Let me help you down.”

Giving him no opportunity to argue, Ellie steps up and grabs him under the armpits. With no warning, she heaves him upright with a groan of effort, giving him enough leeway to grab the banister. Together, they right him with his crutches, and she begins walking him down the steps.

With him situated on the sofa, Ellie holds out the vial of medicine. “I’m not asking, I’m telling. Take this shit or I’ll drug your food with it. Believe me.”

Joel believes her. He downs the bitter tasting mix and sits back against the cushions, feeling vulnerable and raw.

“Listen up,” Ellie says, “you’ve looked out for me for the past year. You’ve protected me and taken care of me, given me everything I needed.“

“That’s my job,” he insists.

“Don’t interrupt me, man! It’s my job to look after you too. We’re…we’re like family now, right?”

He doesn’t miss the slight uncertainty in her words at the end. As quickly as he can, he soothes it.

“Yes, of course.”

“Alright then. Stop bitching, sit your crusty old ass down, and let me do the laundry.”

“Crusty?” he demands.

“Yeah, you broke that thing on day two of your overnight patrol. Crusty.” She turns on her heel and heads back for the kitchen, shouting, “I’m making dinner! Hope you like toast!”

“Long as you don’t burn it again!”

“Literally no promises!”

Joel can’t help the smile tugging at his lips as she goes, even though the thought of sitting down while his kid cooks him a meal makes his skin crawl. He reckons she has a point, at the end of the day.

They are family.

[ti-girl1226]

The reason Tommy didn’t take his pain meds

I’m sure by the title you can already tell but this mentions medicine and addiction, addiction is a mental/physical disorder that many people have or are suffering from. If you need help please contact someone for that, and if you are clean Im happy and proud of you. Anyway I was feeling a bit sad and went back to my dsmp stage so you get hermit Tommy because I’m like that. I hope you enjoy :)

Tommy has always been a bit of a hassle when it comes to recovery. Grian and the other hermits knew that. And it was always an issue. But this time there’s been something was different, he acted strange when stress gave him the pain meds and told him to take them in the morning for a week. Tommy shifted and awkwardly took it. He seemed apprehensive, like he hated them and couldn’t trust them. The next few days Tommy would be flinching when putting pressure on his wounds and he thought nobody noticed. But the hermits slowly noticed over the days, and when Tommy didn’t come out when he usually did. Grian grew suspicious, so he went to look for him. When he entered the house he looked around and eventually got to the kitchen, that’s when he grew more concerned. The meds stress had proscribed were untouched, but that’s not the only thing, they were sitting on the highest shelf far back where even Tommy couldn’t reach. It was strange. But then Grian heard something that made his stomach drop. A faint whimpering coming from Tommy’s bedroom. Grian didn’t think and quickly ran to Tommy’s room, Tommy was curled up on the floor crying. He was holding the area around his injured sobbing. 

“Tommy?” Grian asks rushing to his side parental instincts kicking in. “What’s wrong? Why haven’t you been taking your meds? Are you okay?”

Tommy’s weakness shows through his tears “it hurts make it stop please make it stop.” He cries, Grian doesn’t know what to do except get him help. He quickly sends out a messages ‘Tommy hurt need help, where to go.’ The chat explodes with concern messages but through them doc with a reply ‘my house is fine.’ Grian waist no time scooping up the crying Tommy and spreading his wings and flying to docs residence. When he enters stress is already there and they take Tommy away too look at him.

“He’ll be okay,” says scar from his wheelchair while grian pieces infront of him.

“You don’t get it he didn’t even touch his meds,” the red winged man says as he pulls slightly on his blonde hair “why wouldn’t he want the pain relief? Why didn’t he take them? Dose he not trust us still? Why didn’t he take them?” Shouting form the medical room stops the man in his rambling.

“No no get away I won’t take it!?” A familiar voice yells out. Tommy need help is all grian thinks as he runs into the room the boy was in. His wings puffed out as he stands looking at Tommy as he plasterers himself against the wall across the room from stress and doc. It’s so similar to when he first landed on hermitcraft that it’s somewhat scary to grian. Did all this hard work to make him better not work? Has Grian failed, as a parent? (Why did he think that Tommy’s not his kid and Tommy doesn’t see him as his dad so why did he-) 

“We tried to give him pain meds but he won’t allow us, we tried explaining that it would help.” Says Doc snapping grian out of his thoughts. Grian looks at Tommy with concern walking up to him slowly and getting down this level (tommy is on the floor like curled up.) 

“Tommy, why won’t you take the meds? Did your perverse server do something to them while you were on the server?” Ask grian in a soft voice, calming down Tommy, slightly expanding his wings to block Tommy from seeing doc and stress who tried to give him the meds.

