#fanfiction snippets

[space-writes]

writing patterns tag

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea, thank you! i’ve finished writing all my kinktober fics now, so i figure it’d be mildly interesting to look at all the opening lines for those! (not all of them are posted yet, so i've only linked the ones that are)

Rules: list the first line of some of your wips and see if there’s a pattern!

[ID - a purple and black decorative divider]

Eyes On Me

The sheets were rucked into an uncomfortable tangle beneath him, his squirming making them worse by the second.

A Simple Call

If he said he hadn’t spent the last hour waiting for his phone to ring, it would’ve been a lie.

my greedy eyes upon you

Pharaun told him not to break past his wards again, but Vizaeth knows he didn’t really mean it.

your sharpest teeth

The worms are gone. The Urges are gone. The need to bite is not.

to the point

It’s easier than Zeth’rinn expects to get into the Nydalla compound.

grind

“You should go home.”

this useful mouth of mine

Rhylfein’s not even hard any more, but it doesn’t matter.

enwebbed

Red, and an infinity of webs.

fortunate trespasser

With wine in hand—his third glass—and a suitably non-threatening smile fixed on his lips, Zeth’rinn appears merely another guest in the great hall of House Nydalla.

The Care and Keeping of Husbands

Once, his bathing room had been a place of pure function.

[ID - a purple and black decorative divider]

i guess in terms of patterns, i like something that's a bit of an attention grabber; an interesting statement that makes you want to learn what the context is (or at least I hope it does that!)

no pressure tagging @revenantlore @viscerawrites and @princessbonecrimes

[bylightofdawn]

WIP Sunday

So this is where I decided fuck it, I'm writing the self-indulgent shit I want to so and I'm now interconnecting a bunch of fics. Alpha and Fordo discover Cody is hunting the bounty hunters who they found about in last week's sneak peak. Honestly, at this point I might end up posting most of this over WIP Sundays cause ya girl doesn't know how to keep things succinct.

Standard disclaimer: it's super rough and not edited and liable to be changed before the final fic is posted.

It quickly became apparent these were not poachers. They had none of the big animal traps or accouterments Alpha was used to seeing, and he made a silent hand signal to Fordo, indicating they were going to withdraw when a figure in equally nondescript armor stepped out from behind one of the bioluminescent fungi, which grew thick and prolific in this part of the forest.

The sight of the blaster in the man’s hand immediately put both ARCs on edge, but the unmasked but unmistakably familiar face had both of them pausing. Even with the beard, Alpha would have recognized the distinctive scar that curved along the edge of the clone’s left temple and eye.

“Cody!?” Alpha exclaimed as his jaw agape with shock behind the faceplate of the helmet he wore. It had belonged to a Zabrak bounty-hunter and he picked it since it was so utterly unrecognizable as say a clone helmet.

The clone’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Kark me, is that you, kid?” Fordo asked disbelievingly as well. He and Alpha exchanged a silent look before both reached up to remove their helmets.

It was Cody’s turn to gap at the two of them with disbelief on his face. “Alpha? Fordo? What in sithing hells are you two doing here?”

“Could ask the same of you. vaar'ika.”

“I think we should probably hold this conversation elsewhere.” Fordo pointed out.

Cody looked visibly torn; it was clear he wanted to figure out how the hell two ARCs ended up in the middle of backwater Felucia, but something was clearly riding the man like a demon.

“I need to find someone before these sleemo hunters find him first.”

“The bounty hunters? Who is their target?” Alpha asked a trifle sharply.

Something wary flashed through Cody’s eyes when he looked at his old trainer. He was clearly considering his words before he committed to it but finally a look of resolve settled onto the bearded clone’s face.

“I’m hunting a Jedi.” He finally said neutrally. It might not have sounded too out of character for a clone in the post-Republic hellscape that was the current political climate. But Cody was clearly not indoctrinated because the man would never have approved of the facial hair he was currently rocking if he’d still been in the GAR or the Imperial Army.

“You’re clearly not chipped anymore so why are you hunting Jedi?”

A quiet exhalation of relief escaped Cody and his shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly. “I’m trying to save Quinlan Vos from himself. His former Padawan, General Secura was killed on Felucia. We got word that Bly might have been stationed here.”

“Kark me. Is he planning on hunting Bly down for some revenge?” Something bleak and dark gleamed in Alpha’s eyes.

“I don’t know, vod but that’s why I dropped everything and hurried across the galaxy in hopes of stopping Quin from doing something regrettably stupid,” Cody admitted with a grim, troubled look on his face. “It can’t be good either way.”

“I’m shocked you don’t keep him on a leash if he’s that unpredictable,” Alpha grumbled more to himself and Cody scoffed loudly at the suggestion.

“He and Obi-Wan were best friends, and Obi-Wan was considered the more tame of the two to give you a frame of reference for Quinlan Vos.”

“So somehow, you’ve found a second Jedi to give you gray hairs. I’m starting to think you’re a bit of a masochist, vod.” Alpha stated blandly while ignoring the fact he had more than his fair share of gray hairs courtesy of Shaak Ti and the Jedi younglings he’d all but unofficially adopted.

Judging by the way Fordo coughed, he hadn’t missed the irony of his statement.

“He was Obi-Wan’s best friend. I couldn’t save him, but I might be able to save Quin from himself. Besides, I owe him as well.”

Alpha studied the younger clone’s face with dark, unreadable eyes for a long moment before reaching out to cuff on the shoulder roughly. “We’ll help you then. Fordo, you in?”

[grandline-fics]

S/O using Luffy or Ace or Sabo like a post. Just leaning against them at random times or shoulder bumping them. Affectionate cat headbumps.

Ahh this is so cute and so them! Keeping these and quick snippet/headcanons. This is all typed on my phone so excuse any spelling mistakes ❤️

Ace

🔥The first time it happens it’s not long into your relationship becoming a romantic one. He’s standing talking to Marco when you suddenly flop against him, expecting him to keep standing tall and support you slumped form.

🔥 He wasn’t expecting it and tumbled sideways, knocking into Marco who was the only reason the two of you didn’t fall face first onto the deck.

🔥You were too tired to notice and remained pressed up and leaning against Ace, lightly nuzzling your head against his shoulder while he tried to recover from the unexpected shock and stay nonchalant about the whole thing. He’s an affectionate person naturally but the fact you’re both a couple makes the casual embrace seem more intimate than just a simple hug.

🔥 After that first occurrence it becomes your and Ace’s ‘thing’, randomly throughout the day when you both need a little moment to recharge you will seek each other out, regardless of what the other is doing and slump against the other and affectionately bump your head against them.

