#I update faster on Ao3

[shu-box-puns]

I never would have given you to them; not for anything (Tsu'tey x Reader)

Last Chapter <- Part 4 -> Next Chapter

If you prefer to read on Ao3, you can find the fic here!

Summary: The memory hurts, but does you no harm.

Word Count: 8,978

Reader uses they/them pronouns.

With every room, Tsu’tey was shown a snippet of the past. 

Some things he remembered, and others, he knew, belonged to the mind he was currently trespassing in. In all of them, he reached out. And in all of them, his hand caused their disappearance.

By the third room, Tsu’tey knew what Eywa was trying to tell him. He finally understood, but the torment continued regardless.

Now, he found himself back in Hell’s Gate, crouched awkwardly in a laboratory that was not built for someone of his height. Link units lined the far walls, whilst military personnel manned the machines instead of the usual white lab-coated scientists. 

The room was teaming with yet more military people. All in uniformed lines, waiting to be called up.

One by one, Tsu’tey observed as important looking men and women stepped up to empty link units with papers in hand. Predictably, they would hand the papers to the officer manning the machines, who checked it over before motioning for them to climb into the link units. They laid down, and the lids would close. 

Tsu’tey watched from the sidelines, feeling drained and weary. 

Out of nowhere, he spotted his human mate in one of the far lines. They held their papers and chin high, eyes burning as they had been in that very first corridor, although the rage tinting this memory was significantly more subdued, as if it had had plenty of time to stew and calm. Carefully, Tsu’tey rounded the room to approach them, watching as they stepped up to the link unit when their name was called. They were all business now, following orders as they climbed into the unit and laid down, falling still as they allowed the lid to be closed on them.

Curious, Tsu’tey approached. He had witnessed the scientists linking up to their avatars once or twice, and knew they would lay in these pods for hours at a time, before emerging sweaty and exhausted, but beaming every time. These military people did not emerge smiling. They hauled themselves out of the link units with scowls and menacing rolls of their shoulders. They oozed aggression and confidence, and it made the back of Tsu’tey neck itch. 

It made him want to grab his mate and drag them out of this horrible prison. Back out into the open forests of Pandora, where the enemy was securely out of sight and he had the upper hand. Of course, he could not do that here. He was trapped within a memory, still struggling to find the real recom, whilst his family guarded his unconscious body. 

His attention was drawn back to the link unit as it beeped and clicked open. Instinctively, he stepped back, expecting his mate or perhaps their recom form to come rolling out. Instead, the lid swung up and Tsu’tey found himself looking down into a room. The link bed had hollowed out and left behind an opening barely big enough for him to slip through.

Lips tightening, Tsu’tey glanced back up to the room and realised all the doors had disappeared. There were only windows that peered out into the corridors beyond the link room. Clearly, there was only one place for him to go.

Sighing tiredly, Tsu’tey readied himself. No one glanced his way as he approached the unit. No one seemed to hear the metal squeak under his weight as he sat on the lip and swung his feet to dangle down into the hole nestled within. Tsu’tey went completely unobserved as he shuffled forward and dropped through the opening into the room below. 

The ceiling closed up behind him, sealing him in the second room. Swallowing down the immediate panic at being trapped, Tsu’tey righted himself and forced himself to take in his surroundings. 

The room was small, barely the size of his tent back in High Camp, with tall, blinding white walls and a high ceiling. The air smelt stale. Sterile and unnaturally clean. As if the room hadn’t been aired for several years. Tucked against the far wall was a gurney big enough for an avatar to lay down on, whilst the walls directly opposite consisted of ceiling to floor one way mirrors that gave the illusion of the room being bigger than it was. Absently, Tsu’tey realised he didn’t need to crouch in here.

Straightening, he took a tentative step deeper into the room, only for paper to crinkle underfoot. He paused, lifting his foot to find those same papers everyone had been holding upstairs, littered across the spotless floor. They had been ripped up and left to float down in disorganised clusters. Every now and again, he caught sight of blue font, but found himself unable to read it.

In the far corner, tucked behind the gurney, someone sniffed wetly. 

Tsu’tey’s ears pricked as his head snapped up. Quiet shuffling suggested someone was curling in tighter on themselves. Tsu’tey wasn’t sure whether it was the lack of scent in the air that made him nauseous, or if it was the thought of finding another broken phantom tucked in that corner. 

Tentatively, he rounded the gurney, minding to keep a polite distance regardless of who he found seeking refuge behind it. Slowly, a shoe came into view, then a leg, both of which were swiftly yanked backwards and out of sight.

Amused, Tsu’tey huffed slightly and took another step. Bit by bit, he found his human mate curled up in the corner, quivering as they tucked themself up small. Their eyes watched him wearily, as Tsu’tey looked back with curiosity. 

That was new. Tsu’tey observed, holding their unsteady gaze. The others hadn’t noticed him until the memory drew to a close. 

Neither had they appeared so small. Of course, Tsu’tey was not surprised by the size difference, he vividly recalled how tall they had stood beside him. But here, there was something different. Something missing. As if someone had reached in and removed their spine, leaving their body to crumble without the support, curled in small and vulnerable. 

He also noticed the lack of feeling in this memory. The other phantoms had all portrayed grief or rage or regret, this one just looked tired.

“What do you want?” They croaked, their voice sounding as if it hadn’t been used in quite some time. Privately, Tsu’tey was impressed by how they managed to keep it somewhat steady, despite the lines of exhaustion carved into them. He noted that they were clothed in a simple tank top and cargo pants, the equivalent of the recom’s attire when they had been dragged into his tent.

How intriguing. Tsu’tey tilted his head, knowing that his ears were fanning wide in interest. His mate glanced from them to his face, and then checked what his tail was doing. That helped him figure out vaguely when this memory was, since they didn’t appear to be afraid of him at all, just cautious. 

“I was looking for you.” Tsu’tey replied honestly, his English thick on his tongue but still understandable. 

Their expression did not change. The exhaustion remaining the most prominent emotion on their face.

“Did you break in here to kill me?” They asked him. 

Tsu’tey felt his ears fall at the accusation. His throat was suddenly tight as he held up his empty hands and wiggled his fingers to emphasise that he came unarmed. Their expression did not hint to relief.

“Guess not.” They sighed, almost sounding disappointed.

For a long, drawn out moment, they simply looked at him. Watching. Calculating. No doubt drinking in his differences from the Tsu’tey at the time of this memory. And in return, Tsu’tey looked right back, his eyes flicking from their attire, to their face and then back again. Scrambling for clues or hidden meanings. In the other memories, he had been mostly an observer, with hardly anyone noticing him until the scene neared its end. And now that he had been addressed and seen so thoroughly, he found himself thrown off.

The human did not blink as Tsu’tey stared. They didn’t do a lot of anything really, other than breathe and watch him right back. It unnerved him enough that he had to look away first. 

Instead, he decided to take in his surroundings once more. Perhaps an exit, or a face behind the mirrors which would allow him a greater understanding of what exactly he was supposed to be doing here.

Instead, he noticed a holopad discarded near the head of the gurney, which he somehow hadn’t noticed upon dropping in through the ceiling. Or perhaps, it hadn’t been there to begin with. In this weird place between consciousness and reality, Tsu’tey had found that objects tended to appear and disappear on a whim with no rhyme or reason to it. As such, he wasn’t overly surprised to discover that the holopad was displaying a picture of his human mate. 

In the video, they were sat in the link room upstairs, their mouth frozen mid-word due to how the video had been paused. But he noted that they were still dressed in their usual military attire, with their beaded necklace barely visible above the collar.

“They had all of us film those.” His mate explained absently, “even though there wasn’t a guarantee they’d even use our file for the programme. I just did it for the information.” “Your file?” Tsu’tey pried, his eyes flickering back to them only to be guided downwards when they motioned to the paper confetti strewn across the floor. “Ah.” 

With a deep, steadying breath, they continued to explain. “The company didn’t use all of us. Just a select few of their favourites or most competent. Somehow, I must have convinced them I’m trustworthy.” They laughed dryly, “how though is fucking beyond me. I’m fucking terrible at this.”

If Tsu’tey weren’t so tired, he might have contradicted them. Afterall, they had been offering up information for weeks before the RDA had decided to make a move, and even then, it hadn’t been because of them. Instead, his mind faltered at the new information. 

It hadn’t even occurred to him that the demons had had plenty of sky people memories lined up in preparation for their unnatural experiment. It hadn’t crossed his mind that there had been a chance that his mate wouldn’t have been one of them. The idea that the last few days had only occurred because of coincidence stumped him. If anything had been different, then his mate would still be resting, still be buried in the Wells of Souls, but instead, they were here. And he had no idea how they felt about that.

“You are a convincing ally.” Tsu’tey said instead, shoving all of his panic down to ensure that his voice came out smooth. “People want to trust you.”

They laughed with no humour. “Must not have carried over.” 

Tsu’tey frowned. Something in the back of his mind flickered back to life, letting him know that this interaction was not turning out like the others.

“God, what a mess.” His mate continued, a small, bitter chuckle slipping out of them. “Should have just stayed dead honestly.” They continued to say, making Tsu’tey’s stomach go queasy with unease. 

He turned back to them, no longer surprised to find the recom body curled up in the corner instead of their human form. The shifts had happened randomly within every room, even as the recom’s personality and decisions had remained consistent. “Would’ve saved you all a shit tonne of trouble.”

Tsu’tey looked at them now. Really looked at them. At the distant glint in their half-lidded eyes, the droop of their ears, the slump of their shoulders. How they were leaning heavily against the wall, loosely holding their knees. All the fight seemed to have seeped out of them, and somehow, that was more terrifying than any of the fury or desperation from earlier memories. 

“You don’t mean that.” Tsu’tey hissed, his voice tight. His mate refused to look at him now, all curled in on themselves in the corner so that Tsu’tey wouldn’t be able to reach them unless he moved the gurney to the side. “Please tell me you don’t mean that.” He sounded desperate, even to his own ears.

Their tail lightly tapped the floor. Once. Pause. Twice. Another pause. 

“It would have been easier though, wouldn’t it?”

Their tail tapped again.

“Perhaps.” Tsu’tey agreed hesitantly. “But you don’t say things like that. You’ve never said things like that!”

The comparison struck a nerve. “And look where that’s got me!” They snapped back, eyes jumping to find his. Their lip curled up into the beginning of a snarl. “Alone! Again!” 

“You’re not alon-”

And it were as if he had found a loose thread in a loom and tugged with all his might. Before his eyes, the recom unravelled. Any calm, any hint of control they were harbouring, abruptly shattered as they snapped. “Cut the crap, Tsu’tey!” They snarled, a growl slipping into their voice now. The way their face twisted was like no expression Tsu’tey had ever seen on them before. “I betrayed the RDA, again. The first fucking chance I got. And somehow Quaritch knows now and he’ll stop at nothing to kill me. The clan is,” they swallowed painfully, “different. But what the hell was I expecting? It’s been fifteen years, of COURSE it’s different.” They were breathing fast now, their previous weariness at Tsu’tey’s presence having been completely swept away. “And I have a son. We have a son!”

They threw themselves forward, legs crossing as their elbows slammed down onto their knees. They buried their face into their hands, ears swivelling with the sheer shock of it all. “How the hell did I end up with a kid? I don’t even remember adopting him, but fuck, I know I loved him. I had it so good, and now, it’s gone! We had everything! And I don’t fucking remember any of it!”

Tsu’tey was left speechless once again as the recom curled in on themself, dry heaves making their back jump. “It’s all gone.” They repeated brokenly. 

Tsu’tey’s eyes widened as he watched them break down. Their sobs were deep, shuddering things, heavy and heart wrenching. It made him want to rush forward and scoop them up in his arms. To hold them close and shield them from the world with his much larger body until they felt whole again. He wanted to smooth down their hair, and whisper meaningless reassurance as he held them tight. But most of all, he wanted the tears to stop. It was like an itch he couldn’t reach. A burning need to soothe their pain. Rage, he could deal with. Regret, he could appease. But this, this grief was raw and painfully fresh.

Hesitantly, Tsu’tey reached out, but stopped himself. 

How dare he attempt to wipe away the evidence of their sorrow, when he had had a hand in placing it there. How dare he want to offer words of comfort, when he had tried to kill them before. 

Tsu’tey’s throat was tight as he cursed himself for not reacting differently. For not listening the first time round and avoiding this entire mess. Maybe, in another universe, it wouldn’t have been his fault they were here, injured and alone in the forest with only children for company. 

So he just stood there, frozen and helpless, waiting for those sobs to subside on their own, his hand still outstretched. Tsu’tey vowed to himself that for as long as he should live, he would offer them a better life than the one that had been stolen. 

It took several, long minutes for them to calm themselves. With a snivel, they rubbed harshly at the skin beneath their eyes. Clearly, they had needed it. 

“Spider watches your old security logs.” Tsu’tey found himself offering, noting in his peripheral, how the recom stilled at the wobble in his voice. “It helps him, to see you. To hear your voice. Sometimes I sit down and watch them with him.” “He’s a good kid.” The recom agreed bitterly, their voice muffled. “You did a good job with him.”

“Perhaps.” Tsu’tey agreed noncommittally. “But he is still young, and he has missed you, I have-”

Abruptly, they caught his gaze. Tsu’tey stopped talking.

Something in their expression had changed, although he couldn’t place it. Their response was simple but devastating. “It will pass.” 

The words startled him. 