“No.” Tommy replies cowering slightly as his voice breaks.

“Then why don’t you want to take them?”

“I… I’ve been clean for so long I don’t want to fuck it up again.” His void cracks as he says it not looking at grian. If he was he would have seen the shock,anger and finally pity. 

“Oh Tommy you should have said something,” grian says bringing Tommy into one of his signature hugs raping his wings around him aswell. “I want you to know that we don’t judge you and the fellow hermits will try our best to help you on your journey. I promise you that everybody is proud of you. I’m proud of you.” Grian says tears daring to spill, he doesn’t move holding his hatchling Tommy tightly. Him and Tommy start to cry together. They are alone together doc and stress left a while back. Finally after a while and Tommy getting exhausted from the previous pain of his injury and the tears, yaws in the hug. He mumbles a few words that if grian wasn’t a bird hybrid he might have not heard “thank you dad.” Before falling asleep. Grian sits there tears of happiness staring to overtake those of sadness and he hold his new hatchling close to him. Tommy called him dad!

lol, was board and saw a thing about how cannon Tommy would have been a drug addicted at some point, I can see both the van times and after Wilbur’s death. But I thought how would hermits react to this especially Grian because I love father Grian vibes, and while writing thought why no make this the first time Tommy calls him dad to add a bit off fluff at the end. So lol if y’all want to do something like this then you’re good to go.

Edit- re reading this I feel like it turned kinda into a very slightly darker like possessive parent grian towards the end and I don’t know why

[dreamsclock]

Hi!

I don’t know if you know the Dreams Chat as butterflies Headcanon but I am literally in love with it. So combined with the protégé AU I think that could make a pretty cute situation?

Hope you have a nice day!

PROTÉGÉ TOMMY AU / BUTTERFLY CHAT AU

Tommy wakes up to a beautiful orange butterfly perched on his nose.

His gut reaction is to slap at it, but it flutters high above him before his hand connects, and so he only really succeeds in hitting himself in the face.

“Dreeeeeaaam,” he groans, head flopping back against the bed, “go the fuck to sleep, man.”

warnings: ambiguous / hurt/comfort ending

His only answer at first is the sound of a man at the end of his tether turning over in bed.

“Dream.”

“How’d you even know I was awake?” A familiar voice grouses from across the room. “You’re so creepy. You’re like— stalking me or something. Monitoring my breathing.”

Resigned to the fact he won’t be sleeping any time soon, Tommy flips on the light beside him. He doesn’t particularly care if he wakes Punz: Punz is an idiot, and he sucks, and yesterday he’d tripped him up and made him look like an idiot in front of Techno, so yeah, Tommy hopes he wakes up. And he hopes he’s pissed.

But thoughts of smug vengeance die quickly when his attention is drawn to something much more pressing instead: namely, the roof of their base.

Or what had been the roof of their base. Tommy can’t actually see it anymore because it’s become the joke of thousands and thousands of tiny butterflies, fluttering their wings innocently, but he’s certain the roof is still under there somewhere. Hopes it is, anyway. Last thing he needs is for their roof to have been completely destroyed by a bunch of stupid ugly butterflies he doesn’t even like.

“Your fuckin’ Chat,” Tommy scowls, “don’t blame me. Maybe if you had a normal fucking version of your Chat that wasn’t seventy thousand butterflies— Jesus Christ, man, they’re just creepy. They’re everywhere and they’re creepy and they’re fucking orange.”

“They’re not all orange.” Finally gracing Tommy with his presence, Dream sits up in bed. His eyes are bloodshot, and there are dark rings under them. There’s a butterfly nesting in his unruly hair that he gently lets land on his finger, a small green one, lined with silver spirals. “Nat isn’t. Don’t tell me you’re colourblind or something.”

Tommy stares. “You named them?”

“No— what?” Dream splutters. “Tommy, it’s— Your Chat all have names. You’re not being serious. You knew that, right?”

From underneath Tommy’s bed, there’s the sound of a mechanical, sad whir from his Chat. He tries not to think about it too much. “I— Yeah, course I knew,” he says, breezily, “they— all of them? Like there’s multiple names?”

“You’ve been neglecting your Chat.” Incredulously, Dream shakes his head. “That’s fucked up, Tommy.”

“Not neglecting!” He protests. “Just not—”

“Jesus Christ,” Punz snaps, “can both of you shut the hell up?”

From the doorway, Punz appears like a rabid animal, arms crossed, tapping his foot as if he’s the most long-suffering person on the planet, which in all fairness, Tommy thinks, he might just be. Dream takes one look at his ally and flips back down into bed with a groan, hands covering his face like he’s the second most long-suffering person on the planet, which in all fairness, he might just be. “Sorry,” Dream mumbles, “Tommy is just—”

“Don’t speak.” Punz tells him. “I don’t wanna hear the kid’s name before eight tomorrow morning. I want a— these are my Tommy-Free hours, okay. You wanted him here, so you keep him for the night.”