Sabo

🎩 It happens randomly. You were out on a mission, not the high adrenaline, fighting battles or the undercover and infiltration jobs. You were both stationed on a random island and told to just watch the target and observe newer recruits to the Revolutionary Army. Babysitting on top of observation= boring.

🎩 So you both did the only thing you could do, whatever popped into your head to starve off the boredom. At first you lightly tapped your foot against Sabo’s while looking ahead and having the face of composed innocence. When he looked away from you, you did it again. This time Sabo responded by doing the same.

🎩 The game continued and progressed from your feet to tapping the back of your hand against his, then lightly nudging his side with your elbow until you ended up bumping his shoulder with yours. Every time Sabo answered with the same gesture and continued to be something you both did both off base and on.

🎩 The only time that it’s not allowed now is when you’re in a meeting and Dragon is present. Because the last time the two of you engaged in this game, a Revolutionary Army member called Sabo to ask him a question, catching his attention.

🎩 Sabo turned without thinking just as you tried to bump his shoulder with your own and with him no longer there to meet the soft impact you fell off your seat and clumsily over Sabo’s lap for everyone to see

Luffy

🍖 Luffy loves when you do this with him. He loves physical, affectionate touches even when the two of you are just Captain and crew mate. He’s the one to unintentionally start it.

🍖 You’d been out on a new island to explore with the crew split into groups. On your travels through some ruins, you found an old map. Excited about finding treasure and secrets Luffy leaned against you, stretching to look over your shoulder to look even though his map reading skills weren’t the best.

🍖 To get your Captains head out of the way you leaned against him and of course his rubber body stretched to the extreme so you were the one slouching over him. Immediately Luffy found this to be the more entertaining part of the day and on your walk to find Nami the two of you continued to lean against the other as you walked.

🍖 Since then and long before anything even turned romantic, you’d always instinctively lean and press your side against Luffy, so much so that when he isn’t lounging on Sunny’s head he’s standing and ready for you to step up beside him and press as close as you can beside him. The only difference now is that he stays standing upright and leans his head to rest his cheek against you so you can both support each other and enjoy each others warmth

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya , @48daisies , @rosemary-lungs @sagyunaro , @artemis162534 , @thecraftywriter , @rorozorolover

[inkpotsprite]

A snippet from my draft for one of the upcoming chapters of Damian Drake.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47083669/chapters/118621507

[cactikoi]

@th0rnback Aauhhhhh I felt so inspired by the little excerpt you wrote about my drawing I decided to finish it!! Thank you for inspiring me!

[mythboundcal]

When the Ice Answers Yuri on Ice Fanfic by MythboundCal

The music begins. But Yuri doesn’t hear it.

He hears breath. His own—ragged, sharp, then steady. Like wind through glass.

He steps onto the ice like it’s a love letter. As if saying it without words might make it true. That he’s strong. That he’s worthy. That he wants this.

The first glide is everything. It’s not movement. It’s memory.

And just like that— The letter becomes a vow.

He thinks of late nights and early mornings. Of Victor’s hand on his back. Of the sound his blades make when he finally lets go.

The rink becomes a galaxy. The spotlight, his moonlight. And overhead, the flashing of cameras Spirals into stars.

He gives himself to the moment. Every stumble, every sweat-stained failure, Every heartbreak etched into his spine— He offers it all to the ice.

And the ice? The ice answers.

By the final spin, he’s not skating anymore. He’s flying. Not to escape. But to arrive.

When he stops, there’s silence.

And then— Applause.

But none of that matters. Because now he knows:

He was never performing. He was becoming.

[starmocha]

duuude mc making him delirious. next day at the hospital he's stillbworked up. mc sends him a text, it's her day off. he's loving, asks her how she's doing. she sends a 'fine 🥰' and he notices she's typying for a while, he's already holding his breath when she sends 'I can still feel you everywhere' with a pretty picture of her lower body, his shirt pulled up, her hand on top of her pink cotton panties. 'especially here' is the fatal blow that makes zayne think of an emergency and head home.

....oops........ 😔👉👈

Afternoon Lessons

Zayne asks Greyson to take over. No reasoning, no explanation, nothing. Greyson finds it odd that Zayne seems to be in a rush to leave, but seeing as the young surgeon has always been a workaholic dedicated to his job, Greyson dismisses this peculiarity, assuming there must be something urgent to make Zayne leave the hospital on short notice.

There is an urgent matter.

Zayne's minx of a wife has decided to play with fire this afternoon, so it's time she learns her lesson about teasing her husband like that when he is at work.

The moment Zayne arrives home, he comes into the living room, seeing his darling wife lounging on the couch in just her little pink cotton panties and his shirt, half-unbuttoned, and her breasts on display as she poses for some risqué selfies.

His phone buzzes.

She freezes.

Zayne opens the text message he has just received and smirks.

"My love, what was your intention for sending me these lovely photos of yourself?"

Slowly, she turns around on the couch to face him as he walks to her. She feels butterflies in her belly when she notices that hint of arousal in his gaze. Right when he sits down on the couch, she yelps in surprise, not expecting him to grab her suddenly and lay her over his lap, his hand has already pulled her panties down enough to expose her ass. Instantly, his large, calloused hand made contact, the slap has her crying out in both surprise and pleasure.

"Has my good girl decided to be naughty today?" he leans over to whisper in her ear, unknowingly making her stomach coil at how deliciously sensual his voice sounds in this moment. His lips find her neck as he continues in a lazy murmur, "That won't do...she could get me in trouble at work."

"Za-Zayne!" she cries out his name when he slaps her ass again, the sting hurting so good, she could feel a dampness between her legs.

Zayne smirks again, his lips on her shoulder. "One spank for every photo you have sent today."

She gasps, nervously trembling at his stern words.

She had sent him thirteen photos total.

[ishipgenfics]

Outsider POV on Somewhere Else Jonathan Sims must be just. so much.

Like imagine. You're part of a support group, and a new guy decides to join. You ask him his name and he says, "Jonathan," and then after a long pause, "Blackwood. Jonathan Blackwood. But call me Jon."

He doesn't like tape recorders. You only know this because the person who hosts the support group is into retro things, and tries to keep a couple around. She turned one on once when someone asked about it, and you noticed Jon clutching his nails into his hands so tight he's nearly breaking the skin. You lean over and whisper, "Do you want me to ask her to stop?" He says, "It's fine," and you nod, but you still try and change the subject whenever people bring up tape recorders from that point on.

He full-body flinches one day when someone says Hello, Jon. Nearly slams into a wall and everything. He tries to play it off, but after that people say Hi Jon, or Nice to see you, or things like that. Anything but Hello.

