#Fasteners for Concrete

[fixdex-fastening-technology]

👉FIXDEX M8 concrete screw 💗large quantity with best price

[liroofrepair]

Nill Post System Installation (Patented)

The Nill Post System by Nill Building Solutions offers a waterproof method for attaching posts, particularly on top of roofs or deck surfaces without penetrating the waterproofing. Here's a concise guide on the installation: ### Preparation: - **Gather Tools and Materials**: You'll need the Nill Post System kit which includes the stainless mounting anchor, threaded rod, pre-drilled posts (Ipe, Mahogany, Pressure Treated, or Clear Cedar), and all necessary hardware. Additional tools might include a drill, level, and possibly a wrench for tightening. ### Installation Steps: 1. **Locate the Position**: Decide where you want the posts to be placed. Ensure this aligns with your project's structural requirements and aesthetic goals. 2. **Prepare the Surface**: - For roof applications, ensure the roofing membrane is intact where the post will be installed. - On decks or other surfaces, make sure there’s enough space for the flange of the Nill Post System. 3. **Install the Mounting Anchor**: - Attach the stainless steel mounting anchor (NB1D or similar part from the kit) onto the structure where the post will stand. This usually involves drilling into the structure to secure the anchor without compromising the waterproofing. 4. **Thread the Rod**: - Insert the threaded rod through the pre-drilled hole in the post from the bottom up. 5. **Attach the Post**: - Lower the post onto the anchor. The threaded rod should now align with the anchor. You might need to adjust the height or angle of the post to ensure it's plumb. 6. **Secure the Post**: - Use the provided hardware to fasten the post securely to the anchor. This could involve tightening nuts or screws, ensuring the post is firmly in place but without overtightening which could deform the materials. 7. **Check for Stability and Watertightness**: - Ensure the post is level and stable. Check that no part of the installation has compromised the waterproofing; the Nill system should maintain the integrity of the building envelope. 8. **Final Adjustments**: - Minor adjustments can be made if the post isn't perfectly vertical or if there's slight movement. This system allows for re-attachment without disrupting the waterproofing. ### Additional Notes: - **Maintenance**: Since this system is designed to be waterproof, maintenance should focus on checking the integrity of the seal around the anchor and ensuring no physical damage has occurred to the posts or hardware. - **Professional Installation**: While DIY is possible, for complex or high-risk installations, consider professional assistance to ensure structural integrity and warranty compliance. For further detailed instructions, including specific hardware usage, refer to the official Nill Building Solutions resources or installation videos.

[clariannt]

Discover the perfect blend of strength and aesthetics with Clariannt’s Twisted Concrete Nails. Engineered for superior performance and durability, our concrete nails offer an unbreakable and unbendable fastening solution for all your construction needs. Learn how Clariannt’s precision-crafted nails can elevate your projects with their unique twisted design and exceptional resilience.

[brassfastenersmanufacturers]

Brass Anchor Fastener Manufacturer in Jamnagar India

GK Metals is a leading brass anchor manufacturer in Jamnagar, India. We manufacture, supply and export a wide range of brass anchor fastener like brass drop in anchor, brass wood anchors, brass sleeve anchors, brass pool anchors and more as per custom requirements.

[nillbuildingsolution]

Exploring the Benefits of Nill's Patented Waterproof Anchors and Fasteners

Nill Building Solutions is all about making construction safer and stronger. We specialize in creating waterproof anchors and fasteners that can handle anything, from heavy-duty machinery to delicate fixtures. Our patented technology sets us apart, ensuring that our products provide the best possible performance.

Superior Strength and Stability

Our anchors and fasteners are built to last. Unlike traditional options, they offer superior strength and stability, giving you peace of mind knowing that your structures are secure. Whether it's holding up a beam or securing a plumbing pipe, Nill's products can handle the job with ease.

In construction, stability is everything. That's why our products are designed to provide maximum stability, even in the toughest conditions. Take, for example, our anchors used in a bridge construction project. Despite facing strong winds and heavy loads, they held firm, ensuring the safety of the bridge and everyone who crossed it.

100% Waterproof Protection

Water damage is one of the biggest threats to any structure. That's why our anchors and fasteners are equipped with advanced waterproofing technology. This technology prevents moisture from seeping in, protecting against corrosion and extending the lifespan of your structures.

From bridges to buildings, waterproofing is essential in preventing costly damage. With Nill's products, you get 100% waterproof protection, ensuring that your structures remain strong and durable for years to come. Whether it's rain, snow, or humidity, our products can withstand it all.