Tommy squawks. “I’m not a pet!”

“Shut up, Tommy,” Dream and Punz say in tired unison, before offering each other a reluctant grin.

—

By the time they actually settle down to sleep again, the butterflies have settled down. They’re calm, shrouding Dream’s body in a soft multicolored glow that surprisingly, doesn’t annoy Tommy as much as he’d assumed. His own Chat has fallen asleep again, making soft little hums as it sleeps, and, heavy-eyed, Tommy finds himself following suit.

“Dream?” He yawns. “Why were you still awake earlier?”

For a moment, he thinks Dream might already be asleep. But then his voice rings out in the darkness, quiet, tentative.

“I… was thinking,” he admits, “about tomorrow.” And then he says, “I… was scared.”

Tommy’s eyes snap open.

“What?”

Dream doesn’t reply. For once in his life, Tommy doesn’t push the subject. But he doesn’t fall asleep that night either, plagued with thoughts of the morning to come. Because the morning brings a new day with it, and the new day brings the staged disk finale with the rest of the server.

Which brings with it, the prison.

When dawn breaks, Tommy sits up in bed, quietly, and locks his gaze on Dream’s sleeping form across the room. Without his mask, in the pale light of early morning, he looks vulnerable. The butterflies crowding round him aren’t beautiful, anymore. They’re protective.

I was thinking. About tomorrow. I was scared.

Tommy’s lips pull themselves into a tight, tight frown.

When Dream wakes, he says nothing. But before they part ways to play their respective roles, Tommy seizes his arm roughly, pulls him close.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he says, voice thick, “trust me, man. You’re gonna be fine.”

Dream, expression hidden behind his mask, doesn’t speak for a long moment.

“I know,” he says finally, and the words come out resigned, tired, “I’m always fine, Tommy.”

There is a lone butterfly in his hair when they separate, and Tommy hides it under his helmet. The rest remain with Dream until the bitter end.

Tommy’s butterfly stays with him when Dream is locked away, and Tommy keeps it safe, fluttering right over his heart.

send me prompts via my askbox!

[inkstainedheartbeats]

What’s this? Another silly AU? (Please note silly does not mean this is gonna be angst free). Modern AU, Upside Down Events still happen, but I’m unsure if I wanna keep the deaths.

This now has a name: Learning to be Loved

It takes everything inside Tommy to not pull over on the side of the road and throw up. He left this town as quickly as he could. Wanted nothing to do with it, with the constant death, with his father and brothers. Leaving his mother, leaving the little plot of land where his sister sleeps was a blow to the gut but he needed to go. His hands tighten on the steering wheel, he ran because Hawkins would have been his death. And now here he is running back.

Ten years older and thousands in debt thanks to a degree he never even got to finish. Still, his eyes flick back to the three little girls sleeping in their seats, it wasn’t all bad. Sure Lloyd was probably the worst Alpha Tommy could have let knock him up, he was everything Tommy hated he had become in high school, but he had treated Tommy right at the start. He treated Tommy like an equal instead of the way most Alphas did here in Hawkins. They’d spent three years dancing around each other, two of them Tommy spent fixing all the shit in his head… okay, not all. Up until he fled he’d had a therapist visit every other Wednesday, but most of it. He recognized that painting ‘Nancy the Slut Wheeler’ was a shit thing to do, that spreading rumors that could get them hurt in their small, often backward ass, town was a morally indefensible thing to do. He’s grown. Has had to grow. He has children to raise and an Alpha who showed his true colors the moment Tommy got pregnant. Raging and throwing things, breaking things before turning toward Tommy. The baby couldn’t be his. He wouldn’t raise the bastard.

Only when the twins were born, a week and a half early Lloyd had come crawling back. Begging to be part of their lives. And like a fool Tommy had said yes. Carol’s parents had divorced and while her dad was amazing he hadn’t known what or how to raise two kids on his own. And if Barty couldn’t do it, how could Tommy?? He stayed too long. Let Lloyd stay too long. Muscle memory has him almost turning onto Loch Lora before remembering that Steve doesn’t live there anymore.

“Daddy? Where are we?” Bellamy asks, her big brown eyes looking around.

She has his eyes but Tommy likes to think she got the brown from Steve. That there was a tangible connection between them. He’s pulled over, car idling as he digs out his phone. Can’t stay here long, the neighbors get pissy, but he needs to look up Steve’s address. Dr Marnie would be disappointed in him, dropping by an old ex friend’s house unannounced. But even when they were on the outs Steve looked out for him. The pact made between Omegas never weakened.