He says he used to work at a 'non-profit for studying the supernatural'. Someone asks where it was and he says London. You tell your wife about it, and two days later she emails you an article. Magnus Institute Burns Down In 1999. It was in Manchester. You tell her not to bring it up again.

The guy is snarky and blunt and downright rude at times, but when a woman comes in and tells them about being trapped in a empty warehouse for a week, he comforts her in a way none of the rest of them know how. "I believe you," he says, repeats it like a mantra, like a prayer. "I believe you." He says 'I'm sorry' less like he's sorry this happened to her, and more like he's taking the blame onto himself.

He talks about Martin, sometimes. His reason, he calls him. Normally you'd point out that while it's of course good to love your partner, you should have other reasons to live, but you stay quiet. This guy needs all the happiness he can get.

You leave a little late that day, and when you do you hear him on the phone talking to someone. "She'd been touched by the Lonely, Martin!" he says. "Which is bad, of course, but--" he seems to choke up, "Martin, I didn't feel any compulsion for a Statement. A-at all. I think it's really gone."

You just walk by.

You don't know what's going on with Jon, but it really isn't any of your business. You're an anxious queer lesbian and he's a traumatized ace guy, and you aren't going to make his life any harder than you have to.

Just. Jonathan Sims in a support group.

[thechaoticcherub]

Super touch deprived dbf Joel in forced proximity to reader? She has to sit on his lap in the car or share a tent while camping etc!? Love your writing so much!! X

Hi! Thanks so much!!!!

I got stuck on this one so much but I think it turned out besides it being kinda ramble-y. Please enjoy!

LMAO i totally missed the DBF part of this. I hope you like anyway!

Cumulonimbus

Pairing: Touch starved!Joel x Reader

Summary: You and Joel get stuck out in the woods while on patrol because of a storm.

Warnings: 18+ please, age gap, P in V sex, handjobs, camping, touch starved Joel, Joel apologizes a lot, UNEDITED, Daddy kink(only near the end), size kink, cum play, cum eating, creampie

Word Count: 3.5K

Notes: I'm terrible at editing, I just wanted to get this out there lmao. enjoy!

🎀👼🏻Home | Ask | Masterlist👼🏻🎀

You were already supposed to be back in Jackson, it was supposed to be a one day patrol shift for your first time out but a thunderstorm had gotten you and Joel all turned around and night had fallen. There was no point in trying to keep going in the dark and downpour so you set up to camp overnight. To your relief, Joel had a tent packed in one of his saddle bags and you tied up the horses while he worked on setting it up. 

The day had been mostly silent, which was typical for Joel, but you had tried your best to fill some of the silence with your own brand of sweet questioning. About the area surrounding Jackson, asking for tips on riding horses, wondering if Joel liked going out on patrol, to which he answered, ‘usually’ with a significant look at you. You caught his drift but you also caught the smirk on his face as he looked away. So as the afternoon went on you felt comfortable asking about the thick, dark clouds forming overhead and if they meant a storm or if it was just normal clouds. 

“I mean…I think they’d need to be like cumulonimbus clouds if it was goin’ to storm and these look too uhhh sparse to be um, storm clouds.” he said, sounding completely clueless. You looked up at the piles of dark clouds in the sky and raised your eyebrow. “Shit, I ain’t an expert.” he snapped, kicking his horse to get her moving again. Twenty minutes later it was pouring rain, you were soaked and already shivering. 

“Not cumulonimbus, eh?” You called over to Joel, he glared at you. 

Now he was letting out a stream of swears as he worked on getting the tent set up and you came back from the canopy of trees where you had tied the horses to give them a little cover. 

“Grab that end of the tarp there, help me get it over the top,” He said to you over the steady sound of the rain. You picked up the end he indicated and you both shook some droplets off of it before covering the top of the tent which was small, barely big enough to stand in but at least it would provide some respite from the rain. Joel went to the horses and came back with his pack that had been tucked in the saddle back, huddled over it to try and protect it from the rain. He unzipped the tent and chucked it in there. 

“Come on, let’s try and get dry,” he said. You watched as he ducked underneath the tarp that jutted out a bit from the actual tent, providing some shelter and untied his boots, toeing them off before stepping all the way into the tent. You followed suit. Joel had to duck his head slightly inside the tent but you could stand up straight. It was a small space inside. Once you both were in there, there was barely a foot of space between the two of you at any given time. 

You shivered, your teeth chattering as you stood by the entrance, dripping wet. Joel was already stripping off his jacket and then his flannel, laying them both in the corner of the tent, taking up more room and making things feel even smaller. Your eyes caught on him and you couldn’t force them away as he started to pull the black t-shirt he had on under the flannel up and off of his body. 

You had been attracted to Joel for a while, ever since you had first come to Jackson and met the gruff, older man but now you were alone on patrol with him, in a too small tent and he was stripping out of his clothes. 

You were frozen in place, unsure if you could stop staring at him, or move your arms away from being crossed over your body, keeping any body heat that was left as close as he could. Joel glanced over his shoulder, sitting your chattering teeth and the way your lips may have been starting to go blue. 

“Take that wet stuff off,” He instructed, maybe he sensed your hesitation because he turned away from you. “Nothin’ I aint seen before,” He said as he undid he belt buckle. You swallowed and then stripped yourself of your jacket and shirt, making sure to lay them out so they were in a pile that would never dry at all. You heard the shift of denim and knew Joel was taking his jeans off, you followed suit so you were finally just in your underwear and old tank top that was thankfully not soaked all the way through. You were still shivering but at least there weren’t cold, soaked clothes rubbing against your skin anymore. 

When you turned back around, Joel was knelt over his pack, pulling stuff out. First two compression sleeping bags and with a jolt you realized he packed one for you and you hadn’t even considered packing something like that just in case. 

Then a water bottle, his gun, a knife, and a bag that had beef jerky and crackers in it. You were shivering so badly you could barely think of anything else. Joel rolled out the two sleeping bags, with your piles of wet clothes, both of you standing there and the two sleeping bags, there was no room in the tent anymore. Joel looked back at you and he almost dropped the water bottle that was still in his hand. 

You watched his eyes flick down your body, and despite how frigid you were, a spark of heat ignited in your belly. “You can get in your sleepin’ bag, kiddo,” he said. The sound of the rain on the plastic of the tent was loud and you felt overwhelmed with cold, tiredness and something more so the words spilled out of you before you could stop them,

“Can we put our sleeping bags together and sleep close? I’m going to freeze to death otherwise,” You said. You watched Joel’s Adam’s apple bob at your suggestion and you caught his eyes glancing to your chest. A weird mix of arousal and shame stoked the tiny spark in your navel when you realized your nipples were hard, poking out of the thin tank top you were wearing. 