Fast and Easy Installation

We understand that time is money in construction. That's why our products are designed for fast and easy installation. With clear instructions and intuitive design, you can get the job done quickly and efficiently, saving both time and labor costs.

Our customers rave about the ease of installation of our products. Take, for example, a contractor who used our anchors in a commercial construction project. Thanks to their fast installation process, they were able to complete the project ahead of schedule, saving both time and money.

Guaranteed Peace of Mind

When you choose Nill Building Solutions, you can rest easy knowing that you're getting the best of the best. Our patented technology ensures the reliability and durability of our products, giving you peace of mind knowing that your structures are in good hands.

Don't just take our word for it—our satisfied customers can attest to the peace of mind provided by our products. Take, for example, a builder who used our anchors in a residential construction project. They were impressed by the reliability and durability of our products, knowing that they could trust them to keep their structures safe and secure.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Nill's patented waterproof anchors and fasteners offer a range of benefits that make them the ideal choice for any construction project. From superior strength and stability to 100% waterproof protection, our products are designed to exceed your expectations. So why settle for anything less? Choose Nill Building Solutions for your next construction project and experience the difference for yourself.

[kaizenmetals]

We hold a reputation for being a reputable manufacturer, exporter, and supplier of a large selection of Brass Anchors. 

This is made in accordance with global quality standards utilizing premium brass and cutting-edge technologies. 

Many diverse sectors, like the pharmaceutical, petrochemical, chemical, and textile ones, employ the anchor we offer. 

To meet the needs of our esteemed clients, this anchor is offered at market-beating costs in a wide range of forms, sizes, and patterns.

These are highly regarded by our clients as a result of its key qualities, such as precise design, simplicity of installation, tough construction, high strength, low maintenance requirements, and longevity. 

We provide our product line in a variety of parameters to satisfy the needs of the plastic and automotive industries. We export our goods to places like Southeast Asia, South America, and North America.

· We have in house facilities for productions such as Extrusion, Casting, Forging & Machining, CNC – VMC Products.

· We have German spectrometer for perfect results and also can share the Material Test Certificate

· We can share the best quote in the industry.

· We have capacity of manufacturing as per customer drawing or samples provided

· We can supply the components with best quality and services

[paintedonmyteeth]

World Cold and Hard, Titty Soft and Warm.

A/N: For some reason Tumblr wasn’t allowing me to write answers from that ask BUT I read it! Dw! I understand exactly where you want me to go with this lmao. No miscommunication there. I hope this is to your liking @tamakkkk :)) — I also decided to throw the mention of reader being in university ‘cause I wasn’t rlly a fan of the idea picturing them in their last year of Highschool.

Summary: You come home from yet another exhausting shift at work today, Mr. Crawling is concerned, but you don’t want to do anything except use him as your personal pillow.

(No warnings here! Just pure fluff and writing off of the Blissful Love Life ending 😌)

Mr. Crawling has been pacing in the little corridor at the front door for hours now, sitting in front of it like an anxious puppy, eagerly waiting for your return. The weekdays were about the worst ones for Mr. Crawling, it’s all 'work work work'. And never enough time for you to spend with Mr. Crawling. You’d leave for hours for either uni or work, leaving Mr. Crawling all to his lonesome, with the things you’ve given him to keep him entertained. But it’s not enough! Mr. Crawling wants to spend his time with you, he wanted to hear your voice, your smile, your hugs, head pats, and kisses, he wanted everything. But he was also beginning to notice how work/uni had been taking a toll on you too, you always come back home looking utterly exhausted and tired which greatly concerned him. He didn’t like seeing this side of you at all.

Mr. Crawling was by the front door again, lazily sprawled out on the floor with his arms tucked under his chin as he looked at the door with a saddened expression.

“☨ บ п ป ☨ п ጉ υ п コ ㅗこ…?” (Human come home…?)

Mr. Crawling murmured sadly with a soft whine, his shoulders sagged to his dismay, his attention glued to the front door. The white noise brought by the deafening silence that filled the apartment rung in his ears, the soft engine of a car rolling down the street sounded outside the apartment. Mr. Crawling’s frown deepened, another soft whine escaping his sealed lips.

He was really missing you.

His head dropped into his arms and he lied there silently, his legs stretched out behind him. You were taking longer than expected and it was beginning to worry him. You were coming back, right…? No. He shook his head vigorously, he shouldn’t think like that. But the thoughts still persisted, the memories of a time before he met you crept back into his mind; the lonesome concrete corridors of the Ghost Apartments, the aching feeling of loneliness inside his chest, nothing but endless halls and rooms to keep him company.