“We’re in Hawkins, babydoll, daddy’s just gotten a little turned around is all.”

Plus Steve’s facebook profile is public for the world to see. Complete with address and place of employment. Steve’s a teacher nowadays. Tommy hadn’t dared look further than that. Didn’t have the right to, which makes just as little sense now as it did when he mentioned that to Dr Marnie. He’d done the same to Carol. Looked at that little About section, only addresses and place of work. Needed to see how they were doing. Carol is an accountant, or maybe a CPA, not that Tommy knows what the fuck that means. Finding the address he gets to driving.

It doesn’t take long to get the quaint little house. The outside is painted a cheery yellow the neighbors must hate or love. There are toys in the yard. This is it. He takes a deep breath, steps out of his shitty second hand car that barely fits his three daughters and all he packed for them, and starts the process of unloading the girls. They gather close around him, nervous about the new environment. Together the little family approaches the round green door. Knocks.

“Heya, Steve.”

——//——//——//——//

Hope you don’t mind the tag @busyheadkeepbreathing but you sounded super into this idea part two available

[lovelyrose20]

Listen I know it’s a lot is happening and normally I don’t like making posts about giant dramas of the day because I’m gonna be real here. I don’t give a damn for the little shit and sometimes it’s just tiring But I think the biggest problem when it comes to the community is the fact that people tend to try to split things between each other or try to go to two opposite extremes even if it’s something small

Like oh Quackity is a horrible asshole who didn’t respond to Dream for a few week and totally know about the harassment including the awful threats against his family

I’m not an expert but unless I missed something and the threats were actively in the top search of QSMP or Quackity tags in the Spanish side of things talking about all those horrible things involving Dream’s family. I highly doubt that Quackity would’ve read all of them, and even if he did, it will probably just be saying bad things, not straight up, threatening and making assassination attempts over a minecraft server because I doubt he would be happy at the threats even if he didn’t say it publicly. I think there’s a better way he could’ve handle it rather than just ignoring it and hoping that if he just not feed the mob, they would calm down eventually since sometimes a Twitter mob would not calm down even if you give it time. But that doesn’t mean he deserve harassment over it or being called an awful friend or people badmouthing his server and the people in it because of stupid decision on his part.

Oh Dream secretly want people to be harassed and that’s the reason why he wrote a a 10 page Twitter post.

Whatever you feel about him now and even though that, I think there’s better ways to explain the situation, and airing out friendship beef is not a good idea on principle because that would just make the situation worse, explaining that you want your friend to tell his community not to harass people and talking about how you were threatened over the similarities of a Minecraft server that we don’t even know is copying shit, with the only thing being that they are multiple languages and because he got bad timing is not him being an asshole. The worst I will say is that he was being irresponsible and emotional ass, but I don’t think he was being evil or trying to induce a riot. Especially when it’s involved his family being in danger which would pissed anyone off

Tommy shouldn’t be making a joke about the situation and he’s being a bastard or Tommy have every right to make that joke and it’s a good sign that he hated Dream or something

Buddy, don’t you consider the fact that maybe Tommy made a joke because he thought it was funny and didn’t think it through. We’re talking about the kid who wants to make sure that his closest friends approve of some of the skits that he played. Like I remember when people are concerned Tubbo is super mad during the wedding video only for Tubbo to say yeah I wasn’t upset. It wouldn’t shock me if he ask Quackity and Dream about it. Plus, even if he did step out of line and he deserve to be someone called out for it. That don’t means that it’s a not for him to be dox and his family threatened. Some people try to say that since he hate Dream so much, he should’ve deleted his videos with him. Like he made one video making a joke that probably didn’t land well. You could be uncomfortable, You can call him out, hell you could stop watching him after. But threatening his mom to hurt her to supposedly get her to talk to her son is not gonna make things faster. In fact, that would make things worse because guess what no one likes being threat over a joke. We can say that he made a bad joke, and you shouldn’t have made it because for multiple reasons, but that’s not an excuse to threaten him. And if we go by the logic that this video means that he hates him what does that mean for people like Phil who he made joke about does that mean he hates them too? Especially since some of the people we make jokes are all his friends, so should we assume that he hates them?

But no, these people is evil because they made a bad joke or because they didn’t show attention to a situation and because they look at several things that they’re totally evil and such and they never care about their friends and they’re horrible idiot who do so much wrong, and should be grounds for harassing them

Doesn’t that sound familiar?