His silence allowed his mate to keep talking, their eyes watery and distant. “Missing a ghost, will not help him to heal. You know this.”

Tsu’tey dropped to his knees. Panic clawed up the back of his throat as their expression shuttered, their emotions sweeping out of their features. Shutting him out. 

“No. Don’t. Pleas-” “I think it’s time to wash off your paint, Tsu’tey. Don’t you?” They said, “you need to stop punishing yourself. You can’t keep living like this.”

“How did you- how do-?” He cut himself off with a growl of frustration. At this point, the words were beyond him, the English growing awkward and clunky on his tongue. He slapped his tail against the floor in irritation.

Across from him, the recom managed to collect themselves. 

On legs that shook like a newborn pa’li, they stood, leaning heavily on the gurney as they went. They were tall, he realised, having only seen them kneeling and cowering before.

<”Where are you going?”> Tsu’tey demanded, panic creeping in now. He didn’t think he would survive another door. 

The recom paused. They made a point of surveying the blank walls, eyes squinting in the bright light. <”I can’t stay here.”> They told him, a mirror explanation to the one they had offered when Neytiri had them kneeling on Mo’at’s floor. <”And neither can you.”> They stood, and on shaky feet began walking towards a door that had appeared in the far wall of the door. Tsu’tey had been so focused on them, that he hadn’t even registered the familiar pull of the exit coming into being. 

He was on his feet in moments. Hands shaking as he watched before his eyes as the recom changed once more. Before his eyes, dirt and blood began dotting their blue skin, concealing their stripes under filth and injuries. He watched as makeshift leaf bandages wound around their torso, clinging tight to an injury Tsu’tey couldn’t see. They hunched over themselves, an arm winding around their stomach to add pressure.

They hobbled towards the door. Tsu’tey reached out. His long fingers shook as they hovered in midair. The recom froze when his searching hand found theirs. Large, terrified eyes caught Tsu’tey’s and held. Their wrist was warm in his grasp, solid and real, their pulse thundering under the thin skin. He waited. One breath. Two. They did not disappear.

The relief that flooded him almost had him falling to his knees.

<”Found you.”> 

The room shook. Lights flickered and the gurney slammed into the wall.

“Shit.” The recom breathed, the arm around their stomach shooting out to slam against the wall in an attempt to keep their footing. Tsu’tey’s grip on them turned supportive as he braced himself. Before the first had even subsided, a second, more insistent quake shook the room. Overhead, the lights swung on their wires as the sound of footsteps had stopped. “We have to get out of here!” They flicked their wrist, fingers twisting to grasp Tsu’tey’s wrist in return. Their grip was firm; unbreakable. “Come on!” They snarled, yanking with surprising strength and dragging the surprised hunter through the now open door.

>_<

Before he even opened his eyes, Tsu’tey knew he was resurfacing from the bond. That that last door had been the door.

Beyond the shield of his closed eyelids, he could hear disembodied voices yelling at one another. Tsu’tey huffed, typical of the Sully's, to devolve into a verbal sparring match the moment he was occupied. Lo’ak no doubt offered up a ridiculous plan that reminded Jake too much of his younger, wreckless self, and therefore sent the man into a panic. 

Blarily, Tsu’tey managed to peel his eyelids open, the sound of raised voices helping to rouse him. Gently, he reached down and disconnected from the recom, who was also beginning to come round. 

Before waking up properly, Tsu’tey wanted to take a moment to look them over. To study their face and begin to learn where the similarities began and where they ended. He wanted to start over, to soothe their fear and take them home, where they would be safe. Somewhere where he could apologise-

With a jarring suddenness, Tsu’tey realised Spider wasn’t at his side. 

Tearing his eyes from the recom, he wasted precious seconds glancing stupidly down at his empty side, where Spider’s warm little body was not curled up next to him. Nor was he there to bring Tsu’tey out of the bond with his voice. And that alone sent alarm zinging through Tsu’tey’s nerves. 

It was then that he realised he did not recognise all of the yelling voices.

His bow was in hand before he’d decided on reaching for it. 

“Don’t make any hasty decisions colonel.” Jake instructed from the foot of Eywa’s throne.

With a start, Tsu’tey realised that he was the only one still perched between the roots, whereas the rest of the Sully family minus Kiri stood on the moss, their knives drawn as Jake attempted to negotiate with yet another recom. A demon that Tsu’tey distantly recognised as the human that had died in the metal skeleton by the old compound. The one the soldiers addressed as ‘sir’. 

And the demon had Tsu’tey’s son by the hair, a knife pressed across the base of his throat. How he had managed it was beyond Tsu’tey, but he knew that the demon would pay for such a blatant show of disrespect.

At the demon’s back, on his right, stood a bald soldier. His hair shaved apart from the single braid that protected his kuru. This one had somehow gotten ahold of Kiri and was holding her in a similar stance. The sight stoked the flames of Tsu’tey’s rage.

Drawing himself up off of his knees and into a low crouch, Tsu’tey notched an arrow and aimed. The movement drew the enemy’s attention. And Tsu’tey hissed as his burning eyes met that of the demon and held his stare.

“Release!” He snarled, the English rusty and disjointed as it slid off his tongue, but he could tell the demon understood by the minute raising of his ears. 

The colonel looked him up and down, no doubt noting his assortment of bands and beads which symbolised his elevated status within the clan. Distantly, Tsu’tey wished he were upon a pa’li or something more threatening than the Great Mother’s throne, just so he could glare down at the demon with the silent threat of charging after him if he decided to run.

Predictably, the colonel did not back down.

“Tell your friend to stand down or I’m killing one of ‘em.” The demon ordered, eyes trained on Tsu’tey even though he was clearly talking to Jake, who stood the closest to the recom, with Neytiri practically glued to his side, her bow clenched tightly in one hand. 

“Tsu’tey.” The marine warned, chancing a glance over his shoulder to Tsu’tey, who’s tail writhed in rage. 

At his back, Neteyam shifted uneasily. His glare trained solely on the recoms, his knife held at a threatening angle, ready to jump in should the colonel take Jake’s distraction as an invitation.

Tsu’tey did not want to listen to reason. He was a predator. A father. Fuming and coiled to protect his own. 

He had wanted this demon dead before, for what he had done to HomeTree. For abandoning Spider in the first place. But now-

Tsu’tey tightened his arm, pulling the arrow back.

Now, he wanted to send this abomination back to Eywa personally. 

“Tsu’tey!” Jake repeated through gritted teeth.

<“He has my son!”> 

<”Not for long.”> Jake promised, in that infuriatingly determined way of his. <”Just let me…”> He trailed off, allowing the silence to speak for him. For several seconds, Tsu’tey held his posture, expression positively thunderous. The demon did not so much as flinch, not even when the hunter’s arms began aching from the strain of keeping the arrow notched. 

His eyes briefly flickered down to Spider who was holding perfectly still. Despite the fear in his expression, the boy did not shake. There was quiet defiance there, accompanied by a strong foundation of trust. Trust that Tsu’tey would make the correct decision to keep him safe. 

<”Olo’eyktan!”> Neytiri snapped, fixing him with her most lethal of looks. The one that implored him to think clearly. And reminded him that they were in the same boat.

Tsu’tey drew his arrow back an additional inch, debating, only to loosen the tension and allow the projectile to land uselessly in his hand. Even if he killed the colonel, the other would slit Kiri’s throat before he could ready a second arrow. It would be too risky. Not to mention, Neytiri would have his head if anything happened to Kiri on his watch.

The demon grinned in victory. 

“Good choice.” He praised condescendingly, to which Tsu’tey hissed harshly. “Now throw it down.” 

Tsu’tey glared right back, holding onto his bow defiantly. 

The demon did not take kindly to that and turned his fury on all of them. “All of you! Drop the knives!” Almost in unison, Spider and Kiri let out a cut off yelps as the knife at their throats were dug in.

Jake did as ordered. His shoulders impossibly tight as he allowed his knife to clatter to the floor. As some twisted reward, the demon holding Kiri, relieved some of the pressure on her neck, causing the teen to gasp in relief.

The action prompted Neytiri to follow suit. Her father’s bow was carefully lowered to the moss, her arrows tossed down with it. Tsu’tey noted how she didn’t bother reaching for the knife to do the same and simply allowed her hand to remain close to it, partly concealing the sheath from view. Under her breath, she snapped at Lo’ak and Neteyam to do the same, urging them in Na’vi to make a show of it. 

They did. 

Neytiri slid her eyes up Eywa’s throne to Tsu’tey, who immediately took notice of his friend’s expression. This was not surrender. Not in her eyes. Just a means at which to succeed. With a deep breath, Tsu’tey decided to perform like she expected and threw down his bow, which bounced off the roots and landed somewhere in the moss. Neytiri dipped her chin but said nothing more as she snapped her attention back to the grinning colonel.

“Good. Very good Sully.” The demon complimented, “it seems you’re much better at taking orders when it’s not just you. Noted.” He allowed his knife to stop cutting into Spider, and instead hoisted the blade higher, forcing the boy to lift his chin to avoid a new injury. Tsu’tey blood boiled at the thin line of red left behind in the blade’s wake. 

Behind the colonel, the demon holding Kiri shifted his stance. Knife still held firmly to the teen’s throat, the man reached for his belt and pulled out a pair of bright orange handcuffs. With a nod from his superior, he tossed them to Jake who fumbled to catch them. 

“Put the cuffs on Sully and no one has to get hurt.”

<”Jake-”> Neytiri spoke up, her hand falling to her mate’s wrist, trying to discourage any rash decisions, but she was powerless in the wake of his earnestness. 

<”Whatever happens, stay with the kids.”> He whispered, causing Neytiri’s expression to break wide open in panic. Jake smiled sadly, reaching up to place his hand over her’s and squeezed tightly. 

<”Do not be stupid.”> Neytiri hissed, before relenting and stepping back. She pulled Tuk with her, keeping her youngest daughter firmly shielded from view with her body. Lo’ak stepped back with her, flanking her side with a glare on his face that matched his father. 

Neteyam stayed with Jake. Furious. His upper lip was twitching constantly, a sure sign he was one bad move away from letting out a snarl and throwing caution to the wind. 

Jake drew himself up, inhaling deeply before returning his attention to the colonel. “Let up on some of that pressure.” He ordered smoothly, aiming for a tone that would guide but not offend. “The kid’s gonna pass out.”

The colonel’s face split into a wide grin, 

Whatever cutting response he was gearing up to throw back, however, never reached Tsu’tey’s ears, as he was distracted by movement in the corner of his eye. Glancing down, he startled as his mate finally began moving. Up until this point, they had been entirely motionless, as if caught in a pleasant slumber. But now, they were shifting and quietly groaning.

With blurry eyes and jerky movements, they somehow hauled their battered body up into a sitting position, whilst Tsu’tey stared dumbly. The conversation on the moss had also fallen quiet at the introduction of yet another player in the game. <”Zaza-”> Spider whispered softly, before biting off a wince as the knife at his throat dug in to silence him.

The name caused the recom’s ears to flick up in recognition. 

Rubbing at their temple, they struggled to get their feet under them. They were still mightily unsteady from the blood loss, so much so that Tsu’tey couldn’t stop himself from stepping forward to offer a hand.

The movement caught them wildly off guard. 

With a yelp, the recom stumbled back. Their arms windmilling frantically to keep their footing on the uneven roots, only for their entire body to flinch and throw them off balance when they realised it was Tsu’tey stepping towards them. They stumbled backwards, only to trip on a high root and promptly fall over the side of the throne and land in a painful heap of limbs on the moss below. 

The colonel let out a loud, obnoxious laugh. “Finally awake then Private.” The demon mused, “thought these savages got to you before I could.”

The heap on the floor let out another yelp, as they scrambled to sit upright. If the recom’s eyes were wide before, they were practically the size of the moon as they slowly turned their head to find the colonel standing a few short feet away. “Colonel.” They greeted shakily, “fancy seeing you here sir.”

The colonel glared down his nose at them.

“Wainfleet.” The recom continued, nodding mockingly to the demon holding Kiri. The sunglasses on his nose obscured his eyes, but Tsu’tey knew he was glaring.

“Ah shit.” The recom muttered to themselves before waving sheepishly at Jake and the rest of the Sullys. “Long time no see guys.” They glanced briefly up at Tsu'tey, still perched upon the throne. “Olo’eyktan.”

Tsu’tey’s expression shuttered. The fear tinted respect that oozed into their tone made his stomach turn.

Just as quickly as he was addressed, Tsu’tey was forgotten as the recom’s gaze fell back on the other demons and their hostages. Before his eyes, Tsu’tey observed as something in their posture shifted. 

With all the swagger of someone still heavily injured, the recom collected themselves and scrambled to their feet. They made a show of dusting themselves off before straightening. “I’m assuming Mansk called you then.” “That would be right. Led me right to ya.” The colonel confirmed, the recom having thoroughly captured his attention. “Nice. Wanna get on with this then?”

“I’ll deal with you later.” The colonel snapped, eyes returning to Jake who was turning the orange cuffs over and over again in his hands. He made no move to put them on, his attention completely on Tsu’tey’s mate, waiting to see their next move.

“Oh.” The recom huffed, all theatrics and flowery words. “I thought you’d want to get right into it.” 

Tsu’tey felt his confusion mounting. Only seconds before, their spiritual form had been having a breakdown about being found by the colonel. What had changed?

The colonel sighed heavily, the blade at Spider’s neck relaxing now that his attention had been captured elsewhere. Smartly, the kid did not react, and simply sucked in some deep, welcoming breaths. 