His mind was delving further into negative thoughts and the white noise drumming in his ears was growing louder and louder until — the sound of a metallic click went off and his mind immediately went hushed as he watched the door slowly swing open and your exhausted figure appearing in the frame. Mr. Crawling’s head perked and he immediately sat up, his features contorting to a big smile. You came back home.

“ત ટ д ィコ π ጉ!” (You return!)

He beamed, a soft giggle escaping him as he crawled towards you. You gave Mr. Crawling a tired hum in response, a faint smile lighting up your weary features as you slipped off your shoes and lazily dropped your bag on the floor. Mr. Crawling was over the moon ecstatic of your return, chirping 'Home! Home! Home!' In his broken ghostly language.

You trudged towards him and suddenly dropped to your knees, drawing him into your tight embrace and he yelped when you tipped the both of them backwards and Mr. Crawling hit the floor with a thud. He immediately returned the gesture just as your arms fastened tightly around him. The warmth of your embrace washing away all his worries and negative thoughts within seconds. Concern and curiosity immediately flash through his features when he took notice of your exhaustion written on your face as you inched closer to him, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

He sighed softly, reaching a hand up and cards his fingers through your hair, gently patting your head.

“Pat, pat.” He cooed quietly, his attempt at speaking your language a little broken and raspy sounding. But it’s a first. “こ ሰ п ㄷ?” (Sick?) Mr. Crawling questioned, he meant 'tired' in a sense, but his language was very limited of course.

You gave a soft tired hum in response and your eyes drooped shut. Mr. Crawling clung to you in reaction, his nose nestled into your hair as he took in the scent that was uniquely yours.

“々 ሰ π п?” (Rest?)

“々 ሰ π п.” (Rest.)

[youryanderedaddy]

Summary: You run into your snobby ex boyfriend after a drunken party. Things go south from there. tw: female reader, hinted murder, possessive behavior, condescension, financial(?) abuse, classism

You know this is a stupid, stupid idea. Going home at God knows what time in the pitch black is never a good idea, you think drowsily, head still spinning from the last beer, but even more so when you're tired, pissed off and tipsy. You're freezing, naked shoulders wet from the chilly midnight rain - but instead of soft damp linden, you smell molden concrete and metal. You fucking hate this city. You hate the stupid, flashy, obnoxious parties for rich people, and this shitty university in the middle of nowhere, and even the scholarship that forced you into close proximity with the freakish upper class of east New Hemptison.

"Baby!" A familiar voice sinks into the muddy darkness and you have to physically restrain yourself from emptying your stomach right there on the street - and knowing your neighbours, you'd have to clean it after too. His steps fasten and soon you feel his hand gripping your shoulder to turn you around. Standing before you, glistening just like some prince from a fairy tale, is everything you despise about this town. The fact that he's perfectly prim and proper despite the pounding rain, that his teeth seem almost pearly white in the dark, that his hair is crisp and slicked away tastefully, that even now he's wearing a fucking Armani shirt with the cheesiest pair of jeans (ones you could never afford) - it makes you want to crawl back to the cave you came from, two continents away, and never look back.

"Baby, where have you been?" He sounds terribly concerned as he pulls your shivering body in for a tight bear hug, running his hands through your absolutely soaked hair - murmuring something incomprehensible to your drunken mind. "I was worried sick, missy." His voice drops slightly, but it's all for show. He's playing the part of the good boyfriend, like always - and you fell for it once, you did, but you know better now. "I called you, like, sixty eight times. And nothing." He swallows, big hands trembling around you. "Just radio silence. I thought something bad happened to y-"

"Oh, f-uucking beat it." Your patience finally snaps and you push him off swiftly, barely contained anger starting to resurface again. Today was supposed to be about you, about healing, about feeling better, but just your luck - the very problem had found you, just like always. No matter where you go, your troubles follow. "You know what you did, asshole. Don't you d-aare play innocent with m-me." You hiss drunkenly, stumbling all over your words before hitting the wall all on your own. Mathew, of course, doesn't waste the oppurtunity to get closer to you - just so he can help you regain your balance, of course. The golden boy of Saint Hemptison would never take advantage of an intoxicated girl - much less his ex girlfriend who he's still hopelessly in love with, supposedly. Right.

"Baby, please, you're drunk - you're not making any sense." The man whispers softly, placing his hand at your hip. "Let's go to the penthouse. We can talk about this in the morning when you are more aware of your thoughts."

When you're more aware of your thoughts? You almost laugh. It's quite bittersweet when it hits you that he doesn't respect you even now - maybe he never has in the duration of your miserable relationshop, that in his eyes you'll always be the poor girl in need of a white knight. Just a little trophy to show off, if a bit broken in certain spots.