These creators are not gods or the devil. They’re people and We can criticize them about making posts that also give away friendship drama while I do acknowledge that maybe they have a right to be upset when they were literally being tracked in their goddamn car

We can acknowledge that that joke isn’t funny because hey, I know this seems pretty ridiculous to you and you want to make a small little jab about it, but we got harassed over it without deciding to turn around and do the same goddamn thing to that person

We can criticize people without deciding to make them hear from here like we can criticize people without telling their mom that you’re going to assault her unless she tell her son to cool it, and we can criticize them without making dramatic posts about how there’s totally evil now and how because they made one bad decision in a friendship or in a relationship. Suddenly, they are pure evil and now you’re going on a giant rant they’re actually an evil bastards who don’t deserve attention.

They deserve to be criticize and told what they did wrong, and how to improve without their families getting hurt in the process.

Edited it because my grammar was somewhat shit.

[whumpcereal]

whumptober, day seven: shaking hands | seizures | silent panic attack

Will's first wake up at the kennel. Parts one, two, and three here. I will make a masterlist this weekend, I swear. Also, this is officially a birthday gift for @hold-him-down. Happy birthday, Holdy!

content warnings for: dehumanization, animalization, forced nudity (non-sexual), muzzles, cages, panic, forced feeding, comments about weight, accidental urination, creepy/intimate whumper, adult language

part four, rise and shine

Will doesn’t sleep. It’s not like he can. It turns out, dog kennels are not, in fact, made to accommodate the six foot frame of a human who isn’t used to being on his hands and knees. Everything fucking hurts, until it doesn’t. At some point, the persistent ache in his back starts to burn and then dulls into numbness. His shoulders feel like they’ve floated off into space, and he can’t feel his legs at all. 

Maybe it’s a mercy not to feel for a second, but there’s a part of Will that’s scared shitless. How long are they going to leave him in here? Like, what happens if you don’t get enough blood to your extremities? Do they die or, like, fall off? He knows it’s unreasonable, but still, Will imagines himself as a limbless body.  

It’s not exactly comforting. Neither are the sounds of the room around him. The restless shifting of other bodies, already used to their cages. Heavy breathing. A few snores. They are all normal, human sounds, and this is not a normal, human situation. Will doesn’t know how many of them there are, but even one person locked in a fucking cage is too much. It doesn’t make him feel any better to know that he’s not alone. Especially because it feels like he’s the only one who realizes how fucked up this is. The rest of them are fucking sleeping. 

And he still doesn’t know where Tommy is. 

So, yeah, no. Will doesn’t sleep. 

He stares into the darkness, floating on a choppy sea of really fucking problematic thoughts,  and he watches as the light in the room shifts from black to ink blue and then a cold gray. Morning. 

There’s the snap of a switch, and the fluorescent overhead lights buzz to life. 

“Rise and shine!” chirps a man’s voice. Fucking Doc. “Hup-hup! Out in the yard to potty. You know the drill.” 

Will’s eyes sting with fresh tears. He can’t do that. He can’t. But he hears the jangle of cages being opened, and it doesn’t seem like any of the others hesitate. A door opens on squeaking hinges; there’s a blast of freezing cold air. Skin slaps against cold cement, and the room quiets before the door slams shut again. 

Will is still locked up. He whimpers behind the muzzle, and without thinking, nudges his head against the cage door. 

Fuck. Did he just do that? 

There’s a soft laugh, and then footsteps move closer to him. Doc crouches in front of the cage, and he ducks his head to get a good look at Will. There’s a smile that, on anybody else’s face, would almost be reassuring; on Doc’s, it just sort of makes Will want to crawl up his own asshole. 

“Aw, now, little mutt,” Doc coos. He curls his fingers against the wires. “Don’t get too excited. You’re not socialized yet, are you? It would be wrong to put you in the yard with the others before you know the lay of the land.” 

Mutt. Cold shame coils in Will’s belly. It’s all he can feel, since the rest of him’s gone numb. 

He knows it isn’t true. He’s not a mutt, he’s–well, he’s himself. And maybe that isn’t always what he’s wanted to be but, fuck–he’s a person. But somehow, the word sinks into him just like Doc’s tracking chip, sharp and stinging beneath his skin.

“Did you get some good rest last night?” Doc asks. “My Annie says you were good as gold.” 

Will’s eyebrows crease beneath the forked straps of his muzzle. ‘Good as gold’ is a stretch. Maybe Annie meant it when she said she’d do what she could for him. Though if half-lying to her deranged father is all she can do, it’s not like it’ll make much difference.  

“I hope you stay that way,” Doc says, his tone all sugar and honey. “You’ve got a big day today, mutt. A very big day.” 

Will can only blink. Who knows what the fuck ‘a very big day’ with Doc looks like? Will isn’t exactly chomping at the bit to find out.

Except he is. Because there’s an actual fucking bit in his mouth. 