“You’re dying, Private.” Quaritch spat, as if it were obvious. “You’re the least of my troubles.” “Of course. Yeah, I mean, you’re probably right.” The recom agreed, glancing down the line of their body, to their blood soaked tank, and the torn state of their trousers and embarrassing lack of footwear. They glanced up, their head tilting dangerously. “But I always thought you were an eye for an eye kind of man. All about vengeance and settling the score. I never dreamed I’d get off so easily after everything I’ve done.” 

<”What are you doing?”> Tsu’tey hissed, watching the recom’s ear flick back to him. They ignored him, or simply did not have good enough of a grasp on Na’vi to understand. “If you know what’s good for you, Private, you’ll shut it. Now!” tTe colonel snapped. 

In the next moment, his attention had snapped back to Jake as his knife once again dug back into Spider’s neck, carving a new line into his flesh. “Hop to it Sully, I don’t got all damn day.” Jake didn’t move, his head snapping from the recom to the colonel in quick succession. He didn’t move to pull on the handcuffs.

The recom took one, deliberate side step away from Eywa’s throne. The colonel’s attention was immediately back on them. They tilted their head and smirked sweetly. 

“The hell are you playing at Private?” “I’m just a little hurt, sir.” They told him, their steps turning into a languid saunter as they moved away from the Tree and began putting some considerable distance between themselves and the Sullys. As a result, Quaritch had to turn with them to prevent them from slipping into his blind spot.

“I mean,” the recom continued, their tone as sweet as a lover in the dead of night. “I repeatedly backstabbed you for years, and you’re practically letting me go. And then we’ve got Jake, some random marine that only screwed you over after three months of knowing you. I’d assume, you’d be more hurt by my betrayal, rather than a man you hardly know, Colonel.” They paused their strides, smiling still. “I thought we had something special.”

If Tsu’tey didn’t know any better, he might have thought the recom were flirting with him.

The colonel stiffened. Something dangerous slipped into his tone as his head moved with the recom, calculating their every step. “Whatever game you’re playing Private, I’m not interested.”

“Come on,” they drawled, “you’re no fun.”

“And you’re wasting my bleeding time!” The colonel snapped back.

They shrugged, all false bravado and pointy teeth. 

Wainfleet, who had been as distracted as his commanding officer up until this point, promptly snapped out of whatever trance the recom had put them under. With a growl, he turned his attention to Sully, whilst the colonel glared at the recom.

“We don’t have all day. Move it Sully.” He snapped, tightening his grip on Kiri so she yelped and jerked against the knife. Jake took half a step forward, to which Wainfleet tightened his hold. 

“Ah ah ah, Corporal.” The recom sang, beginning to circle again. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“The hell are you going to do about it?” Wainfleet immediately challenged. 

“Lyle!” The colonel cut in warningly, his second in command promptly backed down. “Watch my sixth.” He continued, as the recom’s leisurely strolling finally took them behind him and out of sight. 

“Sir.” 

The recom had stopped walking again, their tail flicking every now and again. Slow and relaxed, despite the pale sheen to their skin and how their freckles barely glowed. If Tsu’tey weren’t actively looking at their bloodied shirt, he might have been fooled into believing they were fine. 

Their tone was chipper as they responded to Wainfleet’s jab. “Pandora is a dangerous place.” They told their old comrades. “But it’s deadly the moment you fall out of favour with the clans who roam it.”

“You and whose army?” Quaritch immediately challenged with a scoff. “You’re no na’vi. These <i>freaks</i> won’t help you.” He momentarily removed the blade from Spider’s throat to motion to the Sully’s and Tsu’tey, who were all motionless on the sidelines as they watched the recom work. The colonel looked awfully confident for a fly unknowingly caught in a hungry spider’s web. “You’ve seen what they do to us.” 

The recom pulled their lips back and smiled menacingly. “I don’t need them any more than I needed you.” They said sweetly, and began circling again. Winding both men up tighter and tighter with unease. “In fact, you’re no longer of use to me, colonel.” “What in hell has gotten into you?” The colonel asked, eyebrows scrunching now in confusion. “What freaky plants have you been hooking up to out here?”

“Only the important ones.” The recom replied merrily, “and now that that’s out of the way, and I finally have your attention sir, I’m ready to repent.” “What are you on about?” 

The way the recom had positioned themselves, had Quaritch and Wainfleet’s attention completely off of the Sullys. Neytiri had taken the opening by the throat and scooped up Tuk. Eyes never leaving the enemy, she deposited the quivering child into Lo’ak’s arms, who took her easily. Tuk cuddled into him, allowing Lo’ak to run soothing fingers through her braids as he offered quiet reassurance. 

Catching onto her intentions, Jake firmly pushed Neteyam away from his side, silencing the teen when he instinctively tried to argue. The marine looked pointedly at his other two kids, a look which Neteyam followed and immediately understood. Between them, both parents pointed the trio in the direction of the Tree without drawing the enemy’s attention. The children went willingly enough, their anxiety obvious. 

Tsu’tey offered his hand to them, helping them over the roots and behind the tree. His attention was still firmly on the odd scene occurring out on the moss, but he offered soft reassurance where he could. 

<”Keep quiet.”> He whispered, to which only Tuk nodded. <”This will be over soon.”> They slid out of sight, and Tsu’tey took the opportunity to hop down from the throne. The motion drew the attention of Wainfleet, but he did nothing but watch. In return. Tsu’tey did not charge him, even though he desperately wanted to.

“-taken a lot of shit that doesn’t belong to me. Including your private documents, personal keycards and military supplies.” The recom listed out on their fingers. It seemed they had taken their role as distraction incredibly seriously. And Quaritch was predictably eating it up. 

“You little snake.” The colonel snarled, fury evident in the thrash of his tail.

Tsu’tey sidled up closer to Jake’s side, the movement completely unobserved by both recoms. <”What are they doing?”> He hissed to Jake who shrugged, the cuffs half hanging off one of his wrists.

Somehow, his mate had heard him, despite standing a considerable distance away. The next words that slipped off their tongue, dripped with fake bravado so thick that Tsu’tey could almost smell it. “Why, I am confessing of course.” They declared dramatically, their arms spread wide in some confident mockery of a repenting sinner. They cackled, high and breathless. More pained than mirthful. “God this is gonna feel fantastic to finally gloat about.” 

It was then that their odd behaviour clicked for Tsu’tey. This was not the bravado of a soldier seeking recognition. Nor was it a hunter boasting about a long and tedious hunt. The confidence was all for show. Every perfectly selected word was laced with pride and oozing badly concealed desperation. The closest thing he could compare it to was an animal attempting to convince a predator that they would make a more appetising meal than the younger prey in its clutches. “Oh, but I’m sure you know that colonel. You’re an awfully smart man.” They continued condescendingly, “surely you had to know I was disloyal from the beginning.” Quaritch had gone unnervingly still, so the recom continued. “Surely, you weren’t convinced that Jake arranged all of those inconveniences. Come on sir, you remember it like it was yesterday, don’t you? All those security plans going missing. All those dozers getting decimated by Omaticayan hunting parties within minutes of entering the territory. All the inconsistencies in the armoury. Those missing weapons that no one seemed to be able to explain.”

“I don’t believe you.” The colonel said plainly. “Not even you are that bright Private. Besides, you had no reason to betray me, I treated you as my own.”

“That’s what I wanted you to think.” They told him. “You can’t have orchestrated all of that.” Wainfleet jumped in. They grinned. “Who else? Jake certainly does have the brains. He’s all brawn and eye candy. He may have had a hand in killing you, sir, but I essentially handed him the knife.” They explained. “I traded your classified secrets for archery lessons. I handed over the maps for private supply routes in exchange for an ikran ride. Oh, and the locations of your forest squads? All that broken equipment? I gave those up for a sip of the clan’s alcohol, and shit, it was worth it. That stuff was strong-”

Tsu’tey saw the entirety of the recom’s plan moments before all hell broke loose. He knew that they knew they were playing with fire. He was aware that they knew they would not win this encounter, not unaided. He saw the look in their eye, the one a hunter wears when they got on a mission they have no issue with not returning from. And it infuriated Tsu’tey to no end. 

“And then.” They paused, snorting obnoxiously. “The idiots brought me back, and practically handed me all the new stats. All those delicious numbers and coordinates,” they tapped their temple, “all right here, ready to buy me all sorts of things.”

It was then that Miles Quaritch snapped.

With an enraged snarl, the man threw Spider aside and charged. And of course, the wounded recom had anticipated this reaction. Smooth as water sliding over a submerged river stone, their stance shifted from a confident standoff, to a defensive crouch. Suddenly ready to take on Quaritch’s rage. 

Tsu’tey took off at a sprint, Neytiri hot on his heels. 

Spider sprawled in the moss, eyes wide and fearful. He’d barely landed on his forearms, before he was trying to shove himself back to his feet.

<”ZAZA!”> 

 Tsu’tey was skidding to his side within moments, his knees smarting with friction burns but he didn’t care. Frantically, he checked him over, hands, feet, neck. The latter which, thankfully, only had a shallow cut. 

Neytiri had continued on, yanking her knife free of its sheath before she leapt and threw herself at Wainfleet, who threw Kiri aside in order to parry the blow with his own weapon. The teen collapsed to her knees, her breathing fast and bordering on hysterical. As Tsu’tey held his quivering son close, he watched Neytiri herd the soldier away, her knife strikes precise and deadly. Forcing him to back away or get skewered.

Jake was at Kiri’s side in seconds. His voice was low and soothing as he pulled her against him. Kiri went willingly, dissolving into choked sobs as she grabbed desperately onto Jake, who held her back just as fiercely. 

<”Dad!”> Spider gasped, panic evident in his tone. He was squirming hard against Tsu’tey, trying to wiggle away, but Tsu’tey was reluctant to let him. <”DAD!”> His boy yelled at him, snapping Tsu’tey out of it with the sheer desperation in his tone. He looked down at his son who looked on the verge of tears. Spider pointed at the brawl currently happening across the moss. <”DO SOMETHING! HE’LL KILL THEM!”>

And Quaritch certainly was trying his best. 

Any technique he had had been thrown out of the window as emotion took over. 

“I trusted you!” The man roared, aiming blow after blow that the recom only barely avoided. 

“Your mistake!” They threw back, accenting the end of the declaration with a loud cackle. The response was all bravado, just another feeble attempt to keep the demon’s attention on them. To allow the rest of them to escape. 

<”DAD!”> Spider repeated, shaking him. Tsu’tey yanked himself out of his stupor. 

<“Okay.”> He reassured him. <”Okay. Don’t worry.”> He pressed a kiss to the top of his boy’s head, giving him a tight squeeze before rising to his knees. 

There was no doubt left in Tsu’tey’s mind. No inkling of uncertainty. Not now, not after everything he had seen and everything he had witnessed. He only prayed that he would be forgiven for his mistakes. 

Across the bowl, the colonel was still spitting enraged declarations with every wild swing of his knife. “-should have killed you the moment-”

“But you didn’t!” The recom sang, barely dodging the utility knife Quaritch tried to shove in their eye socket in retaliation. To their credit, they were putting up a valiant fight. Snarling and spitting as they kicked and shoved with everything their wounded body had left. 

It spurred Tsu’tey into action. 

He sprinted across the moss, leaping over Wainfleet’s felled body and then again so that he collided with the colonel’s body from a higher vantage point. The man let out a whoosh as the breath was knocked from him. Tsu’tey followed his body down, wrestling the demon down onto his stomach before sitting himself firmly on his back. In a heartbeat, Tsu’tey’s knife was slipping from his sheath and carving a new one into the body of the writhing demon, who grunted from the force. He wasn’t dead yet. 

Tsu’tey wanted him dead. 

He wanted the peace of mind in knowing that he had ended this demon here and now. He needed to know Spider would be safe from him. That his son would be able to move freely in the forests again without fear of being kidnapped. He had to know that this demon would not seek revenge on his mate. That the man would be unable to raise his blade against anyone again.

Twirling his knife into a new grip, Tsu’tey reangled his blade and shoved it in between the demon’s ribs, straight into a lung which popped with a distant thud and a pained wheeze from the demon’s slack lips. His body spasmed from the pain before relaxing into death’s embrace. 

Neytiri’s shadow fell over Tsu’tey as the Olo’eyktan fought to catch his breath. The kill itself had been easy, but the time it had taken to get to it had thoroughly drained him. 

Her tail flicked in contentment as she glared down at the fresh corpse. <”Nicely done.”> She informed him.

Tsu’tey almost smiled. Such praise from Neytiri of all huntresses was as good as a pat on the back. 

He allowed the comment to hang in the air for a moment as he yanked his knife free of the body and rose to his feet. 

<”At least we will rest well knowing the job is done properly this time.”> Tsu’tey teased tiredly. Neytiri clicked her teeth at him, giving his shoulder a playful shove before turning on her heel and rushing back to her children. 

Tsu’tey had a similar idea and immediately returned his attention to Spider. Only to realise his son was no longer where he had left him. 

Instead, he had raced across the moss and promptly thrown himself into his Zaza’s arms, who had collapsed onto their knees out of sheer exhaustion. All bravado had been swept off of their expression now, replaced by relief as they opened their arms to Spider and held him tightly. Their unsteady hands loosely brushed through Spider’s dreads, mindful of his mask straps. “I’m alright kid.” They told him, even though they hardly sounded as if they believed it themselves. “I’m okay.”