Joel cleared his throat, blinking and quickly looking away from you, “Oh…uhh yeah might be a good idea,” He went about opening up one of the sleeping bags, laying it out on the ground and then opening the other one to go on top as a blanket. You were still for a moment and he looked at you again, “Go on,” He nodded to the blankets and you scrambled over, sank down on one of the sleeping bags and pulling the other up and over. 

Joel went about laying out his gun, his knife, the food and water within arms reach of the sleeping bags. It looked to you like he was avoiding joining you even though it was so cold out there and there was no way he was comfortable. 

“Joel,” You breathed, looking over at him. He glanced around towards you and again you were struck with how good he looked in just his boxers. He was broad through his chest and shoulders, he had muscular arms and a soft belly. You were shocked by how attracted you were to an older guy. Your eyes swept lower, taking in the dark, course hairs peppered with grey and white that led from his belly button and disappeared into his boxers. “Come get warm,” You finished and you watched him swallow. Joel edged closer to the sleeping bags and finally knelt down peeling down the top layer of sleeping bag. Chill crept in, causing your skin to erupt in goosebumps, your nipples tightened even more. Joel crawled in and you immediately felt his body heat sweep over to you under the blanket. 

He settled down as far as he could from you while still being entirely under the blanket. You could still feel his heat and his presence so close. Your heart rate ticked up and you found yourself longing to reach out to him. 

Joel was so aware of your body so close to his it almost hurt. It had been so long since he had touched anyone and now you were both under one blanket, attempting to keep warm and he could smell your skin so close. You scooted closer and looked up at him, there was something in your eyes burning, and it was mirrored back in his. He knew that he shouldn’t do what he wanted to do, he knew that you were too young for him and that he was just a sad, touch starved old man who would do anything just to feel you. But you were moving closer to him, you were looking up at him with eyes that seemed to say, ‘please, touch me, Joel.’ but maybe that was just his hopes. 

Your breath hitched as Joel moved his hand up, towards the side of your face. He paused his movements as he heard your breath. Joel’s hand hovered just above your cheek, not touching you, the heat from his skin radiating from his fingers down onto your cheek. You were longing for it, the slightest touch but he seemed so hesitant. You wanted to reassure him, to tell him that he could touch you however he wanted but the words were lost in your throat. 

The heat under the blanket was so comforting, the sound of the rain outside was lulling you both into a feeling of security, Joel’s fingers finally made contact with your cheek, skin against skin. Course fingertips caressing soft cheek. Joel sucked in a breath at the feeling. He had forgotten how warm and soft women were, so different from him, so inviting. And you. You were particularly warm, particularly soft, particularly sweet, like a cinnamon roll. Or what Joel remembered of cinnamon rolls. He wanted to taste you. His hand against your cheek wasn’t enough. His thumb grazing along the skin of your cheekbone wasn’t fulfilling enough. 

He wanted both hands on you, lips on you, he wanted his taste to mingle with your taste. He wanted to be drunk on skin to skin. Joel let out the breath he had been holding, the scent of him washing over you. He cupped your face and then reached up with his other hand and cradled your face, unable to keep his hands off of you now that he’s touched you. You leaned in towards him, looking up into his eyes and then you heard him whisper,

“Fuck,” Under his breath, he said it like it was an admission of guilt, like it was release of pressure. Like a sudden wave across still water he swept over you and his lips attached to yours. Your heart rocketed into your throat, your hands flew to his sides and you tugged him into you. Joel kissed you deeper, his mouth opening, addicted to your taste, addicted to the feel of you already. 

“I’m sorry,” he said between kisses, “I’m so sorry,” his lips brushing yours as he spoke. You shook your head, trying to make sure he knew there was nothing to apologize for. He let out a moan, as if he hated himself but couldn’t contain it anymore. You ran your hands up his sides, feeling his skin under yours. 

Joel broke away from your lips, pressing his forehead into yours, “I…I shouldn’t do this,” He spoke so softly, you could barely hear him, but his kiss had ignited something in you, something that wasn’t going to be extinguished by his stupid guilt. 

“Why not?” you asked, grabbing his hand and pulling it up your body towards your chest. His muscles flexed, trying to stop his hand. Joel looked pained, he shook his head, 

“Because you’re…” he couldn’t finish, you had dragged his hand over your breast and he let out a shaky breath. “You’re just a baby, you don’t know-“ he tried to finish but your lips crashed into his and you kissed again. Joel’s hand flexed over your breast and you pressed your chest up towards him. 

“Shut up, Joel.” you said. He ignored that, still pressing his forehead against yours as his hand touched your breast. You craned your neck and pressed your lips into his, trying to convince him by kissing him. He kissed you back and you felt his thumb start to stroke over your nipple. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “I need it, darlin’ He mumbled and grabbed the hem of your tank top. It was like he was giving in, his body was forcing him to give in. You were so beautiful, so soft and you were practically begging for it. You helped him pulled your tank top off up over your head, throwing it out of the sleeping bag and Joel’s eyes fell to your breasts.

“God, Darlin’, you’re so fuckin’-“ He cut himself off by cupping your tits in both hands, thumbs still stroking over your hardened nipples, “i’m sorry,” He said again. Joel shook his head, and you reached up and stroked his hair back, looking up at him while he gazed down at your bare breasts. “Beautiful,” He breathed out, his thumb and forefinger pinching. That spark in your belly that had been ignited by him stripping burned brighter and lower, heating your sex. Your brow furrowed in pleasure and you sighed and nodded. 

“Don’t stop, Joel.” You whispered and he groaned. 

“Not goin’ to, baby,” he breathed, kissing your cheek and then your chin, jaw and neck, spreading warmth all throughout your skin. You rolled on top of him and Joel let out a groan, “Oh god, alrigh’ baby, you want it?” He asked as you pressed your hips into his, feeling his crotch pressed into yours. 

“Yes,” You breathed. It was happening so suddenly but you desperately wanted him and it was clear how badly he needed it. You could feel his cock hardening in his boxers, pressing into you. You rocked your hips forward again and he groaned. You reached down towards the waistband of his boxers and pulled on it, your fingers were trembling so it snapped back down against his tummy. Joel groaned again, his brows pinching together, you giggled at his reaction but then tucked your hand into his boxers and finally got your hand around his cock. 

It was stiff and big, your fingers wrapped around the base and you stroked it, following its length down  towards his tip. 