"I am not going anywhere with you." You mumble, trying to calm down - to appear cold and collected, the complete opposite of what he wants you to be. "Look, I know that you're mad at me, babygirl, but I'm sure your little temper tantrum can wait until tomorrow. You know I don't like this neighbourhood. Let me take you to a safe place for the night, okay?" He reaches for your hand again, but this time you swat it away in fury.

"Who are you to act so worried about me, huh?" You can hear your voice breaking as the tears prick at your eyes - hot and shameful. Crying in front of him is the last thing you want to do, but god, it's so hard not to when this whole night has been a disaster after a disaster. You're truly at your wits' end. "After what you did? You are truly shameless." You squeal, and admittedly, it feels fucking great to finally say it.

Your former lover's face twists into an unrecognizable grimace as he watches you tear into his heart with ease - and as you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist painfully. This time something is different about his eyes - they're not longer smiling. Now they're two bottomless gray pits devoid of kindness, the same eyes you saw the night of the accident as he caressed your cold cheek with bloody knuckles.

"And what did I do, love? Hm?" He tilts your chin up by squeezing your throat, forcing you to meet his eerie gaze. Suddenly all your tipsy bravado evaporates into thin air. "Please, refresh my memory. I really can't recall the events of the past two weeks - since you've been avoiding me and all..." His fingers dig into your skin and you wince just like a kicked puppy - but he doesn't bulge an inch. Suddenly everything comes flooding back - the touches you convinced yourself were sensual, not possesive, the glances you once thought of as romantic, the constant interrogations, the strange emails, the cryptic calls, the dead roses at your door. "I couldn't sleep - or eat for that matter. I am half a man without you. I lose myself completely."

It all makes sense now. You feel like crying, because it's so crystal clear... and you've been a willing fool. You had closed your eyes, because it was easier to lie than to accept the truth bubbling just under his surface - under the dimples and the smiles, and the hundred jewelry boxes still lying unopened under your bed.

"You - you killed him! You monster!" You gasp, unable to stop your lips from uttering the lethal. You thrash around to no avail, you're stuck. "How could you? Jack was your friend!" You hide your face in the crook of his neck to stop the sobs, too scared to look at the crazed man holding you. He simply rolls his eyes, letting you soak his shirt with your pretty tears. "Don't be so dramatic - it's just some broken bones. He'll be fine... as long as he stays away from my things."

You raise your head shakily - you're drowning between hatred, fear and misery. The adrenaline is making you even more disoriented than the liquor percentage in your bloodstream.

"I am not a fucking thing for you to-" You hiccup, growing woozy as you hit weakly against his chest. The corners of his lips curl up slightly as he chuckles at the pitiful display. "For you to just own!" You keep going, cheeks purple from pent up fury - there's something tearing at your insides like you want to scream, you need it to come out, but you find yourself unable to push it off your flesh like it's been ingrained with glue and a shovel.

"You're wrong, baby. I do own you." Mathew says with the sweetest, softest voice you've heard in your life, sugary and bitter like poisonous honey. "Let's say you want to break up-"

"We already broke u-"

His eyes pierce you mid-sentence. You quickly close your mouth.

"Let's say," He repeats through gritted teeth, holding you so tightly you might just merge into one being. "That you want to break up with me." He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring. "Hypothetically. Then what? You have no place to live. I know you're staying at that shithole of a hotel down the street right now - it's filthier than a brothel, no?"

You want to say something - to argue, to scream. To tell him that he's being a rich, condescending asshole again, that you like the hotel - despite the mold and the cockroaches and the way there never seems to be hot water. Despite having to lock your door four times so you don't get assaulted in your sleep.

You say nothing.

"You don't have to confirm it. My agent tracked you down a week ago. Whatever - you'll run out of money in, approximately, 9 days." He smirks maliciously, with unhidden spite - just like a little devil. "Then what? You don't even have an address. And you know the city hall will take their sweet fucking time to help you register - if they don't make you pay a fine first." He strokes your chin cruelly. "We both know just how much they care about clueless little foreigners with less than a penny to their name." He whispers, twisting the dagger in. "Hell, they may even cut your scholarship. And. then. what." Your ex pronounces each word slowly - making sure you can understand it, feel it - fear it.

You imagine your family back at home. You can hear their voices over the phone, your mom smiling as you tell her about your day, your father asking you what you plan to do after college - whether you will still remember them, whether you'd take care of them once they have nothing left, since you took everything with you. The money, the hopes, the happiness...