Spider didn’t respond. His body was tense all over, and only winding tighter under their careful touch. 

“We’re okay.” The recom repeated. “He’s dead.” 

Spider nodded, giving them another tight squeeze before pulling back. Standing beside the kneeling recom, he almost towered over them. 

His son frowned as he looked down upon his Zaza’s beaten face. Gently, his hand cupped their cheeks, turning their face this way and that to check the damage. “You will need to be looked at by a Tsahik.” He informed them seriously, which startled a smile out of the recom as if it were some inside joke between them. 

“You’re going first.” They told him, looking pointedly at the thin lines still bleeding down Spider’s throat.

“I’m okay, Zaza.” Spider said quietly, although it did little to ease the crease between the recom’s brows. Even that simple expression was frighteningly familiar to Tsu’tey, as it had been the look they wore when Spider had skinned his knee or sustained some miniscule cut as an infant.

“Good to hear, but you better get Mo’at to put something on that when you get home.” “Yeah, that’s the plan.”

They smiled, small and lopsided. Spider finally began to relax.

Tsu’tey stepped further from Quaritch’s body. Absently, he flicked the blood off his blade before sheathing it. 

His eyes never strayed from the sight of his mate and son, finally reuniting and talking after so many years. The sight warmed him. Soothing something that had been left ragged and raw since carving their name into the cliff face of the Well of Souls. 

Running a tired hand down the side of his face, Tsu’tey glanced down at the flaking white paint the movement had rubbed off of his skin. Thoughtfully, he rubbed his fingers together, watching the flakes crumble into small, almost unnoticeable pieces. Perhaps, he thought, there was no longer a reason for him to renew it.

He smiled to himself, reaching up and rubbing away the itching paint with his hand, so that the normally pristine line broke and wavered. Tsu’tey watched the flakes rain down past his eyes as snow would fall in the colder regions. And he felt content. 

When he got the worst of it off, he lifted his head, only to find Neytiri already watching him. Her smile could only have been described as proud and full of unspoken understanding. Somehow, Tsu’tey knew she had come to the same conclusion as him, and would allow him to take the lead moving forwards. Tsu’tey dipped his head in thanks, to which the huntress nodded once, her expression oozing pride. 

It was then Tsu’tey steeled himself and approached his reunited family.

The moment his shadow fell over them, the recom was tense again. Snapping their head up, they promptly ripped themselves away from Spider at the sight of him. 

“Don’t!” They snarled, jabbing a hand in his direction as they bum shuffled away from him. Their shaking hand slipping and sliding over the moss in an attempt to put some distance between them. “I’m leaving! I promise I’m leaving! You won’t ever find me here again!” They swallowed loudly, “I just got ambushed! But I’m going now! You’ll never see me again!”

Spider stared after them, looking torn between offering reassurance and looking up at his Dad pleadingly. With a sigh, Tsu’tey spared his son an encouraging look before slowly following the panicking recom.

His heart broke a little as he looked down at them now, the words having escaped him, again. As he had in Tsaheylu, Tsu’tey made a show of lifting his hands to show they were free of weapons. The recom flinched, only to let out a groan of pain. It appeared that their earlier adrenaline was beginning to fade.

Tsu’tey smiled sadly, stepping closer. The recom hissed at him, their scrambling hands suddenly finding a utility knife concealed in the moss, which they rapidly brought up between them. The blade danced as it was held aloft, aiming at Tsu’tey’s heart. 

“I’m going.” They promised him.

Tsu’tey huffed softly. Slowly, and with great care, he caught their raised wrist. They jumped so hard that they lost their grip on the knife, which Tsu’tey promptly caught in his other hand before it could impale them through the leg.

The recom somehow stiffened more, eyes glued to the weapon in his hand. 

“Tsu’tey.” They plead quietly.

He lowered his knife hand before throwing the blasted weapon away and into the moss.

“That was a stupid, <i>stupid</i> plan.” He told them simply as he released their raised hand and stepped back. 

“Well it worked, didn’t it”? They snapped back defensively, only to flinch at their own tone. “Sorry. It’s been a really long day.”

Tsu’tey nodded. “Then you should return with us to High Camp and rest.”

“What?”

“It is too dangerous for you to remain here.” 

They were staring at him blankly. As if he were some confusing puzzle.

“I mean-”

“It is decided.” Tsu’tey cut in, before turning on his heel and shooting Spider a nod. His son lit up. 

<”You mean it?”> <”Yes.”> Tsu’tey confirmed, lightly ruffling his son’s hair on his way past. <”Get them on someone’s ikran and then meet me back here.”> <”Thank you! Thank you, Dad! You won’t regret this!”> Spider exclaimed, giving him a tight, grateful hug. Tsu’tey felt inclined to agree with him, as he watched his son dart away to help the stunned recom to their feet, already nattering on about this or that.

He smiled. Feeling lighter than he had in years. 

Last Chapter <- Part 4 -> Next Chapter

[myokk]

Eloise🥹💓

[kineticallyanywhere]

Monkey’s Paw pages 144-147 ( START HERE || ao3 || previous || next ) AU after episode 62. The Omega Dads try a more desperate gambit, but   careful what you wish for. Our dads find alternate versions of themselves in a strange dreamscape. If you die in the dream, do you die in real life?

"three psych outs in a row is that good writing" let me COOK

anyway hey guys im still alive. these pages just did not wanna happen. mostly panelings fault. finished not perfect, amiright?

[fluoxetinehcl]

Me, writing : "This is good enough. We can just skip the smut. It's not important anymore."

Me, a pervert : "REMEMBER! REMEMBER WHY YOU WRITE THIS! FOR PORN! PORN!"

Me : "True..."

[direwombat]

listen. i'm always happy whenever someone leaves a comment because they enjoy my writing. whether it's a quick "love it!" or a longer dissection of whatever they've read, it warms my heart that they took the time out of their day, however brief, to let me know that they liked my work. i don't consider myself entitled to receive comments for posting my work, which makes every single one i get a gift!

but comments like these (particularly ones that come from profiles that haven't posted fic and are aggregates of bookmarks*) really do leave a bad taste in my mouth:

so, let me spell some things out for anyone who may be unaware:

I don't write for you.

I write for myself.

I am writing fic for free in the little spare time i have.

You are not entitled to my (or anyone else's) work

i haven't posted fic to ao3 since literally january of this year. i also wish i were posting fic more frequently, trust me. the only thing worse than writing is not writing. but asking "where's the rest????" and "part 2????" only activates my spite response to not post. you'll get updates to fics when you get updates. writing fanfiction is a hobby for me. i do it for fun. but i also take my craft (writing) very seriously. i want to write a good, compelling story and i take great care in the writing process. it's laborious to begin with, and on top of that, i am a meticulous planner. it takes me much longer to write a fic than it does for you to read it -- yes, even for the short ones and smutfics!

it's the famous "pick two: high quality, cheap, and fast", and unfortunately for all of us, if you want my "not bad"-writing and have it also remain free, then you're gonna have to be patient.

*i'm not saying that this is an incorrect way to use ao3. if you're using ao3 as a place to keep track of the fics you like, that's a valid way to use the site, and not what i'm mad about. it's the entitlement.

[ennn]

Grumpy

[zombiechoir]

Me telling the rude af spammer on ao3 that they need to stop demanding updates:

[wyveraed]

Inferno: ah yes completely normal day I’m sure nothing interesting will happen

Me, the author: >:]

[synchodai]

just dropping by to say how much i love your jacegan fic 🥺 i want to start writing my own fic but i've tried and every time i lose interest and finish it. i love how you give us such quick updates with barely any typos and a clean structure. what's your secret? do you use any tools like ai to write so fast? thank you!

Oh wow, first of all, thank you for the compliment! Second of all, do not, and I mean DO NOT, for any purpose use chatgpt, character.ai, or any large langauge models for your writing — just don't. It won't help your writing, it won't help you as a writer, and it won't help anyone alse.

To answer the question, I guess I'm a relatively quick writer because I've been writing for years and years now outside of fanfiction, so I have a process and the habit down pat, honed from creative writing workshops and the more rigid process of academic writing. With the process I have, half the entire project is basically done even before I post the first chapter.

My approach to writing is very similar to how most people draw and make visual art. You start with a rough and vague outline and then add the details in later steps. Outlining is a learned skill. For fanfiction, most free-write their work, but if I actually intend to finish anything more than 10k+ words, I need to have a plan and know where I'm heading. I really do recommend at least learning to outline, even if you are an intuitive writer who will end up mostly ignoring it.

Here's a rundown of my "steps" with examples taken from my current fic and a project that's still in the planning stages that I may or may not write:

#1: Outline the whole project

Plot the fic chapter by chapter, centering each chapter around one major event or info reveal. You can be as vague and messy as you want for this step since you're the only one who'll get to see your outline anyway.

#2: Outline the scenes you want per chapter

You don't need to list everything that'll happen at this stage. These are the key scenes that you daydream about while listening to music or taking a walk. You can picture these scenes on vivid 4k.

#3: Write summaries of each scene

I put each chapter into a seperate document with their key scenes already there. Here's the phase where you just start telling yourself the story. Again, this isn't meant to be read and seen by anyone but you. The goal is just to know how the events are connected and will play out. This is also the part where I do most of my research.

For example, under Chapter 4 - Jace Recovers, I wrote:

Jace wakes up in Driftmark/High Tide. Body aching, barely can move. [Research here how long it takes to heal from broken arm and medieval casts.] Sees himself in the mirror for the first time and doesn't recognize himself. Has as existential crisis but because he's Jace, he channels the dread into wanting to keep fighting.

This is very short since it's a scene with no dialogue, just one character, and just one major plot point. Some of my summaries are 10x longer, especially for things like trials, small council scenes, battles, and other big events.

#4: Actually start writing the prose

Because you've done step #3, you won't be staring at a blank document and actually know how everything will play out. Without having to worry about plot consistency or inaccuracies since you've ironed that out in the previous step, you can focus on just making these things sound evocative or beautiful or punchy or comforting or angsty or whatever mood you want to communicate with your prose. The summary that was 55 words ended up being 750+ words after this step, and I breezed through it in one sitting.

#5: Plug the prose into a text-to-speech program

I don't have a beta-reader so this is basically my beta-reading step. There are plenty of free TTS apps out there and any of them will do. The goal here is to catch typos, see which lines sound clunky, repetitive, or disjointed, and make corrections accordingly. I listen to my own writing while doing chores, walking, or any other mundane task, and I find it the most enjoyble part of this process because it fills me with such a sense of accomplishment having that sort of tangibility in hearing my work.

Just to clarify, this is the process that I've tailored for my own personal needs and preferences. Every writer is different — some need to have a mood board or reference images or find summarizing their chapters removes the joy of "discovering" as they write. All those methods are perfectly valid as long as they get you to actually put words other people can read on a page. But you can't discover your own personalized method unless you actually start writing. It will be slow earnings at first, but eventually you will craft it bit by bit through trial and error.

OTHER MISCELLANEOUS REASONS WHY I WRITE SO QUICKLY

My job is not emotionally or physically draining, so I have plenty of energy for creative pursuits. If you go home exhausted, don't force yourself to churn out words. If this starts feeling like a chore and not fun, that's your signal to rest and take a break.

I write primarily on my mobile device. Because of this, I can write during downtimes and my commutes. There are some writers who have to be in front of a desk, but I recommend at least trying it on your phone just to see if it works for you.

If I don't want to write about it, then I don't. Don't ever feel like you have to write about anything if you don't want to. If there's a big battle that happens but you get bored writing action? Just tell the readers it happened in one or two sentences — no need to devote a whole scene or chapter to it if it doesn't excite you. Same with time passing and travel. You don't have to fill the page with paragraphs explaining what the characters did if you just want to get them from point A to B. If it isn't fun to write about, then your readers most likely won't have fun reading it either.

I don't care if it's not the best that I can do. Often, I do think I could have written certain things better and added more. But eh, it's fanfiction. It's a hobby. The fact that it exists and I created something is already an accomplishment and the desire to endlessly finetune gets in the way of that.

I have a community of fellow fanfic writers I can bounce ideas off of. Honestly, I got lucky with this one and just got invited to random server one day. But you can usually find discord servers with fellow fanfic writers linked in your fandom's subreddit.

I don't have twitter, instagram, tiktok, or other social media time sinks that might distract me from my hobby. This one speaks for itself. Tumblr is really the only place you can find me.

Anyway, I think that's pretty much it. I suggest starting small with a one-shot or short story, and then expanding from there. Happy writing, and remember, the goal really is to just have fun and be proud you made something with your own two hands (so absolutely NO AI).

[maelstromdeparture]

it seems like i should not have to do this but here we go

Do not write fics inspired by, based off, or otherwise connected to my fics without explicit permission to do so. If you have permission, do not gift it to me. If you have permission then put it under the inspired by section.

Do NOT claim that it is in addition to or otherwise a part of my series. If you see fics that are clearly inspired by or based off my fics and they are NOT written by me they are NOT part of my AUs, fics, or series in anyway. Any fics that are written by someone else and considered part of my series will be incredibly rare and will be linked by me to the AU they are part of stating that they are part of the series and can be considered as such.

[paul-ster]

My computer broke down. I shall never write again :(

[ao3scrapesearch]

This tool is optional. No one is required to use it, but it's here if you want to know which of your AO3 fics were scraped. Locked works were not 100% protected from this scrape. Currently, I don't know of any next steps you should be taking, so this is all informational.