“Oh god,” he moaned. “Baby, you do that so good,” he breathed into your cheek, placing a kiss there. You started to stroke him more earnestly, squeezing around the head, your finger stroking over the slit, his precum sticking to the pad of your finger. “Jesus Christ, darlin’, you’re too fuckin’ young to know how to do that this well,” He moaned. You giggled again and tugged his boxers down, releasing his cock from the restraints of the fabric. You stroked his cock up and down, relishing the feeling of his thick manhood in your hands. Joel moaned, you watched his eyes roll back and you couldn’t help but giggle more, your fingers tightened more, stroking faster. Joel quickly put his hand over yours,

“St-stop,” he laughed, “I need to feel more of ya and if ya keep touchin’ like that i’m goin’ to come,” He said. Your grin was devilish as it took over your face, part of you wanted to watch him come all over himself but at the same time your pussy was begging for it. 

“Joel, I want your cock,” You said, your voice dripping with fake innocence, you watched a smile spread over his face. 

“Gotta warm ya up first, darlin’” he said his hands reaching to your undies now and tracing along the waistband of your undies this time. You didn’t want to wait, you were already wet, needy and wanting his big cock inside of you. “Can’t jump right in, you’ve probably never-“

“Don’t be dumb, Joel.” You said to him, smirking, his fingers found their way into your undies and stroked once up your slit, feeling how wet you were. His face flashed slight confusion and then he raised his eyebrows at you. 

“You’ve done this before, kiddo?” he asked. You rolled your eyes and he reached up and grabbed the hair on the back of your head, dragging you down to be level with him, his lips hovering near yours. “Be honest,” He breathed. 

“Yes, Joel, I’ve done this before and I need your cock, now.” You whined and rubbed your hips forward, feeling his cock pressed into your underwear clad pussy. Joel reached up and tugged your undies to the side, and you moved up higher on your knees and he lined his cock up against your entrance, the head barely starting to penetrate you. You gasped. He was big. Bigger than you had, had and suddenly you were slightly worried about taking it. You looked down at his face, his brow furrowed, his lip was sucked into his mouth. You let your hips drop some, pushing his cock inside of you, the head seeming to split your lips open and then opening your cunt. 

“Good God,” Joel moaned, feeling your tight heat enveloping him. You let out a whine as you took more and more of him inside of you. He was much bigger than anything you had tried before and you suddenly felt  in over your head but the stretch was so good. You stuttered to  a stop with him halfway inside you, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, guiding himself into you. Your breathing was hard and you rocked your hips forward, trying to grind yourself against him and open yourself up for him. 

“Joel!” You moaned, the stretch, the burn, the fullness was so good. It heated you through and through, you took him deeper and Joel grabbed at your hips. 

“Good girl, that feel good?” he asked. You whined and babbled nonsense, unsure if it felt good or hurt too much. You weren’t used to being on top and being in charge of how much you were taking was overwhelming. “You’re so fuckin’ tight, ’s’been so long since I…fuck! I’m sorry, baby, I need this.” Joel wrapped his arm around your waist and flipped you over so you were on your back, your legs around his waist and his cock plunged farther into you. You gasped in pain and pleasure. 

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry.” Joel moaned, pumping his hips forward, watching the place where your bodies connected as he fucked into you. You could have screamed but you knew that you were out in the woods and you needed to be semi quiet. Joel leaned down over you, stroking your hair back, finally looking into your eyes, “Wishin’ you let me warm you up?” he asked teasingly. You gritted your teeth and shook your head, 

“No,” you gasped, “No, I love it,” You whined and it was true. He pumped his hips faster and nodded as he cupped your cheeks, 

“I know babygirl, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry to need this so fuckin’ bad,” he breathed into you. You tried to shake your head, you tried to do anything to tell him how much you wanted it but you were stupid from how good his cock felt filling you, stretching you and pounding into you. So you let him apologize while he fucked you. You wanted more, more, more but his thrusts were becoming faster, less steady, more needy. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m going to fuckin’ come, I know…I know it’s wrong,” he whispered to you. “I’m so sorry, just…a little…god, please.” Joel pushed your knee up and back, opening you further for him. You were whining, 

“Oh god! God! Please! More!” You said. Joel’s body pressed into you, his cock slamming into  you once more,

“I’m so sorry, darlin’, I need to come in ya,” He said, “I’m sorry! Take Daddy’s come like a good girl,” he breathed and you felt his cock spasm as he came deep inside of you. Joel kept himself inside of you all through his orgasm and then he collapsed against you, pressing as much of his body into you as he could. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, peppering your face with apologetic kisses.

“Joel, stop…stop apologizing,” You mumbled. “I wanted it,” You whispered. Joel pulled his cock out of you and pushed your legs back again to watch his own spend slip out of you. 

“Fuck,” He breathed. “I know you wanted it, but-“ He reached down and stroked his fingers up and down your abused pussy. “I-it’s so wrong how badly I needed it, darlin’,” he whispered. You wriggled and moaned as his fingers stroked over your clit. 

“N-No…I need it too, Daddy.” You said, using the name he had called himself before. Joel smiled almost sadly as his fingers gathered his come on his fingers and brought it to your mouth. You obediently opened your mouth, accepting his fingers. His eyes lit up as you sucked it down. 

“I know, darlin’, you’re naughty, jus’ like your Daddy,” he said. 

[catsushinyakajima]

Keith doesn’t place his helmet on the ground as much as he slams it. It bounces and rolls away out of sight, but his mind is elsewhere. He doesn’t even bother to wait for the ramp to descend; he jumps out of Red’s mouth the second she lands. Tremors wrack his joints but he doesn’t care. There’s something more important to focus on. Someone more important.

“Lance!”

Keith skids to a halt in front of Blue and bangs his fists on her hatch. “Let me in! Lance, let me—”

There’s muffled coughing from inside the lion. It’s minute, but it’s there. It makes Keith’s heart skip. He’s alive. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive.

“Lance?” He croaks.

He can’t tell what picture will be painted once he breaches the cockpit. Whether it’ll be covered in shades of red or blue. Whether Lance will greet him with a weak wave and a tired hug, or he’ll be on the floor, limbs twisted in odd angles. The hit he took during the battle looked heavy, but there wasn’t much Keith could see past the blinding explosion. There was no telling how the impact rattled Lance. In that moment, when orange and white seared the inside of his eyelids and his heart plummeted to his stomach, Keith had been so sure Blue had been burst into pieces.

But now he stands outside the intact lion with its pilot still inside, still alive, but who knows for how lo—

“Lance, baby,” Keith croaks with his head against the metal door. It’s still battle-warm. “Won’t you let me in?”

There’s a slight whirring noise before the door slides open. Keith all but collapses inside. He searches wildly, eyes roving everywhere, looking for a body, a suit, tan skin, anything—

Lance is slumped over in the pilot’s chair. “Yahoo,” he mumbles, “Right here.”