He should snarl, growl, bash his head against the cage. But the sudden awareness of the weight on his tongue, of his own half-naked body makes him shrink. He tries to press himself to the back of the cage, but he has no idea if he’s even moved.

“Oh, hey now, buddy. There’s no need to be afraid,” says Doc. 

Right. Because he isn’t muzzled and mitted and fucking caged. Because he isn’t in a basement that was, until very recently, packed to the gills with human animals. Because he doesn’t know where Tommy is or what’s happened to him or how they’re going to get home or if they’re going to get home, and– 

Will can’t breathe. He can’t make a sound, and he can’t breathe. He tries to suck in air through his nose, but nothing happens. His chest feels like it’s stuck. He can’t–fuck, he can’t–he can’t–

Doc slams his hand against the door. “Stop that now. You’re fine. You hear me? There’s nothing for you to get so worked up about.” 

Will doesn’t mean to, but whatever air is left in his chest pushes out in a mangled whine. And then he feels a wet warmth spread between his legs. 

Shit. Or, you know, the opposite. 

Will’s eyes stay glued on Doc as he dribbles through his boxers and onto the newspaper. He can feel his tears slipping down his face, disappearing into the leather, but he doesn’t move. 

Doc sighs, shaking his head. “Naughty. Naughty boy!” 

He bangs against the cage again, and Will jumps. 

“Looks like you might take more training than I thought. But that’s okay, buddy. Isn’t it? We’ve got all the time we need.” 

Will’s heart sinks to his bowels. He still can’t draw a full breath, but he doesn’t think Doc cares. 

Doc reaches into his pocket and slips out a ring of keys. “We’ll get you cleaned up, won’t we? But I want you to listen to what I say here, boy. When you come out of this cage, you’re going to stay on your hands and knees. You’re going to heel and follow where I lead you. And you are not going to fight. If you fight, I’ll make sure you can’t get around any way but on your hands and knees ever again. You nod if you understand, mutt.” 

Will’s head moves, just a little. His nerves are starting to fire again; he’s fucking shaking. 

“That’s a good boy,” Doc soothes. 

He unlocks the door and swings it open, then turns behind him and produces a braided cord with a big slipknot at the end. 

It’s a fucking leash. Will’s chest might rip open if it could. He tries again to suck in air, but he’s crying too hard now to make any headway.   

Doc waggles the loop in front of Will’s face. “You don’t have your collar yet, so we’ll use this slip lead for now. If you tug, you choke.” 

And then he pulls the loop over Will’s head, tugging it snug against his throat. Doc yanks forward, and the cord cinches tighter. If Will couldn’t breathe before, this is not going to do him any favors. 

“Up now, boy,” Doc urges. “We’ll have to get you back to the exam room before the others come in. We don’t want to overwhelm them. I work hard to help them forget what it’s like to be in your place, you know?” 

But Will can’t get up. He can’t fucking move. He’s shaking too much. He tries to push up on his mitted hands, but they’re trembling inside the leather; his joints melt like wax. Doc tugs again on the lead, and this time, Will fucking chokes. 

“Come on now, boy. Heel.” 

He doesn’t get all the way up to his hands, but Will manages to creep out of the cage like a loose-limbed baby, half-letting Doc drag him by the throat. 

“Easy now, mutt. Come on. You’re fine. You’re just fine.” 

Will pushes up on his jittering knees and slides his mitts along the cement toward the door Annie was watching last night. His wet boxers cling to his crotch, already starting to chafe. It’s a small relief that all of Doc’s other–pets? prisoners?--that the others are in the yard so no one can see him this way. 

He hopes Tommy’s with them. That Tommy can breathe. That he’s not so fucking terrified. 

But when Doc opens the door, Will’s hopes plummet straight to the concrete floor. 

Tommy’s there, kneeling on the floor in front of a dog bowl. And he’s eating from it. 

Tommy? Will forgets he can’t speak, and his trapped tongue aches under the weight of Tommy’s name. The sound alerts Tommy, and he looks up, eyes glassy with tears of his own. Greasy brown chunks of dog food cling to his chin. He looks back at the bowl, his cheeks burning. 

“Awww,” laughs Doc. “What a good boy you are, Champ. Eat up now, come on.”

Tommy doesn’t move as Doc closes the door and locks it behind him. Doc doesn’t notice. He snaps his fingers next to his hip and points at the floor next to his feet, tugging on Will’s lead.

 “Heel up, mutt.”

Will barks out a cough, but he does as he’s told, balancing on shaking hands and knees next to Doc’s leg. Careless fingers ruffle his hair. 

“Good boy. Sit. Back on your heels.” 

Will does. He’s across from Tommy now, but neither of them can look the other in the face. 