"F-fuck you..." You whimper faintly, falling against him. You feel defeated, and the sharp words are all you have left. "Why are you doing this to me?" You mumble to yourself, suddenly feeling drained to the very bone. The man begins stroking your hair as he rocks you gently to the side. "Because I love you." He slowly kisses down your neck. "Because I'm the only one in this city who gives a fuck about you, and-" You can feel his smile against your burning cheek. "Because you're mine."

[k9wa]

⟁ PLUMMET. ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — “swoopin’ in to save me again, sugar plum?”

⚠︎ mechanic!reader (but it isn’t really relevant), i saw boothill trailer and ran to google docs, gn reader (ma’am used once at the end) wc 1k.

“your bounty has been completed!”

boothill could feel the explosion of the ship, even from the distance he was and against the strong winds from his high speed fall. a rush of heat slapped him in the face, leaving a thorough hunger in his gut temporarily quelled.

“how would you like to land?”

the cyborg kept his hat fastened to his head with his palm against the top, eyes briefly glancing down to the city below he was slowly getting closer to plumetting down into.

“…good question.”

the ground was steadily approaching, even if it was gonna take him a solid second or two to actually reach it. he’d never tested if his body could withstand smacking against concrete from— give or take— six thousand feet in the air, but he had a small hunch today wasn’t the day to try his luck. becoming a blue splat on the pavement wasn’t exactly in the cards of his itinerary.

boothill’s eyes looked left, looked right, fingers twirling the rope on his belt. he doubted it’d do much to really help, but it was a start nonetheless. 

he eventually came up with an idea— a totally foolproof idea. loop his rope around one of the street lights when he got close enough, avoid hitting the ground, swing himself back up into the air, and land safe and sound on…wherever the hell he managed to land. hopefully on his feet. 

super simple, super easy. lightwork.

and so he eyed the ground, wrapping one end of his rope taught around his right palm, his left getting the momentum of the other end ready in a smooth swinging motion.

“c’mon now boothill,” he muttered to himself, voice thoroughly drowned out by the wind. “ain’t nothin’ but a lil’ repositionin’.”

he kept falling, getting closer, 

closer…

closer…

almost there…

boothill readied his hand to swing, but the motion quickly became unnecessary when something— or rather, someone— grabbed his wrist, and he was pulled upward with a shocked ‘muddle—!’ before he could test the success rate of his plan.

the cowboy snapped his head up, hat nearly tipping off his head. he was hung like a ragdoll from his arm, feet dangling down below him as his eyes met his apparent saviours—

of course.

boothill’s sharp teeth slowly shone in a wide grin, loud and scruffy laugh echoing into the still rather open air around him. because who else would it have been besides you, your brows slightly furrowed at him from the safety of your little hoverboard he remembered you tinkering with just a couple days ago.

“well fudge me!” he’d slap his knee if the position allowed. “look who it is— ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!” 

boothill reached up for your other hand, you wordlessly met him halfway reaching down, leaving both of your fingers locking around the others wrist.

“swoopin’ in to save me again, sugar plum?”

you shake your head with a sigh, hoverboard beginning a steady descent down. it was a little harder to balance with boothill weighing it down, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

“you’re lucky,” you half scoff. “i’ve got a sixth sense for you being an idiot.”

boothill’s hearty laugh echoed out again, the wind whipping around you leaving his hair tousled and a little tangled. 

“ain’t that the fudgin’ truth,” he jostled your hand a little. he doubted he could really get adrenaline rushes anymore, but this was pretty damn close. “reckon i’d be flatter than a darn hotcake if it weren’t for yer timely intervention!” 

his feet touching the ground were a welcome stabilisation, though the cyborg made no move to release your hand— instead he actually broke into a quick sprint, barely giving you the time to pick up your board as he tugged you along.

“you got somewhere to be or somethin’?”

you asked, stumbling a bit before you got your footing to keep up. you were just so cute when you pretended to be all sore with him.

“you bet i do— somewhere that ain’t swarmin’ with those sorry IPC shirtbags!”

it was a fair point— a giant explosion in the sky of one of their own ships made quite the beacon for attention.

running with him wasn’t so bad, at least. his grip around your wrist was surprisingly gentle, and the smell of him filled your nose in the wind as you trailed behind. some citrus, maybe cedar, and an unmistakable lingering of those phosphorus tracer bullets he chewed on so often. 

you two dipped around a corner, backed against an old brick wall as some heavy footsteps kept running the other way. 

“say, remind me to get’cha a drink later,” boothill gave a small tug to your wrist again, bringing you just a little closer. “as a thanks for all them times y’saved my sorry behind.”

boothill smiled when you chuckled rather than shooing his hand away or giving a smart response.