Most people should use this link to check if they were included in the March 2025 AO3 scrape. This will show up to 2,000 scraped works for most usernames.

Or you can use this version, which is slower but does a better job if your username is a common word. This version also lets you look up works by work ID number, which is useful if you're looking for an orphaned or anonymous fic.

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(Made some edits to the post on 27-May-2025 to update information!)

[sceletaflores]

LAYING IT ALL ON THE LINE...

꩜ masterlist ꩜ update blog ꩜ inbox ꩜ taglist ꩜ ao3 ꩜

｡꩜°‧➵ PAIR: Joel Miller x fem!reader

｡꩜°‧➵ WC: 4.1k

｡꩜°‧➵ CONTAINS: 18+ SMUT MDNI, post-outbreak, hurt/comfort, joel's pov, general violence, minor character injury, jackson!joel, when he picks an unnecessary fight with you because that's all he knows, mentioned age gap, joel miller as a sad old man, joel miller experiences feelings, oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, clothed sex, unprotected sex, erectile dysfunction? we don't know what that means in this house because that old man can fuck like he's twenty AND his knees are made of steel (but only sometimes), porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

｡꩜°‧➵ @retrosabers SAYS: thinking about you almost dying on patrol and joel is FUMING, unable to convey just how worried and anxious it makes him. the only way he can even remotely conceptualize his feelings is through a very PASSIONATE rawdogging ♡

｡꩜°‧➵ NAT'S NOTE: everyone say thank you sid for this absolutely luxurious prompt...i'm waiting. i had so much fun with this! i love love love a good semi-angsty, emotionally constipated man having to come to terms with his buried slash repressed feelings in the gritty wake of a near-death experience, like that's my shit. hope y'all love it!

dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics!

joel miller realizes that love isn’t just a four letter word…

"Southeast perimeter’s clear. Heading west by the river bed."

“Wow, you’re finally gonna stop gettin’ us lost out here, sunshine?”

“Lost? Please, you cried when I found that shortcut through the cedar thicket.”

Joel listens to you and Tommy bicker over the radio, a forgotten cup of coffee going cold at his side. That's all he can do when you're out there—patrolling in the snow with a few others. He's not proud of how he just sits by like some anxious house wife, listening to the static between check-ins, but he can't make himself focus on anything other than the way your bright voice filters in and out.

He tries not to hover. Tries not to keep the handheld clutched like it's a goddamn lifeline. But he does, eyes glued to the thing like it might crack open and spill you out if he stares hard enough.

Joel's really not even supposed to be listening in like this. Maria's chewed him out more times than he can count each time she catches him hunched over an old radio that he's never bothered turning in, says it'll do him more harm than good worrying over it.

Besides, these channels aren't meant for civilians sitting on their asses at home. He knows that, because that's exactly what he is now—civilian adjacent. Half-retired.

Tommy jokes about it every once in a while, the way Joel's slowed down, the way his joints complain louder than they used to. A while back, he might've laughed too. Now, every little twinge of pain feels like a reminder of what he used to be.

Joel used to be the one they all looked to out on patrol. He could track better, shoot cleaner, navigate faster than most of the younger guys. That's not the case these days. His patrolling has slowed down over the past few years. He only goes out a few times every couple of months, if even that. 

He tells himself it’s by choice.

It’s not, not at all. He’s tired. His knees ache after long rides. His busted shoulder can’t handle the cold without locking up. Jackson’s got a whole rotation now, young joints, faster reflexes, eyes that don’t blur when the wind hits just right. So he doesn’t go out much anymore. Not unless the group is short. Not unless they really need him.

It makes sense. He knows it makes sense.

That doesn’t make it feel right. You out there, miles away in knee-deep snow with a rifle strapped to your back while he’s stuck here. Not out there. Not beside you.

Joel knows you can handle yourself—hell, you’ve proven that a dozen times over. You’re younger. Strong. Fast. Smart as a whip. You can shoot the cap off a beer bottle and you handle a knife better than most people your age. 

Knowing all that still doesn’t quiet the feeling of unease that eats away at him each time you strap on your gear and kiss him goodbye with a, See you later, Miller. Strolling out the door like it’s casual. Like it’s nothing.

There’s a kind of helpless fury in it. A sick twist in his gut every time he watches you ride out. Like he’s some retired goddamn hunting dog. Trusted to guard the porch, but not sharp enough to run with the pack anymore.

Joel adjusts the volume dial on the radio like it’ll make your voice stay longer.

Tommy’s laugh cuts through the speaker. “Didn’t cry. I got snow in my eye.”

“In July? Sure.”

It comes in grainy and light, full of that same teasing bite you always give Tommy—enough to make Joel’s jaw tighten with a quiet, helpless kind of fondness. He almost smiles, but it doesn’t reach past the tight pull in his chest. You’re still picking your way through territory where any tree line might be hiding something.

Joel shifts in his seat, elbows on the table, jaw clenched tight. He tells himself you’re fine. You always are. You have to be.

The channel goes still for a few beats. Then, a crack of static. Some muffled shuffling. And—

“Wait—something’s moving in the trees. Left side, just past the ridge.”

Your voice. Sharper now. Less teasing and pointedly quiet.

“Copy,” Tommy replies, suddenly serious. “Keep eyes on—”

A burst of noise. A flurry of panicked voices overlapping and shouts. The unmistakable sound of gunfire.

Then nothing.

Dead air.

Joel’s heart drops to his boots. “Tommy?” he barks into the receiver. “Come in. What the hell’s happening out there?”

When there’s no answer, Joel shoots to his feet. The chair scrapes across the floor harshly as he crosses the room in two large strides, fumbling for his jacket. “Tommy? Goddammit, someone answer me!”

Nothing.

Joel’s heart thuds violently against his ribcage as he stares at the little black box in his hand like it’s an omen. He feels it rush in all at once—panic, guilt, helpless rage curling cold and mean in his chest. His ears are ringing so loud he doesn’t hear the slam of the door behind him as he tears out of the house and into the cold air. 

Something happened. The group was compromised. You were compromised.

And he’s not there.

He should’ve been there.

Joel doesn’t remember the sprint to the stables. Doesn’t remember shouting at Maria when she tried to stop him at the gate. Doesn’t remember half the ride out. All he knows is that his hands won’t stop shaking around the reins and the bile in his throat tastes like ash—a sick, gnawing pit growing in his gut.

When he finds the group what feels like hours later, just as the sun starts to rise behind the ridgeline—you’re nowhere to be found. His eyes scan the way everyone’s spread out, some with minor injuries and the others patching them up. 

No sign of you.

Tommy plants himself in front of Joel just as he hauls himself off his horse. He doesn’t even feel the way his knees jolt as his feet hit the ground. 

“Where the hell is she?” he rasps, voice so rough it sounds like it’s been dragged through gravel. “Where, Tommy?”

Tommy’s hands are out in front of him like Joel’s a wild animal about to snap. He’s got blood on his hands, but no signs of stab wounds or bullet holes anywhere on him. It’s not his blood. Joel’s stomach turns viciously at the sight, at the thought of whose it might be.

“She’s fine,” Tommy says, eyes wide and placating. “Took a hit, it grazed her side. She wouldn’t fuckin’ stay down.”

Joel knows he won’t feel any relief until he sees you, alive and breathing with his own eyes. “Where.”

Tommy steps aside just before Joel nearly shoves past him, nodding his head toward a rock outcrop a ways away from everyone else.

You’re sitting closest to the makeshift fire, Jesse crouched beside you to clean the gash along your side. You’re bundled in someone else’s coat, hair mussed and blood soaked through your undershirt and spattered across your cheeks.

Visibly shaken. Color drained. Bloody. Alive.

Joel’s throat locks up when your eyes meet his. You give him the smallest, tired smile—like you're trying to reassure him. That look. That stupid, brave little tilt of your mouth like everything's okay even when you're the one bleeding through Tommy's jacket.

It makes something in his chest crack wide open.

“Joel?”

He doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t know what to say.

Doesn’t trust himself for it to be anything good.

Joel takes three shaky steps towards you before his knees give out. 

He drops hard into the snow. He doesn’t catch himself, doesn’t try. Just falls forward like a penitent man bowing at the altar of a God he doesn’t believe in. His breath comes in short, ragged bursts, eyes locked onto the red seeping through your shirt like it's the only color in the whole damn world.

There’s a beat where nobody moves. Jesse freezes, half-done wrapping gauze, and you’re just sitting there, wide-eyed and shaking like a leaf, lips parted like you’re trying to say something—but Joel’s already reaching for you.

He's on you in the next breath. Not rough, not like usual, not with that greedy, hungry touch he normally has after you come back from patrol. His hands are trembling when they find your face, tilting your chin up gently, his fingers brushing away wet blood and dirt.

Tommy glances away. Jesse too, both men busying themselves with helping the others. It feels too private, even out here in the open.

“Goddammit,” he chokes. “God—baby–”

His voice breaks on the last word. Breaks, something sharp and gutted and boyish, nothing like the hardened man who's grown to guard his emotions like they’re classified. Your hands hover uncertainty over his shoulders, the side of his face. You’re worried. He can see it plain as day, written in the wavering line of your mouth.

“Hey—hey, I’m okay,” you say, voice low and urgent. “I’m fine. Look at me, Joel, I’m fine. It just—it just grazed me, okay? I’m fine.”

You’re not fine.

You’re too pale. You’re stone-cold. Your blood is still tacky on your shirt, drying beneath his body's warmth.

Joel presses his forehead to yours and exhales like he’s been kept underwater, and you were the surface he’d been clawing to.

You whisper his name again, quieter this time, and he shushes you. “Don’t—don’t talk, just—let me—” His fingers press to the pulse point at your wrist like he still needs proof. “Let me feel you.”

You don’t say anything else.

You just hold him.

And Joel doesn’t cry. He can’t. Something won’t let him, but he stays there in the snow for a long time, holding you like a man who thought he’d never get the chance to again.

The ride back to Jackson is quiet.

You fell asleep half-way through, head lolling back against Joel’s shoulder as you both sat in the saddle, your body loose with exhaustion and the emergency pain meds Jesse had in his pack. Tommy rides ahead, checking the trail, but Joel barely looks up. He just holds the reins with one hand and holds you tighter with the other.

You’re taken to the infirmary the second everyone files through the gates. Joel sits by your bedside in stormy silence, hands curled into fists and resting on his knees, the only thing keeping him together.

You talk to the nurse on duty. You even joke with her, cracked voice and tired eyes like it’s all part of the routine. Like getting shot is just another part of the job. And Joel sits there while someone else wraps you in new bandages and checks your vitals.

It makes his blood boil.

All he can think about is the way your voice cut out on the radio. The way he didn’t know if you were dead or bleeding out in some field, alone. And now you’re laughing. Now you’re telling the nurse, “I’m fine really, just sore.” And it makes him want to tear the whole fucking clinic apart.

Joel doesn’t say a word until you're cleared to leave. 

Not on the short walk back to your house. Not when you’re walking through the door, cleaned up. Patched. Your shirt’s gone, replaced by his coat and a thermal blanket around your shoulders.

Not when you nudge his arm gently like you’re testing the waters. Not when you say his name soft, like it might keep him calm before you’re heading towards the bedroom.

It doesn’t.

The moment the door shuts behind him, Joel erupts.

“You got a fuckin’ death wish?”

You freeze in your spot halfway across the room, turning to face him.

Joel doesn’t move. Just stands there, fists clenched at his sides. His voice is low, shaking with barely concealed rage. “You gonna tell me why you thought playin’ saviour was worth bleedin’ out in the snow?”

You don’t say anything for a few beats, eyebrows drawn together in a hard frown as you look at him. “What was I supposed to do, Joel? Jesse was pinned, Tommy would’ve taken the hit. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice!” Joel grates, stepping towards you. “You could’ve picked you. You could’ve stayed the fuck down like Tommy told you to.”

“I was trying to keep your brother from getting shot in the head,” you snap, the tension finally striking a flint. “I made a judgment call.”

“You made a stupid call,” he spits, voice loud and blistering. “You don’t get to do that.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you repeat, your body growing stiff and tense.

“You shoulda fuckin’ stayed down.” Joel growls. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it—just rips his flannel off, tosses it hard at the wall.

You don’t flinch. Don’t even look away from him as his shirt falls and crumples into a heap on the floor. “What?”

“You heard me,” he snaps, turning to look at you again. His eyes are dark, fiery. “Jesus, you—do you even fuckin’ think sometimes? You were hit. You knew you were hit, and you kept goin’. You didn’t stop, didn’t stay down like you were told.”

He steps closer, eyes boring into yours, face twisted with something too furious to be rational. “You fuckin’ chose to be a goddamn hero, huh? Run into gunfire like it ain’t a fuckin’ death sentence? That it?”

He can see the second your expression changes, your own anger rearing its ugly head now, bitter and hot. “Don’t do that. Don’t make this about me being reckless when you know I was just trying to keep people alive. I did what I had to do.”

“No!” he snaps, pointing a finger at you, furious and stricken all at once. “What you had to do was come home. That’s it. That’s all.”

You blink at him, breath caught in your throat.

Joel can’t stop, all the emotions he’s been dealt over the past three hours finally boiling over and spilling through his lips before he can think twice about what he’s saying.

“You could’ve died,” he growls, pacing now, hands dragging through his hair roughly like he’s trying to rip the anger out of himself. “Two fuckin’ inches to the left and that bullet would’ve torn straight through your gut. You think you’d’ve made it to town in time for that? Huh?”