“Now, Champ here promised he would eat every bite of that food if I brought you in here. He wanted to know you were okay. Isn’t that good of him? A beautiful boy like him looking out for a dirty mutt like you?” 

It is good of Tommy, and Will knows it. If he’s a dirty mutt, Tommy’s a purebred. Will’s head sinks down below his shoulders. 

Tommy pushes up on his hands. “He isn’t–” 

Doc slaps Tommy hard across the face, and Tommy falls over backward, naked limbs flying. Will forces his eyes back to the floor when he realizes that Doc hasn’t even left Tommy his underwear. He’s never seen Tommy naked before. It isn’t–that’s not the kind of friends they are. 

Will doesn’t move, even though Doc’s dropped his lead. He doesn’t do a thing to help Tommy. How can he? He can’t even fucking breathe. 

“Don’t hurt him,” Tommy begs. “I didn’t mean–it’s just that–” 

Will’s gut twists. Tommy is pleading for him, and all Will can do is sit there, like some dumb fucking dog. Doc grips Tommy by his blond curls and dumps him on his knees in front of the bowl again. 

“You keep your mouth in check, Champ, or I’ll muzzle you too,” Doc says casually. “You lick this bowl clean while the mutt watches; he’s got some weight to drop, so you’ll have to do his eating for him.”

Will shrinks down even lower. 

“Will–” Tommy tries, but Doc shoves his face back into the bowl, holding it there until Tommy is practically drowning in brown slop. Tommy’s breath gurgles; Will can’t breathe at all. 

“Eat,” Doc commands. He lets go of Tommy’s head and then steps back to Will, petting his hair with a gentle hand. Tommy raises his filthy face and mouths at the dog food, his lean body shaking with silent sobs. 

“Thattaboy, Champ. Good boy. And when you’re done, both you dirty boys need a bath. We’ve got to get you two camera ready, add you to the catalog.”

Will’s eyes meet Tommy’s, just for a second. 

They are so fucked.  

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[oh-surprise-its-me]

Ron/chris prompt, if you don't mind?

While still flying together, Ice and Slider go missing, hurt probably, but alive somehow.

Mav goes against orders and secrecy and warns Chris, because Chris deserves to know and Mav needs someone who understand. They don't know what happened, nor if their boyfriends are even alive. They cam only wait for them to come home to them

Aki I will quite literally never mind writing about them.

Mav was off on forced leave when he got the call. He was with Carol. He collapses, falls straight to his knees.

Technically he’s not supposed to know that they’re MIA, but somehow the admiral got a soft spot for him and called.

God it’s only been a year since top gun. He can’t lose Tom without not knowing so much about him.

Oh god.

Chris.

Chris who is in small town in Texas waiting for three weeks from now where they get to meet a ship together and have their boyfriends back.

Mav dodges past Carol and throws up. “It’s fine I can’t talk about it. But they’re MIA. I gotta go.” Carol looks worried. She gives him a hug and a kiss on his head. “Go we love you it’ll be fine.”

He’s gotta tell Chris. He can’t not tell him. He’s known them both for so long this might kill him. He gets the next flight to Texas.

Chris is woken up by pounding on his door. He has a split second where he thinks he missed his shift but no it’s a Saturday and also 4am.

He pulls on pants and wanders out to the front door, he opens it.

It’s Mav.

Chris knows what that means.

He starts crying. He starts shaking so hard he has to hold onto the wall. “It’s Ron isn’t it. He’s dead.”

Mav shakes his head, he pulls Chris into a hug. “It’s both of them. They’re MIA. Neither of us are even supposed to know.”

And just like that. Mav breaks. He realizes how bad this could be. He knows the odds. They collapse together on the porch. Holding on and crying.

“Mav you can’t go after them I can’t loose you too.” Their in bed now. Still holding on to each other. Chris had dug out a sweatshirt that’s so clearly Tom’s that it made Mav a little sick. He pulled it on without hesitation.

He sighs. “I can’t promise because the Navy might make me. But you know I’ll try.”

Chris let’s out a shaky breath. He just starts talking. “I’ve known them since I was 23. I don’t know how to live without them Mav.” He sniffs and smiles. “Have you had the experience of Tommy being really drunk and singing?” Mav shakes his head with a small smile “he doesn’t always losen up still. He’s been getting better though.”

Mav didn’t know that Chris had known them for so long. God no wonder Tom kept Ron’s accident a secret. That would’ve actually killed Chris.

~

It’s been three days. Three days of no sleep. Just straight walking.

Ron honestly doesn’t know exactly where they are. He just knows that Tom’s arm is broken and he’s got a hell of an concussion, and that they need to find people soon.

Fortunately they found water yesterday and have been following that. Where there’s water there’s people.