“you’re gonna have quite the tab going.” you carefully repositioned your hand with his, your fingers lacing together rather than him just holding your wrist. boothill’s eyes could have turned into cartoonish hearts.

“tell ya what,” his hand gave yours a squeeze. “i know a place. it ain’t too far from here, won’t have to worry about no one botherin’ us,” it was quite endearing, the way his voice still held that gentle rasp even as it softened. “i start workin’ off that tab, get a night with you, and heck we’re both winnin’ ain’t we?” 

you hummed at that. it didn’t sound so bad.

“alright,” you nodded. “but let’s focus on you not having to gun down another dozen IPC workers first.”

it was your turn to pull him along with a swift tug of his wrist, resuming your sprint just in time to avoid some more heavy footsteps heading in your direction.

“you weren’t pullin’ my leg about that sixth sense, were ya sweetheart?” boothill fell into a natural step behind you.

“consider this added to your tab.”

“yes ma’am!”

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[fixdex-fastening-technology]

👋 👋Looking for the 1m threaded rods from factory?

[f1fnatic]

DON'T LEAVE ME BEHIND! ⤿ m. verstappen 1

→ ( in which. . . ) you're at a dreaded sponsor event for redbull and find someone that resents them just as much as you do, if not more.

→ ( fanfic genre. . . ) written

→ ( pairing. . . ) max verstappen x fem!reader

→ ( content warnings/disclaimers. . . ) mutual pining, fluff, cursing, mentions of alcohol consumption, chr*stian ho*ner

→ ( authors note. . . ) woohoo! another fic done :p this is just one of the 17 (😀) drafts i have... anyways... hope you enjoy! see end for more

→ ( masterlist )

you wanted to leave. but you couldn't. you had always hated these types of stuck-up sponsor events. luckily, you noticed some body who hated them just as much as you.

you caught a glimpse of him before he was whisked away by one of the redbull higher-ups. his dirty blonde hair was easy to spot among the brunettes surrounding him.

you, unfortunately, were in the same boat. someone who you forgot the name of was talking your ear off, slurring something along the lines of it being beneficial for their brand if you were to join with them.

being a redbull athlete meant high expectations and a multitude of events. sometimes you were given a heads-up, but tonight you weren't. no, instead, this sponsorship party was sprung upon you by your manager 3 hours before it started. they blamed it on the fact that you were 'unbelievably busy' and 'it slipped their mind.' that put you in a sour mood. you were home, meaning that you had made plans with your family and friends that you had to regrettably cancel.

this man was getting on your last nerve. you could not handle another second of his borderline incoherent mumbling. so, you kindly excused yourself for a drink. you turned on your skinny heel and began to walk away. the corset of your dress digging into your ribs with every step. breathing was becoming a task with the tightening ties. instead of stopping at the bar, you continue walking towards the balcony.

rays of moonlight flood through the dauntingly tall glass doors. you step through the threshold and onto the unusually small balcony. the crisp air feels like a shot of espresso as you breathe in. it rejuvenates you. a light breeze sends shivers down your spine, goosebumps appearing in its wake. there isn't much decor on the platform. string lights are threaded through the railing, potted plants are set in each corner of the rectangular area, and a gas fireplace is placed to the left surrounded by cushioned chairs.

a figure is standing in front of you, body slumped over the rail. you walk over. once you get closer, you are met with the familiar face of max verstappen.

max knew who it was before you reached him. the clicking of your expensive heels on the concrete of the balcony gave you away. as did the cherry-vanilla perfume you adored so much as it wafted in the wind. he was infatuated by you. he very rarely got to see you in person, but when he did, he drank you in like a man starved. the pure beauty you held made him shrink within himself.

"i thought i saw you earlier." you comment. that was a partial lie. you didn't see him directly, but you felt him. you knew that he was there when his burning gaze was digging into the back of your head.

he only smiles. he knew you would be here, much to your dismay. he was almost considering telling christian that he fell ill and wouldn't be able to make it, but he couldn't risk not seeing you. max looked to you and you looked back, a sickeningly sweet smile on your pink tinted lips.

a comfortable silence blanketed the both of you. you had one arm laying atop the balcony rail while the right was propped on your cheek. the golden bracelets fell down your wrist and twinkled in the soft light. your gaze fastened on the breathtaking sight in front of you.

max stood beside you in a trance. everything about you had him head over heels in love (but he wouldn't admit that.) the way your hair softly blew in the breeze, the way your rich blue dress complimented every curve of your built body, and the way your eyes twinkled in the moonlight made butterflies flutter everywhere in his body. they started in his stomach then migrated to his toes and fingertips. he knew he was blushing and was bright red. but the small buzz he had going could be to blame.

you weren't sure when, but at some point your bodies grew closer. maybe it was just max, or maybe the both of you. but the added body heat began to slowly warm you up.

just like before, you could feel his intense, icy gaze burning into the side of your skull. "you're staring."