“That’s not fair.”

“No,” he snarls, spinning on you, voice cracking. “It’s not fuckin’ fair. Nothin’ about this is. You go out there, and I sit at home waitin’ to see if today’s the day I lose you. That the last thing I heard is your voice cuttin’ out in the middle of a fuckin’ ambush. That’s what I got to live with now. That’s what I saw every time I closed my eyes on that ride back.”

You stand there, lost for words. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I know you didn’t,” Joel says, suddenly quieter, throat thick. He swallows hard, looking down, shaking his head like he’s trying to get a grip. “But I still almost lost you. And I don’t—fuck—I don’t know what the hell I’d do if that ever—”

His voice cuts off, ragged. Then he’s in front of you again, cupping your face with both hands. “You’re not allowed to do that to me again,” he whispers fiercely. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that.”

“Joel…” You lean into him, slow. Cautious.

Joel meets you halfway.

His mouth is on yours in a heartbeat—hot and bruising and pathetically desperate. His big hands frame your face, thumbs dragging down your cheekbones as he licks a wet stripe over the plush seam of your lips.

You gasp into his mouth when he pushes the blanket off your shoulders, when his palms skate down your sides to grip your hips hard. Not too rough, not yet, but he’s holding you because he needs you rooted. Anchored. Here.

Joel kisses you like he’s still furious at you, like he hates how much he needs you, like he’s punishing you for making him feel so afraid. It’s not soft, all teeth and tongue as he devours you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When he pulls back, his mouth is wet with your spit, lips pink and swollen. “Need to taste you,” he mutters. “Need to feel you.”

Joel sinks to his knees before you can respond, breath huffing harshly against your stomach. His fingers tug your zipper down with frantic urgency, hooking his thumbs in your waistband to peel your pants down your legs in one swift motion.

There’s no teasing. No smugness. Just a heavy, sharp hunger carved into his face like stone as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing you to his greedy eyes. His hands slide under your thighs, lifting one over his shoulder as he brings his mouth to you like a man possessed.

The first drag of his tongue is slow. Reverent. Hot and wet as he parts the slick seam of your cunt with deliberate strokes that make your spine arch. He groans like your taste knocks the wind out of him, and then he latches on like he’s got a point to prove—to himself or you, he’s not sure. All he knows is that worshipping you is the only penance that could soothe the panic still clawing at his insides.

“Joel.” Your hands tangle in his hair, chin falling to your chest as you gaze down at him.

He sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue relentless, nose pressed deep against you. You whimper, twisting his hair in your grip, hips twitching—Joel doesn’t let you go anywhere. He’s got you trapped, your body pinned with his mouth buried between your thighs like he plans to die there.

It’s filthy, obscene—the way he devours you. Lips slick, beard growing damper with each swirl of his tongue, eyes half-lidded but still trained on your own.

Your eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide and black as spilled ink. There’s sweat beaded on your brow, lips parted and swollen as you let out small huffs of air.

Your thighs are trembling. You're soaked, arching against him, whimpering his name with tears welling in your eyes. And still—still—he won’t let up. He needs this. Needs to make you fall apart. Needs to prove to himself you’re alive by the way your body sings under his touch.

Joel can’t stop. Not until your thighs shake and you’re moaning that you’re gonna come, gonna come, Joel, please—

And you do. You fall apart on his tongue with a broken sob, legs clenching tight around his ears, hips grinding down into his mouth in weak twitches and shudders. He growls and holds you still, licking you through every last tremor until your body goes limp and threatens to sink to the floor.

Joel doesn’t let you fall—he lowers you down gently, like you’re made of spun glass, even as his hands skirt over the hem of your shirt. When he pulls it up, revealing the bandages wound tight around your side, he pauses. His gaze lingers on the wound. Jaw clenched. Something soft and wrecked flickers in his eyes.

Your hand comes up to cup the side of his face, your thumb running over the scar across his temple so gently it has his heart throbbing in his chest. “I’m okay,” you whisper. “Still here.”

Joel takes your wrist in his hand, lowering it down enough to press it hard over his heart. “You feel that?” he breaths. “That hasn’t stopped hammerin’ since I heard your voice cut out.”

You nod slowly. Your fingers curl into his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Joel squeezes your wrist, turning his head to press a soft kiss to your forearm.

He climbs up over you, chest to chest—the jut of his cock where it tents the denim of his jeans grinds over the sensitive span of your cunt as he settles himself between your legs. He’s thick, heavy even through all the layers. 

Joel’s free hand snakes down his body, making quick work of his belt. He rips his zipper down, freeing his cock from the confines of his soaked boxers and letting it slap up against his stomach.

You moan at the sight of it—hard, straining, the tip a dusty red and wet with pre-come. Your legs widen unconsciously, thighs twitching on either side of Joel’s hips.

Joel takes himself in his hand, fist tight over the base of his cock as he runs himself through your puffy cunt, slicking the skin of his cock with your wetness. “Gonna fuck you,” he breathes, lining himself up between your legs. “Gonna feel you around me, baby, need it so damn bad.”

Joel slides in with one long, smooth stroke, your slick making it easy, and the groan he lets out sounds like pain. Like relief. Like he might lose his mind from the heat of you. Your breath hitches at the stretch, head lolling back against the hardwood as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Mine,” he grits through his teeth, forehead pressed to yours, his hips grinding deeper as you cling to him. “You’re mine, baby. Always—always mine.”

You nod, panting, eyes glassy. “All yours,” you whisper. “Only yours, Joel.”

And then he moves.

Hard.

Desperate.

Unrelenting.

He fucks you like you’re the only thing tethering him to earth, like if he stops, he’ll unravel entirely. One arm hooks under your knee, pushing you open, deeper than before. His hips slap against yours, raw and hopelessly, but it’s not about getting off.

It’s about feeling you.

Every squeeze, every tremble, every gasp that leaves your mouth when he hits that perfect spot. 

Joel’s never felt like this before.

So angry.

So scared.

So in love.

He fucks you like he’s trying to imprint himself inside your body. His thrusts stitch you back to him, sealing you inside his chest so you can never leave. A mess of skin-on-skin and heat and slick as the two of you meet again and again and again.

“Could’ve lost you,” he growls against your throat. “Fuck, honey, I could’ve—Jesus—”

You wrap your arms around him. “You didn’t,” you whisper. “I’m here, Joel—I’m yours—”

He groans, hips stuttering, thrusts turning frantic. He can tell he’s close, that he’s been close since he sank to his knees in front of you.

“Say it again,” he pants, slamming into you with a low, wrecked noise. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp. “Always yours—fuck, Joel—”

You wrap your arms tighter around him, pulling him closer. Your nails dig into his skin through the thin layer of his undershirt, legs locking around his waist to keep him pressed against you like you’re scared he’ll let go.

Joel doesn’t let go. He’d never let go. Not even when you moan his name like a prayer, not even when your nails rake down his back, not even when you gasp out a warning, your voice thin and needy. “Joel, I—gonna—”

“I know, baby. I got you.” His hand snakes down between you, finding your clit and rubbing quick circles over it, desperate to feel you come. “Wanna feel you. Need to—fuck—need to feel you, sweetheart. Please.”

You shatter in his arms with a broken sob, clenching hard around him as your body jerks, overwhelmed and too raw to hide it. Joel feels you pulse around his cock, the tight warmth of your cunt milking him.

It’s too much, and he’s coming with a groan that sounds like it’s been clawed from his chest. He buries himself to the hilt, hips jerking with every pulse, breath catching in your ear. “Fuck, fuck—” he pants, voice hoarse, “—love you, I love you, I thought I lost you, baby, I can’t…”

You’re both trembling when it ends.

Joel holds you there for a long time, forehead resting against yours, still buried deep inside you. He still won’t let you go. Not yet.

Eventually, when he’s calmed, he pulls back just enough to look at you.

You expect that same look from earlier—rage, fear, guilt—but it’s not there. Just love. Just deep, aching relief.

“I can’t lose you,” he says quietly. “I wouldn’t survive it.”

You reach up, trace the curve of his brow, the edge of his jaw. “You won’t have to,” you whisper.

Joel kisses you again. Softer this time. Sweeter. A delicate press of lips against lips. His fingers stroke your cheek, pulling back enough for his eyes to trace along your face. He follows the line of your brows, the shape of your nose, the soft curve of your lips.

He can’t feel anything other than love.

Gentle. Solid. Steady.

It’s only love.

mini nat's note: everyone please send good vibes for my hell sent ch*m final on monday...i literally need all the luck i can get. thank you so much for reading! mwah.

[veltana]

Unleashed - Avengers!Bucky/Fem!Reader

✦ Pairing: Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~4,2k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Sex pollen adjacent kinda, smut, a bit fluffy, one shot, possessive!Bucky, co-workers/friends to lovers, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praise, creampie, pet names (doll).

✦ Summary: During a mission, Bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions and all he wants is you.

✦ Note: Previously posted on AO3 since I have basically no time or energy to write new stuff. It was titled You’re what I need before but I always hated that title so I decided to re-name it. Bucky is kind of an asshole in this, but it's just because he wants you! As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️

Masterlist | AO3

The worst part about watching from afar as a mission goes to shit is that you feel useless. Even as you dispatch medics for the team all you can do is tell them, "Help is on the way."

Captain America shouts orders that you hear through the comms. The wait feels endless until the crew of the quinjet declares that they have spotted the team and there's not much else for you to do but look at your monitors and wait for an update. When you get the call back that the team is secure you breathe a sigh of relief, but then the next message is to prepare the medical staff to receive multiple injuries and chemical exposure. You ask the crew to clarify, but they are too busy, so when you notify the medical center, they prepare a quarantine room.

Sometimes you wish you had a superpower and could be there with them instead of staring at your monitors and doing endless calculations on whatever the team needs. But then when they return they always compliment your work and tell you they don’t know how they managed without you. You try to remind yourself of those moments at times like this.

Once the quinjet is docked and everyone has been accounted for you push away from your desk and remove your headset, taking deep breaths and trying to calm your heart. A moment later a message pops up on your screen, probably because they couldn’t reach you through your comms. [Bucky wants you to come down here]

Your heart does a little flip in your chest, making you scowl. He is your friend and probably injured, you have no idea why he would be asking for you, but it’s not because he feels the same way you do. You grab your tablet and head to the MedBay.

When you get down you take stock of the situation. Nat and Steve have some scratches, Sam's arm is broken and Wanda has a few cracked ribs. Tony is bruised, his suit had taken most of the damage. You look around for Bucky but don’t see him anywhere and quickly deduce that he must be the person currently in quarantine.

When you get to the wing, you’re almost too scared to go in, afraid to see what could have happened to him. Inside, you find a team of medical personnel discussing Bucky's condition with him through a glass wall. His hair looks damp and he's wearing standard-issue quarantine clothing, soft black pants, and a black sweatshirt. When he sees you standing patiently at the side he says. "You can come back later. I need to talk to her more than I need to talk to you. Go away." His voice comes from speakers in the ceiling.

You're shocked by his behavior but smile apologetically as the white coats pass you on their way out. When you get up to the glass you hiss. "Bucky, what is wrong with you, don't be rude.” "You make it sound like I'm never rude otherwise," he laughs. "You're not rude to healthcare professionals, you know better." You glare at him as you wake your tablet. “Now what did you need me for?”

"Do you like me?" he asks. Your mouth falls open and your heart starts to beat faster. You’re happy your vitals aren’t monitored as you quickly collect yourself and try to deflect his question. "Of course I like you Bucky, you're my friend." But now it feels weird to look at him and you find a spot on the wall far behind him to focus on.

"What if I want more than friends?" is his next question and despite your best efforts, hope warms your chest. This is not happening. Of course you toyed with the idea of you and Bucky, he is always sweet to you, and if he has the chance he brings you gifts from the missions. But you’ve told yourself repeatedly that he needs someone stronger, who can keep up with him in the field and you’re not that person.

"Can we have this conversation when you are not high on some HYDRA drug?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from betraying you. They are monitoring everything in the room. And there is a sheet of unbreakable glass in between you both. If you're going to confess your feelings, it won't be like this.

"I'm not high," he huffs. "My mind has never been clearer." "I still think we should have this conversation later." "Doll, look at me." The command in his voice is so strong you don’t think, you snap your eyes to his and they are so blue and soft.

"I will feel the same tomorrow, and the day after, whenever this drug wears off but now is the only time I can't hold my tongue," he explains. You place your hand on the glass and he does the same on the other side. "It will be fine Bucky, I promise," you say just as the door opens and Steve walks in, making you pull your hand back to your side. He's showered, in a fresh pair of clothes and he swings his arm over your shoulder.

"Stop hogging her time Bucky, I know for a fact that she also needs to debrief," he smiles but Bucky looks as if he's seeing red. Through gritted teeth he presses out, "Get your fucking arm off her, punk. She's mine."

You and Steve burst into laughter because it has to be a joke, but then Bucky punches the barrier with his vibranium arm. The glass doesn't crack but both you and Steve stop short and step away in shock. Steve removes his arm and says, "I'll meet you upstairs." Before quickly heading out.

You turn to Bucky and point at him, anger rising in your chest. "What is wrong with you? Steve is your friend!" "That is what it’s like in here every day,” he points to his head. You're taken aback by his statement and his wide feral eyes. Clearly, whatever he was exposed to had messed with his head and he's not himself. “Bucky I need to go,” you tell him, and before he can protest you continue. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile feebly at him and are out the door before he can say anything else.