“Lance,” Keith inhales a bated breath and rushes over to assess him.

He receives a half-hearted peace sign for his troubles. Lance’s fingers tremble. “Hey, good looking. You come here often?”

Still joking. That’s good. Keith pats his body down to assess for injuries. He meticulously starts removing armor when the bulky plating gets in the way.

“Woah, woah! At least three dates before the clothes come off, man. I’ll have you know that I’m a decent guy.”

“We’re literally dating, Lance.”

“Oh.” He dishes him a lopsided grin. “Well, in that case, proposition away.”

Keith ignores him. He’s concussed, that’s for sure. Who knows what other injuries are hiding? He wishes he had more light, but any more brightness would surely stab at Lance’s eyes. He continues to peel off pieces of armor and feel his limbs up and down. Keith only stops when he hears Lance wince.

He holds his forearm precariously. “Here? It hurts here?”

Lance nods. “Yeah it—I was holding the throttle lever when it, you know—fuck.” He grits his teeth and clenches his eyes shut.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t—I didn’t notice—I’m,” Lance takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be difficult.”

“You’re not difficult,” Keith rushes out quicker than he breathes, “Don’t be sorry. Ever.”

Lance lets out a watery laugh. “Ever?”

Keith nods solemnly.

“What if I do something evil? Like uh, get rid of all food that’s not goo? Or chuck your jacket out the airlock?”

“I might cry.”

“Fuck,” Lance hisses, “That’s worse. So much worse. Don’t uh—Keith, don’t do that.”

“Don’t cry?” Keith finds a gauze to wrap his bleeding arm in. Lance winces when he tightens it around the wound.

“Ah—yeah. You can’t cry. It’s illegal in ten states. And all of space.”

It takes all of Keith’s willpower not to burst into tears in that moment. He swears he’s not trying to be spiteful or petty, but the tightness in his throat suddenly has him in a chokehold. Everything catches up to him once he’s got Lance safe and secured in front of him. He’s here. Lance is here. He’s alive and he’s not hurt—not too badly—not skewered or impaled or crushed by anything, not unconscious or unresponsive. God, it could’ve been worse. So, so much worse. He could’ve, Lance might’ve—

“What?” Lance cries. “Did you have the waterworks ready on cue? What in the grammy-nominated actor is this? Are you—what are you—” He splutters. Despite all of it, Lance reaches forward with his uninjured arm to whisk the stray tears off his face.

“Guess I’m—” Keith hiccups. “Guess I’m an outlaw.”

With slow, stiff motions, Lance detaches himself from the seat and leans downwards to where Keith is kneeled. He winds his arms around Keith’s neck and fists his fingers into his hair.

“What are you doing? Your injury, it’s—”

“I’m obviously arresting you, genius. Hands behind my back.”

Keith sniffles but he still complies. “I thought it’s hands behind my back.”

“Nuh uh.” Lance shakes his head. “My lion, I make the rules.”

They stay like that, in their awkward embrace, until well after it becomes uncomfortable and Keith’s limbs get sore. They’re still drenched in their battle sweat and it’s a little gross, but he doesn’t want to let go. Lance’s heart beats against his, and what’s most important is that it beats. Keith feels it, feels the rise and fall of his chest, the little breaths against his neck, and the hair tickling his shoulder. He lets himself soak in it and he remains ever so grateful that it, this, can exist for even one more day.

if you liked this you might like my fics on ao3!

[shycorvid]

Danny- *turning on the kitchen light in the middle of the night for a glass of water on the first day he's moved into Jason's house* Tim- *sitting on top of the kitchen island, hunched over a container full of tuna casserole* Danny- ... Tim- ... Danny- You, uh, okay there? Tim- Danny- *turns the kitchen light off* *backs away* Yeah, dumb question.

Danny- Babe, your brother's here. Jason- *rolling out of bed, grabbing the emergency bat repellent* Again?!

So yeah Retired Hero Updated Again.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45138352/chapters/153925414

[bylightofdawn]

WIP Sunday

Hmmmmmn so this entire chapter is from a certain character's POV who I have been trying to obscure their identity though honestly? I don't think it's surprising at this point, I've kinda laid some huge breadcrumbs. Unfortunately, I don't have anything else to post for WIP. I thought about skipping it but honestly at this point? I'm headed into the end game of Seeds and it seems a little silly to try and edit around their presence since they play a huge part in the finale.

So I'm not going to try and hide their identity any further. I post all my WIP Sunday's beneath a spoiler tag so you as the reader can decide if they wish to engage with it. Just know from here on out there will be spoiler characters and potential spoilers headed into the end portion of Seeds.

I updated my master doc through Chapter 28 and holy fuckballs ya'll I'm at 139,137 words. So I am definitely going to break 150,00K. It's also 330 pages in 11pt font. I am not joking when I say I never want to write a long-fic like this ever again. This shit is exhausting.

Okay, onto WIP Sunday. I'll post some context beneath the cut.

As always it's unedited and prolly a bit shit considering I am kinda knackered tonight but it will hopefully get cleaned up and polished further down the line.

🚨🚨🚨 This is your warning, story spoilers behind the cut, engage at your own risk. 🚨🚨🚨

Context: For those unaware, Jango's older sister, Arla who everyone assumed died in the attack on their family homestead along with his parents was kidnapped and held captive by Death Watch for years. They brainwashed her, drugged her, branded her as their fucking property and abused her pretty horrifically until she became one of their soldiers and Tor's assassins. In the Rep Comm books she ends up in a mental asylum, a completely broken and shattered person after getting captured after an assassination gone wrong. It's pretty upsetting all around, especially since Traviss does this SUPER GROSS AND SQUICKY move where they have Jusik ends up wiping her memories of said trauma. And then because it's fucking Karen Traviss they end up together and it's just....so gross. So I went fuck that shit, it's my AU. She's been in Death Watch's hands for about a six years at this point and has some pretty hefty emotional trauma from her time with them. Arla gets captured during a Mandalorian raid on a Death Watch safehouse and it's revealed she's Jango's sister so Jaster and the others are trying to help deprogram her and safely wean her off the cocktail of drugs that Death Watch had her on. It's going....about as well as you could expect. LOL

Okay, onto the snippet....

They reconvened downstairs a few minutes later, and Arla somewhat reluctantly settled at the table next to the Mon Calamari while Jango sat at her side.

“Why are there Jedi here, Mereel?” She asked pointedly as she looked across the table at Jaster.

“Healer Vrootra here may be best suited to assist you in recovering from what Death Watch has done to you. Moreso than even Mij here so they have graciously agreed to meet with us to see if they can come up with a treatment plan for you.”