"i know. just enjoying the view." he replies simply. you turn to look at him, a shocked expression on your face. a light blush began to dust your cheeks.

"is that so?" you ask. he nods simply, closing his eyes and smiling. you playfully scoff before somberly adding, "you know you may grow tired."

"with you in front of me? never." he expresses. "truthfully y/n, if i could paint, you would be my muse. no doubt about it. i would never grow tired of looking at you. your beauty is simply awe inducing."

you were speechless. words escaped you and you were positive your blush got even darker. you shyly went to turn back to face the view but max's hand quickly found yours and tugged your body back to face him. he kept hold of your hand and interlaced your fingers with his.

"don't look away." he states. a heat began to bundle in your core. he had never talked to you this way, nor acted this way. you wish he would. there was something unreadable in his eyes, the bright blue darkening.

you silently stared at each other. neither of you daring to break eye contact. that is, until, the sound of someone clearing their throat made the two of you, unfortunately, separate. the lack of heat made the bitter cold even colder.

you turn your attention to the sound and are met with none other than christian horner. "i hope i'm not interrupting anything." he says smugly.

"nope, nothing at all." max responds, sheepishly sliding his hands into his pants pockets. christian stood in the door way, arms crossed like a doting father.

he acknowledges you with a simple "y/n." you respond with a nod. he then turns his attention back to max. "there's a sponsor wanting to talk to you. something about sunglasses. i told him i'd come and get you."

you look up to max and see him deflate a little. you gave him a sympathetic pout and patted him on the shoulder. "so then, let's go." christian pushes, annoyance laced into his tone. he turns to leave, returning inside just out of view of the glass doors.

max goes to follow, but now it was your turn to grab his hand and make him turn around. he does so enthusiastically. "don't leave me behind, yeah maxie?" you say moving your hands to his shoulders, locking your fingers behind his neck.

"i won't, i promise schatje." his hands went to rest on your hips. warmth radiated from his palms enveloping you in heat. the both of you started at one another, eyes locked and cheeks flushed, red like a sunburn.

max slowly moves in and you follow. the two of you always seemed to gravitate towards one another; like two galaxies yearning to twirl with each other.

you knew what he wanted, and he knew you wanted the same. blue eyes locked on your pink lips. instead of you connecting with his, you swerve and plant a kiss on his cheek; just at the intersection of skin and lip. your lipstick left a visible imprint almost like a stamp. his blue eyes twinkle and you smile. "you should go before horner grounds you."

max laughs before dropping his hands from your waist and you do the same. that same bitter cold returns but you knew it wouldn't last long, he would be back in no time.

"you'll still be out here, yeah?" he questions.

"i should, unless stephen hunts me down to talk to a sponsor."

"i'll find you before that." he winks. he bowed in front of you playfully. a laugh fell from your lips. god, he loved your laugh. he smiled at himself. turning on his heel he began retreating back inside. he turned to look over your shoulder, bidding you adieu.

there you stood, on the balcony, cheeks red, butterflies flying around restlessly throughout your body, yearning for the man that owned your heart.

first max fic! really happy with how this one turned out. AND OFF TOPIC BUT CHARLES FIRST GRAND PRIX WIN OF THE SEASON?? AND IT WAS MONACO?? OMG?? also, if you would like to be on the taglist, comment!!! requests and feedback are welcome! make sure to leave a comment and kudos as well (only if you want :P)

[listentoace]

The Cell

Listen here [08:23 NSFW]

You have been kidnapped and wake up in a small cell, maybe 12m²/130f². You see a few cameras on the ceiling, a toilet and shower in the corner, and a thick metal door locking you inside. But one thing stands out, which is a chair in front of a wall of 25 screens with a tube dangling from the ceiling above. You shift a little on your bed, noticing that you're fully naked and that your ankle is chained to the room center. You hear a loud "clank" sound and see the handle of the door moving. A tall man enters your dark cell, you can't fully see his face, but his wide grin sends shivers down your spine. "Hello there, little one.", he says as he walks up to you. Your heart is racing and you begin to sweat. "Let's get you in place, shall we?", he says, grabs you by your collar and drags you to the chair, the chain rattles and scratches over the concrete floor. As he sits you down, he immediately fastens your wrists and legs to the chair, making it impossible for you to move. You feel a nudge with knobs pushing against your pussy.