After debriefing and having dinner you go to bed early. Your head is spinning with the day and most of all, Bucky.

It's way past midnight when you wake to the soft closing of your door. Since you always sleep with a night light the soft warm glow reflects off his left arm and leaves no doubt about who has entered your room. You blink at him but before you can ask a question he rasps out, pleading. "I need you. So bad. Please doll, help me." He moves closer to your bed.

You quickly remove your covers and get up, glad the giant t-shirt covers you to your thighs, ready to spring into action. "Anything Bucky, what do you need?" You stop an arm's length from him, but all he does is reach his hand out to cup your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheek. There is a wild look in his eyes but you keep calm. "I can't get you what you need if you don't tell me," you whisper, meeting his eyes and watching as his brow furrows.

"I need you. Right now. If I don't get to touch and taste every inch of your body I'm going to lose my mind," he confesses in a low voice. His words shock you and you hitch a breath. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. You have this great friendship. If things were different you would not have minded taking it to another level, but with the day in mind and the fact that he somehow got out of his containment room you say, "Bucky, you’re not yourself, you need to get back to-”

"Doll,” he interrupts with a hard voice. “For once, I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. The only thing the drug did, I think, was remove my inhibitions. For once I feel free. My mind isn't controlled by HYDRA or by fear that you'll reject me. All I know is that I crave you and I can't be quiet about it anymore.”

"Bucky… I…" your whole body is flushed with warmth from his words and you're not sure how to respond. "I dreamt about you and couldn't stop myself from going over here. I don't want to hurt you, doll, but I'm not sure this drug will let me leave. All I wanna do is move closer to you.” You swallow hard as he continues, thumb still stroking your cheek. “Ask FRIDAY to get Steve, or the Hulk if you want me to leave."

Instead, you step into him, making up your mind in an instant and resting your hands on his chest. "Stay, I'll be glad to help you with anything you need," you whisper honestly and by the way his eyes widen there was still some doubt in his mind that you would reject him.

Instead of saying anything his vibranium hand grasps your waist and pulls you closer. There is no escaping the smell and size of him and his hands on you got your pussy throbbing for him already.

"I hope you understand what you've agreed to," he whispers, leaning closer. "Once I have you I won't stop, you'll never be rid of me. I'll claim you against every surface of this fucking compound if I need to." That makes you whimper and press harder against him. "Fuck you'd like that huh? Are you a kinky little thing? Like getting fucked where people can see you and hear you moan, do you want people to see my hard dick spread you open?" "Fuck Bucky!" You exclaim and lean your forehead against his chest. Maybe that idea excites you or maybe it is just that the word ‘claim’ sounds so primal.

"You're going to tell me all your little secrets later, doll. But now, I'm going to take what's mine." And with that, he crushes his lips to yours. He backs you towards the bed, kissing you the whole time, letting his hands explore you. When you land on your back, he stands over you with eyes like a predator about to devour its prey.

You shuffle up until your head rests on the pillows, spreading your legs for him. Without taking off any clothes he crawls after you, settling on his knees between your legs and placing his hands on the headboard, crowding you with his large frame. "Mine," he whispers and it makes a shudder pass through you. He ruts his clothed cock against your core, slicking your underwear even more and making you whine, gripping the sheets under you.

"Yes," he almost hisses as the length of his dick presses on your clit and forces a mewl out of you. It's been a long time since you've gotten laid. "Bucky," you plead. "No doll, I'm going to enjoy every fucking second of claiming you, from the outside in. Did you think this would be hard and fast and that I would be gone before you knew what happened?"

He lets go of the headboard to put his elbows beside your head instead, his weight on you, pressing you down into the mattress. "When I leave you will long for me, spend every waking second wishing I was still inside you. I want your cunt to be permanently drenched so I can fuck you whenever I please." He kisses you forcefully and any coherent thought that was left in your head flees. "And when you're too sore to take more of my dick in your pussy I'm going to do the same thing to your mouth and ass."

He rids you off your t-shirt and instead of having to move from between your legs to pull off your underwear, he rips them apart. "Ah!" you exclaim when the force of his movements jolts you but he takes no notice, he just stares at you, letting his hands roam up and down your sides, up to your tits, cupping them and caressing your nipples with his thumbs.

Whimpers are coming from you with every pass of this touch. Then he moves down and lays on his stomach, not saying a word as he sweeps his tongue over your pussy before he starts devouring you with a throaty moan.

It doesn’t take long for the first orgasm to take you, his movements are precise and his words and actions have made you hornier than you’ve ever experienced. Or maybe it's because he is the hottest person you’ve ever laid eyes on and he only wants you.

When you’re finished and sensitive he dips his tongue into your hole to taste you and groans loudly, lapping up the wetness from your orgasm. "Better than I've dreamed of," he says when he pulls away. Now you’re the one that must be high because you can't help but giggle. "You seriously dream of me?" "All the time, doll. Every night when I go to bed I wish you were with me and then you plague my sleep with your soft curves and radiant smile."

You're about to tell him how his laugh makes you warm and fuzzy on the inside but at that moment he sucks your clit into his mouth, cutting out every thought in your brain. He's gentle but not hesitant, it's as if he's feeling you out and when you make a particularly loud sound he continues the same movement, making your whole body go hot.

The second orgasm is intense enough to send aftershocks through for a long while afterward. Bucky lays his head on your thigh as you tremble, caressing your skin and letting the fingers of his right hand skim over your opening.

Despite what he's already given you, you still crave more. His fingertips never come close to where you need them and when you whine at the back of your throat Bucky smiles up at you. "Don't worry, I'm not even close to done with you, but I don't want you to pass out on me.” One of his fingers glides inside, making you take a sharp breath just because it feels so good. Once again he is careful, moving slowly, listening to your breath and your body.

"Please Bucky, I need more.” "No need to beg, I'll give you everything you want… in time," he breathes and kisses the skin on the inside of your thigh. Slowly he moves his finger in and out. You're sure it's a form of torture. The sweetest kind there is. Your breathing is labored and when he finally adds a second, you start to quiver.

He nips at your skin and then kisses it before speaking. "You look like a goddess, doll, eyes filled with lust, your skin is gleaming. I'm going to worship you until you're tired of me.” "Never gonna happen," you whimper. Then his thumb lands on your clit, making you cry out. Everything is so sensitive and overstimulated.

"I don't- Bucky, I don't think I can again," you tell him even though his touches are causing your insides to melt. "Yes, you will," his voice is soft but the command is clear. So instead of trying to speak again, you sink further into the madness that is him playing with you. The third one takes its sweet time but you never feel rushed or stressed that it's taking too long. Bucky isn’t in a hurry.

Then it’s suddenly there, crashing through you. "Fuck Bucky, fuck you're gonna make me come." "So good for me, let me feel you come on my fingers," he urges. "I'm going to lick them clean afterward so make sure you get them nice and wet for me. I want as much as you'll give me." The climax reaches its peak and you come with a cry of his name, body convulsing and your hand shooting down to tangle in his hair.

"Just like that doll," he smiles up at you and holds your gaze when he pulls out his fingers and sucks them clean, moaning while he does. It's a filthy sound, but it turns you on as if he didn't just make you come for the third time. Then he dives in between your legs again, licking at your skin and your soaked hole. Letting go of his hair all you can do is just lie there, writhing, as he somehow coaxes a fourth orgasm out of you.

“Fuck me,” you plead when he pulls back. “I need you inside me Bucky.” This time he takes pity on you and moves away to take off his clothes. When he’s naked he kneels between your legs again and you spread them as wide as you can. "Want me, doll?" he asks with a smirk. He swipes his cock through your mess and then uses his hand to coat himself with you. "Yes," is all you can say. Both you and Bucky stare as he pushes his dick into you, filling you up completely. Of course, he takes it torturously slow this time too.

"This feels better than any dream I've ever had," he whispers almost in awe. You grip his biceps and arch into him, pushing him deeper, faster. That makes him tsk but smiles at the same time as he pushes the rest of the way, finally seating himself. Without giving you a chance to relax he starts fucking you, his cock pushes perfectly against your insides, pulling sounds from you that you haven't made in years.

He sits back on his heels lifting your ass effortlessly until your weight is resting on your shoulders and neck. It's like he is in a trance, pulling you onto his cock over and over again. Your body is his, your mind has fled, and all you see and feel is just him all around you. His eyes keep changing between his dick filling your cunt, your bouncing tits, and your half-lit eyes as if he is not sure where to look. "Mine," he rasps and thrusts hard to empathize the word. "All mine. Say it."

It takes some time for your brain to connect to your mouth and form the words but his gaze never leaves you. "Yours," you whimper. "I'm yours, Bucky." There is a familiar heat low in your belly that's steadily spreading through your limbs. It makes you wiggle and move because it's overwhelming. He is overwhelming in the best sense. Whining you reach down to rub yourself but he slaps your hand away. "I thought I told you, it's mine. I own this cunt. If you wanna touch yourself you have to ask permission." It's as close to a growl as is humanly possible and you don't understand how he can be so cognizant right now, because your brain is like putty. "Can I please rub my clit Bucky, I wanna come on your cock so bad," you cry.

"Good girl," he praises, and when he calls you that, your mouth falls open with a keening sound, gripping the sheets even harder, pulling at them because you want to come so bad. "Do it, show me how you get off when you're alone in bed without me." Everything is slippery and sensitive when you start with your fingers and you immediately know it's going to go fast. With his previous words in mind, you ask. "Can I come?" He meets your eyes with a wicked smile. "Fast learner. Yeah, you can come… when I tell you."

You rip your hand away, afraid you might fall over the edge at any second. The sound out of your throat is almost a sob. "Don't be like that, doll, I thought you said you couldn't do it more times?" "I can-I can! As many times as you want just please let me come." "Fuck, I like it when you beg with my cock in you." But he doesn't say anything else, just continues fucking you. He's not even winded while you're straining your entire body. Your hand wants to move back, anything to relieve the pressure inside you but Bucky was very clear and you don’t want to disobey him.

Then he pulls out and drops you onto the bed, but you don't get to relax because he flips you onto your stomach and pushes one of your knees up to the side before he presses in. His dick hits your G-spot dead on and you scream into the pillow under you. Bucky chuckles right by your ear. "Guess I found it." He's merciless, his hips hit your ass hard and if it weren't for his weight pressing you down you would soon hit the headboard.

"Bucky!" you wail because it's too much. You're losing the last pieces of your mind to the sheer force of the pleasure and you're scared you're never going to be able to come back to yourself. Then his hand presses in between you and the mattress. "Rub yourself on my fingers, make yourself cum. Fuck my cock and come all over me doll." You brace yourself as best you can and move your hips as he keeps almost completely still, just shallow thrusts in stark comparison to what he was doing to you just moments ago.

His fingers slide along your clit, his cock brushing your G-spot over and over again. You're breathless, sweat breaking out along your skin, but the climax you're chasing will be well worth it. You just know it.

"I can't fill you up until I’ve felt you come around me," he grunts, his voice tight with holding back. You whimper, the feeling of fire flushing your whole body, and building up to an eruption like no other. "Yes, yes, yes," he chants low in your ear. "That's it, come for me, make me proud. Fuck it feels so good." And he starts moving again "I'm going to fill you fucking full of my cum. That's it!"

The heat in you breaks and you come with a shout of his name, shaking under him. It gets even more intense when Bucky finishes right behind you, groaning your name. He collapses on top of you but his hips are still moving, slowly, as if he doesn’t want it to ever end. Neither would you but your body is wrecked.

When he finally rolls off, you're so close to falling asleep, but he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. "Pee." He points and you want to tell him that you know the drill, this isn't your first time, but all that comes out is a grumble before he closes the door behind him and you sit down on the toilet.

When you're done, you stumble out and have a moment of panic, thinking he left. But then the door opens and Bucky returns with two bottles of water, handing you one before leading you to the bed and sitting you down on the edge. Gratefully you drink and lean against his shoulder before asking. "How do you feel?" "Better than I have in a long time," he answers, kissing your forehead. You chuckle. "Yeah I have a magical pussy, it can cure anything," you joke and it makes him laugh. "You should get back to quarantine," you comment. "Before anyone notices." He shakes his head. "No I'm staying here, I'm never leaving you again." He takes the bottle from your hand and places it on the bedside table together with his own. Then he crawls beneath the sheets and you go after him, letting him envelop you in a tight embrace before you fall asleep.

Alarms blare and you wake with a start. "FRIDAY what's going on?" you ask out into the room. “Sergeant Barnes has escaped his confinement.” The voice echoes through the room. You sigh and glare at Bucky grumbling beside you, like the loud signal is just a regular alarm clock. "FRIDAY please inform the team that Bucky is here and everything is fine."

A second later the sound dies and with a sigh you get up to pull on yesterday's discarded t-shirt and find a pair of pants. Right when you're done there is a knock on the door and Steve asks, "Everything okay in there?" You open the door enough to show yourself. "We're fine, he broke out during the night and came here." "Oh," Steve says and there is a hint of blush on his cheeks.