“I am a fully trained healer but I also specialize in trauma recovery. The Mand’alor also thought you would appreciate a more…let us say neutral third party.”

Arla eyed her Ril narrowly. “You’re a Jedi headshrink?”

“I wouldn’t call what I do that exactly but I do incorporate psychology into my repertoire if that is what you are asking. My compatriots often experience and witness some of the worst things in the galaxy. It can leave it’s traumatic mark on even the most stalwart of minds. And while we are taught to try and release our negative emotions into the Force, sometimes everyone needs a helping hand. I would be that helping hand if you would allow me, Arla.”

There was an earnest sort of kindness that radiated from the Jedi Healer.

“You’ll understand why I would be less than enthused to accept anything from a Jetii.” The blonde said a little ironically. “Others here at this table might be on good terms with your kind, but to me, you’re still our ancient enemies who once ravaged our home world and installed a false government full of collaborators and traitors.”

“That was centuries ago, we can remember the lessons that it teaches us but to cling to bad blood only serves to poison us.” Jaster pointed out with a small frown.

“Yet Mandalore still remembers and still bears the scars of their idea of justice.”

“We did just as much damage to our homeworld as the Jedi did. We cannot lay all of that at their feet.”

“I cannot speak on what the two of you are discussing with any real authority though I can tell you that we view that period as one of our greatest disgraces and something that the Jedi Order has sworn never to repeat. We are not like that anymore and have chosen to take a more neutral and non-martial path because of that shame. I wish to help you, not because you’re a Mandalorian or because I am a Jedi but because it is within my abilities to help health another sentient being’s pain.” The Mon Calamari said with soft sadness limning her words.

“I sense your pain, Arla, just as I can sense the drugs they filled your veins with. And I know you even now, you are feeling the creeping edges of withdrawal from them and how unpleasant it is.”

Surprise flickered across the woman’s face because she hadn’t even told Jango about the cramping she’d begun to feel in her guts or the headache that had begun to pound behind her eyes despite the rest she’d taken.

“I could help to cleanse the drugs from your body and help to ease the pangs of your withdrawal. Or you could choose to follow the medical plan Doctor Gilimar has drawn up for you. It will be a long and somewhat arduous path because you will need to be tapered off of it slowly lest it damages your liver and kidneys.”

“I’m not afraid of discomfort,” Arla said, knowing her words sounded weak even to her own ears.

“I know you do not, you have no doubt faced far worst pain, but why suffer needlessly? Or risk letting yourself be at anything less than your peak physical capability in the face of whatever your future holds? Something tells me you would prefer to be able to defend yourself and your kin.” Ril proved themselves to be more shrewd than the others had assumed because if you wanted to motivate a Mandalorian, implying they might be incapable of protecting their clan and family was a powerful and dangerous motivation.

Thankfully, Arla didn’t take offense to that statement. “Fine, but if you try and play any sly tricks, I’ll pin your fins to the wall.”

The Jedi didn’t bother to rise to that bait, and the two of them retreated to Arla’s room.

And for a while, that was her routine.

Life among the True Mandalorians settled into a sort of pensive holding pattern. Ril Vrootra visited daily. It was discussed and discarded almost immediately that Arla might go to the Jedi Temple but everyone agreed it might be overly much for her to handle from a mental health point of view.

It also went without saying that they didn’t dare risk her leaving the premises because while she’d proven to be a prickly albeit relatively quiet resident, she had not fully won over Jaster’s trust thus yet.

Still, she was allowed run of the floor and eventually the roof, which is where she came across Tal Almec one afternoon.

Arla took one look at the sallow-faced teen and the skittish look in those violet eyes and accurately read him to be one of the New Mandalorian members of the peace talks.

Death Watch had an special hatred for New Mandalorians whom they viewed as dar’manda and traitors to the Mandalorian way of life.

Ril had made some headway in helping to undo some of the psychological damage done to Arla over the years when it came to her captivity at Death Watch’s merciless hands. But it was going to be a long journey.

However, when Arla looked at the boy, she spotted an opportunity and easy, meek prey. A plan began to formulate in her brain as she smiled at him sweetly which seemed to startle the lad.

“Uh…hi. I didn’t know anyone else was up here. Am I interrupting you?”

“Not at all, I’m just enjoying the view.” In truth, she’d come up here after her latest exhausting session with Ril. The Jedi had managed almost completely to flush the potent cocktail of drugs from her system and the two of them had built enough of a rapport that the young Mandalorian begun to open up to the Jedi Healer regarding her time on Concordia.

They had been right, having a neutral party Ril Vrootra had proven herself to be excellent at her profession and new how best to navigate the often dangerous waters of a damaged psyche skillfully.

Arla felt better after each session but it also left her feeling drained both physically and emotionally.

“Shig?” She offered pleasantly enough and going by the way the boy’s eyes lit up, she knew her lure had been taken. From there, she waited and plotted.

She hadn’t even confided in Jango her plans.

Unlike what Jaster might have feared, she had no interest in running back into Death Watch’s open arms.

No, she intended on getting close enough to Tor Vizsla and she was going to kill him. Even if that required she play the part of still remaining loyal to their cause.

Tor was canny, she doubted he would immediately trust her after so long in enemy hands but she knew of his plans and knew when best to make her move. She simply had to find a way to escape the accursed confines of this damn complex.

Which is where Tal Almec came into play.

[inkpotsprite]

Working on yet another Titan's Tower AU, but this time with a Duke shaped twist.

[gaybirdnerd]

Scenario where when Iceman goes to apologize for what happened with Goose, Maverick just breaks down as he's leaving.

Ice is to the door when he hears a broken whisper of "I'm lost."

He turns around in confusion and watches as Maverick leans his head against his locker, tears slowly dripping off his face as he makes himself impossibly smaller against the locker.

"What?" is whispered between them, met with a shaking of a head and a hand covering a mouth in time to muffle a sob.

Ice walks to Maverick slowly, approaching like he would a wounded animal and stopping short when another sob escapes the smaller man, who simply curls into himself further.

At the next sob, Ice gently grabs Maverick by his shoulders and turns him around slowly, met with the most pitiful puppy eyes he's ever seen as they fill with tears and overflow in the same second.

"I'm lost" is spoken into the air between them as Maverick's face crumples further, any semblance of being put together falling.

In that second, Ice doesn't see the man who has been aggravating him this entire time; he doesn't see the cocksure man who did dangerous maneuvers to prove himself to the Navy. He sees a lost kid whose brother has just died due to an accident neither of them had the headspace to prevent in their competitive games.

Ice doesn't think as he reaches out and brings Maverick-Pete- into his embrace, strong arms encircling the smaller man as he sobs in earnest, his knees nearly buckle with the strength of his grief hitting him.