Tom hasn’t let go of his hand since yesterday. At first Ron thought it was so keep track of him. But the longer Ron watches he thinks it’s something more. The way Tom screamed when they had to land with their parachutes and how Ron had to sit for a second after landing.

He guesses it reminds him of a few years ago.

They’ve been hearing planes go over for the last day. People must be looking for them.

He hopes they find them before the cut on his leg makes him bleed out.

He can’t do that to Tommy.

God Chris.

If he thinks about Chris right now he won’t be able to focus.

“You doing okay Tommy?” “I want to go home and curl up with Mav. I wanna watch from the couch with him and see you and Chris be in the kitchen together dancing.”

Ron let’s out a small sob. He laughs. “I know. I do to.”

They keep going.

~

They’re back in California together. Chris refused to let Mav go back by himself, which Mav might never admit but he appreciates it. He hates sleeping by himself now. It’s been almost a year of sleeping with Tom. He’s too used to someone else breathing.

They share a bed. Chris wakes up with nightmares almost as often as Mav.

Mav had no idea Chris had so many nightmares. Thought he’d be free from that since he’s a civilian.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

The amount of times he’s woken up with Tom or Ron’s name in his mouth makes Mav think there’s a bit too much history of their boys coming back home to Chris injured.

They run on the beach together before Mav has to go to work. Chris has basically cleaned their entire house. He said he’s going to start on the flowerbeds next.

When they shower they cry. They both pretend to not hear it but they sob.

~

They stumbled into an air base. Tom can’t believe their luck. He turns to grab onto Ron but sees how pale he is. It’s been almost 9 days. He’s not shocked at how pale he is but it’s concerning. They’re in the med bay when a nurse asks how long Ron’s been bleeding.

Tom has no idea. “He never said he was. I didn’t know.”

She nods and touches his hair. It reminds him so much of his mom that he starts crying. She looks startled but ends up holding his hand until Ron is back. He’s got a blood drip.

“Hey Tommy.”

“Hey Ron. Ready to go home?”

~

Mav gets the call at around 6 am. They’re just about to leave on a run. When he hangs up he grabs onto Chris. “They found them.”

Chris collapses against the counter. He can’t believe it. “Alive?” “Alive.” He slides into the floor.

“They’re coming home today. Should be here by 7pm.”

“Oh god Mav.”

Chris starts crying with a smile this time. He knows it will be bad. Missing for 12 days will make it bad. He can’t wait to see Tom and Ron.

-

Chris can’t stop bouncing lightly in place. He’s technically not supposed to be here for this but Mav got him in.

They’re both walking off the plane.

Oh god.

When they finally reach the entrance to the building they see each other. Ron gasps. “Chris?”

“Hey flyboy.” Ron starts crying. It’s the first time since he found out they’re fine he’s cried. He grabs onto Chris. He doesn’t care who sees.

He can see Mav and Tom holding on just as tight.

They pull away and switch hugging. Ron and Mav hug for much shorter amount of time then Chris and Tommy.

They all hold hands when going into the hospital, they just have to get their blood tested and then they can go home.

4 months off.

Ron doesn’t want to say there’s an upside to this but he thinks there might be one.

-

They all go back to Tom and Mav’s place. “Chris what the fuck did you do to the flower beds?”

They’re huge. Tom doesn’t have any abilities to keep plants alive. Mav is worse then he is.

“Guess I’ll have to come back and take care of them then.”

Tom loops his unbroken arm around Chris and presses a kiss to his head. “Yeah you will.”

Ron smiles. He reaches out and puts a hand on Mav’s shoulder. “Thank you. Thank you for taking care of each other. You’ve got no idea how much it means to me.”

Mav smiles back, “Of course I was gonna tell him. I knew how badly I would want to know. I couldn’t leave him in Texas just waiting.”

“Hey y’all coming?” Ron smiles at Chris. He thinks it might be time to try and get married.

Maybe not legally. But physically. Mentally.

He’s got 4 months he can talk him into that. But now? He passes Mav over to Tom and takes Chris back. “Yeah we’re coming.” He kisses him. Doesn’t even care that they’re on the front porch.

He hears Mav make a shocked sound and knows Tom is kissing him also.

He pulls away. “Come on I wanna hold you.”

Chris smiles up at him. “Come on Tommy, I wanna watch you try and figure out things without your hand.”

They end up in the bedroom. Chris is leaned under Tom’s shoulder. Broken arm in his lap next to Ron’s head. Ron’s got a hand tossed over Tom’s legs holding onto Mav’s shirt. Mav is curled almost exactly like Ron. Chris keeps running his hands through Ron’s hair, Tom’s petting Mav almost the exact same. He can’t believe they’re as fine as they are.

He’s not religious. But he says thank you to the universe anyways.