Then you feel a presence behind you and Bucky’s arm goes around your waist. "Mine," he says and you can't see him but he's probably glaring daggers at Steve who backs away. "We'll be okay, I'll alert FRIDAY if I need help," you tell Steve. When you close the door Bucky turns you before pushing you up against it and kissing you hard. "Mine," he mumbles against your lips. "Fucking caveman," you tell him. He grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder. "I'll show you caveman," he says and carries you to the bed

[slut4thebroken]

Bark Like You Want It

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Dick Grayson x kinda dom!reader

Summary | “Please… I promise, I’ll be— I’ll be a good boy…” -Josh Hutcherson in that one film

Warnings | Smut, dry humping, very subby!Dick, multiple orgasms, overstim, praise, begging, sex pollen, creampies, my man loves tits fr.

Words | 2.6 k

Notes | Three fics in one day? I promise I’m not on crack or anything, guys… 😭🙏

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 28: sex pollen

“Please— Please,”

“What is happening right now?” You muttered to yourself, watching him drop to his knees, reaching out for you. 

“Please… I promise, I’ll be— I’ll be a good boy.”

You and Dick have been unofficial vigilante partners in Blüdhaven for a few months now. You’ve gotten used to the constant flirting and the over confident remarks, the smirking and teasing… but this behavior was definitely new. 

Batman had sent him on a retrieval mission of some sort because it was closer to Blüdhaven than Gotham, so Dick brought you along. Truthfully, the mission went by without a hitch. Even when you both got attacked by some goons that were “guarding” the place, you took them down easily. That was where the problem started though. 

During the attack, one of the vials in his pocket shattered, quickly seeping through his suit onto his skin. Neither of you notice at first though. 

Once you were surrounded by a few unconscious men, you were ready to go, but Dick made you wait a moment for him to catch his breath. Then he was fanning his face and complaining about how hot it was— which was mostly odd to you because you were a little cold this late at night and he didn’t even break a sweat during the “fight.” 

Then he started getting whiny though… 

“Please,”

You sighed and reached down, gripping his chin to turn his head side to side, examining his flushed cheeks, making him moan softly at the contact. You took off a glove and put the back of your hand to his forehead, feeling how warm he was.  

“Fuck— please, sweetheart.” He begged, leaning forward with a whine to chase your touch when you pulled your hand away. 

“Phone.” You said plainly, holding your hand out. He whined again, but obeyed nonetheless, scrambling to retrieve the device for you. “I need to call Batman.” He was clearly displeased by that and he squirmed at your feet. When you raised your brows impatiently, he pulled up the number and started the call, handing the device over to you. 

As soon as it stopped ringing, you didn’t let the person speak before you said, “Batman?” 

“…Who is this?” He replied.

“I’ve been working with Nightwing. I went with him to retrieve that substance you wanted.” You explained, then quickly continued. “What is it, exactly? And is it deadly?” 

He sighed over the phone and when Dick whined again, you gently nudged him with your boot to shut him up, but it just made him mewl. 

“Not deadly. It’s an upgraded version of Ivy’s sex pollen.”

“Sex pollen?” You echoed, groaning in your head to yourself at what that meant. “Is there an antidote?” You sighed. Dick was moving toward you, seemingly trying to mount your boot or something, so you took a step back and held your finger up, wordlessly telling him to wait. 

“Not for this version… That's what I was going to use the sample for.” 

You cursed under your breath and groaned out loud this time. “So, can he just wait it out?” 

“Not likely. From what I’ve heard, Ivy updated it to cause excruciating pain without stimulation, and the time needed for the drug to wear off also increases significantly if ignored.”  

“Of course it does.” You muttered to yourself. “Okay— I’ll figure something out. Can you come get the sample and start working on an antidote though?” 

“Yes… However, this kind of thing takes time. It’ll mostly likely be faster if you just… reach out to one of his old friends for assistance.” You tried to ignore the way your stomach twisted at the idea. 

“I said I’ll figure it out, just come get the damn sample and make the antidote!” You snapped, immediately regretting it when all you heard for a few seconds was uncomfortable silence. 

“Robin is closer than I am. I’ll send him.” He finally said, then the call ended. 

You let out an extremely heavy sigh, then put his phone away and grabbed his arm to haul him up. “You gotta help me out...” You grunted, struggling to lift him until he staggered to his feet. 

“Please,”

“Shut up. I have to get you somewhere safe.” You huffed impatiently, starting to become a little affected by the way he was whimpering and writhing…

“Can you drive?” You asked, getting your answer when he nuzzled the top of your head while trying to press his body against yours. “Right.” You muttered. So you got on your bike, having him sit behind you— You didn’t even need to tell him to hold on in his delirious state because he was already wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your hair, inhaling deeply as his hips started rutting. You could tell by his strained movements that he was trying not to start dry humping your ass, but he just couldn’t help it. 

Reminding yourself it was just the drug, you quickly drove off, trying not to focus on it or on how your clit was starting to ache too. 

When you finally made it outside his apartment, you turned the bike off, then his phone was ringing. You struggled to pry him away from your body enough to grab his phone, but eventually you managed. 

“This is Robin— I’m five minutes out. You’re at his place, right?”

You practically breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Yeah, we just got here, I’m going to try and get him up.” 

That was easier said than done. Dick refused to let go of you, his hips still grinding a little. 

Until you finally snapped. 

“You have three seconds to get off the damn bike or I’ll tie you up and leave you like this until Batman finishes making the antidote.” You said firmly, making him whine again. “Three… Two…” He finally dislodged himself from you and got off the bike, needing to hold onto you again because he was so out of it. But you managed to get him upstairs after a while of senseless begging and pleading from him. 

The front door wasn’t even shut for ten seconds before someone knocked. 

“It’s open.” You called out, dropping Dick onto the couch unceremoniously as the door opened. You got on your knees on the floor to search the rest of his pockets carefully for the remaining vials as the younger boy walked in. When he got a good look at Dick, he laughed quietly. 

“He looks terrible.” 

You rolled your eyes, trying not to blush at the way he moaned as your hands searched all of the pockets in his suit until you found the samples. 

“All the more reason to get this antidote made quickly.” You finally responded, handing him the vials. 

“…Did Batman not tell you?” 

“Tell me what?” You sighed, sitting back on your heels and finally taking a breather. When Dick reached out for you, you slapped his hands away. 

“It’s going to take a while… Waiting for an antidote is pointless, he’ll just suffer longer.” 

“Okay, so what the fuck am I supposed to do?” You snapped, the frustration and jealousy finally getting to you. 

“Look, “sex pollen” is a misleading name, okay? It mostly just increases arousal and lowers inhibitions… So anything he’s saying he wants right now.. he’s already been wanting.” Robin said carefully, looking between you and Dick. “And it doesn’t really seem like he’s calling out for Barbara or Kori…” 

“It’s just because I’m in front of him right now.” You muttered dismissively, barely believing it yourself, but you still couldn’t believe that Dick actually wanted you. 

“Yeah, that’s not how it works.” He snickered, making you glare at him. 

“Okay— You’ve made your point, Boy Wonder. Go meddle somewhere else.” You snapped again, this time out of embarrassment. He held up his hands in mock surrender as he backed toward the door. 

“If you don’t believe me, I’m sure Kori would love to help.” He said coyly, now just blatantly teasing you about it. Before you could yell at him, he was already leaving. 

You sighed quietly and turned back to Dick, frowning at how miserable he looked right now. 

“Okay… I’m gonna help you, alright?” You said softly, trying to pull him up again so you could move to the bed. Instead, he grabbed onto you and pulled you down, making you land against him with a startled sound. 

“Please… It hurts— make it go away.” He whimpered, his hips rutting up against you. 

“I’m gonna make it go away, don’t worry.”

He moaned your name, sounding like he was in so much pain, and you could feel his bulge even through his padded suit, so you knew he must have been incredibly painful by now. 

“You gotta let go of me so I can get your suit off, Dick.” You said gently, trying to pull away. He didn’t hear you though. All he registered was you trying to move away, so he flipped both of you over, pinning you to the couch on your back, laying on top of you… Then he just started humping you as he held you down. 

You blushed furiously, but you couldn’t do anything other than lay there and take it because he was far stronger than you. After a few seconds, he nuzzled your neck and his sounds got louder as his hips stuttered— He was coming already… 

Fuck. 

“Thank you— Thank you! More… Need more.” He mewled, sounding so incredibly desperate and pathetic. By now, your cunt was throbbing, needing relief. 

“Dick.” You tried, but it went ignored by him. When you struggled under him, he put more of his weight on you. So you grabbed his hair and yanked his head back as hard as you could, making him cry out, but start rutting faster. “Dick!” You yelled, slapping him across the face when he still wasn’t paying attention. That made him finally freeze, staring at you with wide eyes, panting like he just ran a mile. 

“Do you want to keep humping me like a dog or do you want to fuck me?” 

His jaw fell open slightly and he stared at you for just another second before he snapped out of it and started frantically removing his suit. You pulled down the zipper of your own suit and peeled it off your body down to your knees. But he wasn’t satisfied with that, so he pulled off your boots, then undressed you the rest of the way. He ended up removing his whole suit also because he was sweating and flushed, and felt too constricted. When his messy cock was freed, he breathed a sigh of relief, but didn’t waste any time lining up between your legs. 

“I-I’ll try to be gentle,” As you got a good look at the absolute monster between his legs, you appreciated the sentiment, but you were too fucking needy to give a shit about him being gentle right now. 

“Just fuck me, Grayson.” You huffed impatiently, making his eyes darken. Then he slammed in. You cried out, clinging to his bare shoulders to ground yourself. 

“Fuck…” He choked out, his second orgasm hitting him before he could even get all the way inside you. “So fucking t-tight.” He gritted through pathetic whimpers and moans. Then he started rutting. He winced, his brows knitting together in an extremely attractive display of pain from overstimulation, but he didn’t stop.

“Good boy…” You cooed, just trying it out to see how he’d respond. He mewled, almost sounding like your praise was making his pain worse somehow. “Fuck— you feel incredible, baby. So big…” You moaned. He finally dropped his head into your chest and you smirked at how much he was suffering from pleasure. 

Only after his face was buried in your cleavage, did he finally remember that you had tits he could play with so he quickly pulled your bra down and latched onto your nipple with his mouth. His hips started rutting faster, humping your body desperately, his thick cock sawing in and out of your leaking cunt. The squelch of his come sloshing around inside you was completely obscene and made you blush.  

“Gonna- come again. Please…” He whimpered, barely pulling away from your nipple enough to speak. 

“Go ahead, baby. Fill me up again… You can do it.” You cooed softly, encouragingly. He sobbed out a moan in response, then moved to your other nipple while his hand cupped your breast. You cursed under your breath and arched up into him, giving him slightly better access. He whined and started rutting more eagerly when your hands threaded through his hair, tugging gently. 

Finally, he was coming for the third time. His seed was gushing out around his cock, rolling down your ass and staining the couch, splattering over your thighs and his balls as he continued thrusting. He was moaning around your nipple, suckling on it for comfort as he clung to you. 

Barely seconds after his orgasm faded, he was pulling out and flipping you over, then lifting you up onto your knees and plunging back in. You cried out, frantically moving a hand down to start rubbing your clit. Dick laid over your back, wrapping his arms around you as he nuzzled the crook of your neck. 

“Feels so good… Thank you,” he gasped out, humping you like a literal dog in heat. He just kept getting more desperate and more pathetic… which kept turning you on more and more. “‘m your good boy.” He murmured, sounding almost delirious with pleasure. He was rambling incoherently, but you could kind of make out more begging and pleading, and even asking you to say it. So, of course, you complied. 

“You’re my good boy…” The sound he released almost made you feel bad for him. “Did such a good job waiting patiently for me to help you… I’m so proud of you, baby.” 

“Fuck- please…” He whimpered brokenly. 

“Is my good boy gonna help make me come?” You could feel him nodding, then he was rambling senselessly again, but you could understand that he was agreeing. “Keep going then, angel.” He didn’t have to be told twice… 

He was bucking into you desperately, moving his hands to grope your tits and roll your nipples between his fingers. You started rubbing your clit faster, feeling yourself slowly start to approach the edge. 

“C’mon, baby… Make me come.” You said softly, encouraging him to thrust harder and faster. “There you go… Good boy, keep going.” You moaned. 

Dick was only getting more eager and frantic, panting heavily against the side of your neck while he lost himself in the overwhelming tightness of your velvety warmth. 

Finally, your orgasm crashed over you. When your cunt clamped down on his cock, fluttering wildly, he choked out a moan and followed suit. Not wanting to ruin your orgasm, he did his best to keep thrusting, but was having a much harder time than just a moment ago. He hugged you tighter, gently biting down on your shoulder, and you moved your free hand up to hold onto his hair. 

The pleasure eventually faded and overstimulation quickly replaced it, making you reach behind yourself to grab his hip, holding him still so you could take a moment to rest. He whimpered, trying to be obedient and not squirm, but he couldn’t help himself. 

“Please… Just need a little more.” He pouted, rocking his hips to try and get the stimulation back. 

“I need a break, angel.” You said gently, but firmly. 

“But it still hurts…” His whimper made you roll your eyes and finally push his hips back to dislodge his cock from your pussy, a gush of his seed following suit. He whined loudly in displeasure, but didn’t try to stop you when you pushed him away so you could turn over onto your back again. 

“Fuck my tits and mouth. After you come again, you can keep fucking my pussy.” You said plainly, catching him off guard. But he nodded frantically and eagerly straddled your torso to get started. 

[courfee]

you know the fact that i made this post 3 months ago mildly fucks me up considering i only just posted the respective chapter. three months?????

hey so. ritardando is now actually longer than operation wanker. which feels vaguely weird even though that was the plan all along. but now it is real and there are more words and the story is still very much not over and i gotta write more