Pete curls his arms between them, cradling himself as Ice's arms squeeze his shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer as sobs turn into grieving wails, both of them sliding to the floor in the effort it takes Pete to finally let his anger and grief out.

Between the sobs and wails, Pete tries to explain what he means, getting out no more than one syllable as he tries to talk, being shushed by Ice soon after.

When Pete starts to hyperventilate, Ice drags him up off the floor and onto a bench, steadying both of them as he grabs a water bottle from Pete's locker and presses it against the back of his neck. He gets a gasp for his efforts, as the water bottle is still cold from when it was handed to Pete earlier.

Ice coaches Pete through breathing, holding him close, and rubbing a hand up and down his back to comfort him. When his breathing is finally as even as it's going to get while Pete still cries, sobs turning into whimpers as he buries his face in Ice's shoulder and breathes with Ice's coaching.

When his crying finally peters out, he's back to being Maverick, pulling away and wiping his face, reaching into his locker for a box of tissues Ice had not seen before.

"I'm sorry."

Ice startles at the words, staring at Maverick as he blows his nose.

"What for?"

Maverick shuffles and ducks his head, shame written in his shoulders, putting the box of tissues back into the locker. "Breaking down like that. It's not fair to you-"

"Shut up"

Maverick looks at Ice in shock, quickly turning to anger. "I'm trying to-"

"Apologize for being human." A hand lands on Maverick's shoulder as Ice shuffles a little closer to him. "You're trying to apologize for letting out pain and grief, something everyone feels. You two were close, and he was a good man. You're allowed your pain."

Maverick looks at him, puppy eyes still there, confounding Ice as he watches acceptance slowly bleed into the gaze of the man.

Maverick closes his eyes and sighs, another small tear escaping his right eye as he leans against Ice lightly, head thumping on his shoulder with the exhaustion he feels after such a large release of sadness.

Ice lets him stay there for a minute, bringing his head down to rest it on the shorter man's own. After a minute, he opens up his eyes and checks the clock on the wall above the door, sighing. Time to go.

Ice prods the younger man in the side, getting a twitch and a stifled, unidentifiable noise for his trouble.

Both of them stop and stare at each other, mischief lighting up Ice's eyes and distrust darkening Maverick's.

Deciding not to actually do anything, Ice stands up and gathers what he needs. "We should go, it's getting late."

A look at the clock brings Maverick back to the world, standing up quickly enough to wobble, gathering what he needs, and starting for the door.

Ice grabs Maverick's wrist. "Where are you going?"

"To my… bunk?" Maverick looks at the connection between them, then back at Ice's face and raises an eyebrow. "Is that illegal now?"

"No, I just don't think you should be alone." Ice starts gently dragging Maverick through the hallways.

Before he knows it, Maverick and Ice are in a resting room with the rest of their squad, Wolf and Hollywood staring as Ice shoves Maverick down onto a couch next to Slider, who simply glances at Maverick before going back to his book about who knows what. The others in the room simply ignore what's going on.

Maverick goes to say something- probably protest- before Ice sits down next to him with some paperwork pulled off the table, practically sitting on him as he does.

Maverick glares at him, getting a glare and a throat clearing back as Ice pointedly zips his lips and points to Slider, still reading.

In the minutes that follow, Maverick slowly relaxes, his exhaustion hitting him as he slowly drinks the water that had been previously pressed against his neck. As he finishes the bottle, he finds himself slumping into the couch, the calm silence of Slider and Ice combined with the quiet whispers of the others lulling him to sleep.

Ice startles briefly when he feels something against his shoulder, looking over to Maverick dozing on him with his mouth cracked open and his brows still slightly furrowed, the previous tear tracks on his face still visible.

Slider looks over, double-taking as he takes in the situation, opening his mouth before Ice puts a finger to his lips and shushes him. Wolf and Hollywood look over at the soft noise Ice makes, startling at the smallest of them sleeping on their ice-cold friend (pun intended).

"He must be absolutely exhausted if he's sleeping near us," is said, although Ice doesn't know who said it, too busy trying to move Maverick slowly so he's not as shrimp-shaped as he was. Slider reaches over and brings the man's feet to his own lap easily, slowly moving inch by inch so they don't wake the man.

A snuffle from Maverick stops them, the small tear running down his face breaking Wolf's heart based on the noise of hurt he lets out.

Eventually, Maverick is positioned so he's got his head on Ice's lap and his feet on Slider's, his shoes still on because they didn't want to risk it.

It takes hours before Maverick wakes up, a bottle of fresh water and a protein bar shoved in his face as soon as his eyes are open and he's taken in the ceiling above him.

He finds himself unable to be lonely after a small conversation with the others are being a team, his trust growing the more they work together.

After he and Ice save each other, he relinquishes himself to the group. They aren't Goose, Goose isn't coming back and it will always hurt, but they're his brothers. He'll take that over being alone any day.

[orpheeeeus]

There was a guy on Arthur’s train. 

Arthur didn’t know him, he couldn’t even see his face. 

He had dark hair, cut short, nothing remarkable. But there was something about him. Arthur didn’t know what. There was just something, something important. 

Arthur wanted to see the man’s face, he wanted to put a hand on his shoulder, to make him turn around. 

The train stopped.

It was Arthur’s stop.

He raised his hand, towards the man. There was so little space between them. If only he would allow Arthur to see his face.

But it was Arthur’s stop.

And he didn’t know the man.

So Arthur lowered his arm and grabbed his bag, his legs leading him out of the train. 

His mind was screaming, but his legs were steady, and the doors closed behind him. He was out. He hadn’t seen the stranger’s face. And he knew, deep down, that he would spend his life remembering this failed meeting, that, lying on his deathbed, the only thing before his eyes would be the train’s yellow light and–

The stranger’s back.

[ghost-bxrd]

It never gets easier.

Even now, almost two years later, Dick still finds himself waking from a light doze in a near panic when he can’t recall Jason’s whereabouts.

In his dreams, Jason smiles. Breathless laughter erupting out of him like light from the sun when Dick scoops him up, not understanding the frenzy with which Dick checks him over but submitting to it all the same, confusion giving way to indulgent exasperation regardless of how many times Dick buries his face in the owlet’s hair and cries. Like he doesn’t understand why Dick clings to him like his life depends on it, like he’s just been away for a few minutes to fetch a glass of water and doesn’t get what the fuss is all about about.

And then Dick wakes up, the comforting smell dissipating along with the dream, and Dick wishes he could reach inside his chest and claw the heart right out of it.

— Birds of Terror, Owl Song pt xv sneak peek