You notice another display, right above the 5x5 screen wall, which lights up and reads 163lbs. "Already a bit chubby, huh? Well, you'll soon be in heaven.", he says and pats your belly, causing the number on the display to jump around a little before it settles down at 163lbs again. His wide and warm hands glide over your body, pinching a few folds and rolls, before he pulls out his phone. Shortly after, you hear a humming noise and the tube lowers from the ceiling. He grabs it, straps it around your head and forces the tube into your mouth. The fit is tight enough that you won't be able to spill, yet not uncomfortable. The thick tube dangles in front of your face, blocking a little of your vision. Next, all the screens light up, shortly after displaying 25 different loops of captioned porn, with text reading from "good girls obey" to "your weight = your value", and even just single-word loops like "drink, drink, drink, ...". As you see this, your heart begins to race immediately, fearing the worst.

"You'll be sitting here for 14 hours a day from now on. You get a 5-minute break every hour to go to the bathroom. You'll be filmed and live streamed at all times, so feel free to say hi to the viewers.", he explains. There is a camera right in front of you, slightly below in front of you, one above you, one at a 45° angle, one at a 90° angle, and more in the cell's corners. You're already struggling to pay attention with all the porn in front of you. "You'll be unlocked automatically and a timer will appear on the ceiling display where you can currently see your weight. If you don't sit back down in time, the collar will start shocking you, just so you're warned.", he continues. You can feel your heart rate rise, it hasn't been this high in weeks, if not months. The porn you're forced to watch doesn't help and only makes your heart beat faster. "Good Girls get fat".

"You feel that nudge?", he asks and looks at you with a sinister grin. You nod, feeling the nudge against your pussy, which is already soaked. It stats to vibrate slowly, which you didn't see coming. It sends shivers down your spine and you already notice how your mind is starting to become blank. Your eyes constantly jump around between the screens, looking at cocks thrusting into pussies, cum shots, bouncing tits, jiggling asses, all at the same time on 25 screens. You're overwhelmed and don't know where to look. Everywhere are captions, heavily triggering you and making your pussy throb even more. "Well then, I guess you'll figure the rest out soon enough...", he finishes, gives your belly another pat, gropes your tits, and then just leaves the cell. Him leaving makes you panic slightly, but then the speakers turn on, playing some hypno track of fucking sounds, moaning, and several voices telling you to drink, give in, goon, get fatter, indulge, surrender, obey, serve, fatten, throb, grind, grow. You struggle not to lose the last bit of your mind, as you're bombarded by porn, captions, and the hypno audio track.

You hear a "ding" sound, and shortly after, a sweet, creamy liquid flows into your mouth. The second the sugar hits your tongue, the vibrator fires up, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. "Drink, drink, drink, drink, ..." pops up everywhere on the screens, conveniently censoring all the cocks, pussies, tits, and butts. The hypno track tells you in echoing voices that "good girls drink up", "it tastes soooo good", and "every gulp makes you even wetter". You hate how good the shake tastes, actually offering a full, sweet flavor that makes you want to just keep drinking. Before you know it, you've downed your first liter, the ceiling display reads 165lbs. The shake stops and the vibrator slows down again. Little do you know that people online can spend their money to both turn on your vibrator or to force more calories down your throat.

Before you know it, half an hour has gone by. Your pussy drips, your thighs are sticky and the sweat is running down your skin. Your mind is completely empty now, your eyes jump between the many screens of porn, frustrated that 9/10 times the intimate areas are censored by captions but every time they're not, you feel a rush, as you see a pair of tits bouncing up and down while she's being fucked. You never know when the next "ding" comes, but as soon as it does, you feel immense pleasure and always get very close to cumming. Unfortunately, you can't manage to get over the edge, but that might be by design. Another half hour later, the porn pauses. At first you don't get why, but it seems to be your break. The metal restraints open, freeing your ankles and wrists. You look up to the ceiling display, which reads 168lbs.

The first thing you do once your hands are free is rubbing your pussy. You just need to cum, after being stimulated like this for an hour. But the second you touch your pussy, your collar gives you a mild shock. "No touching", echoes from the speakers. You try getting up from the chair to go to the toilet, your legs are shaky and weak. You can barely walk, but luckily there is a railing mounted to the wall to help you get there. This will especially come in handy once you're a couple hundred pounds heavier. After finishing, you see the timer ticking, "02:13", "02:12", "02:11", so you waddle back to the chair and sit down again, the restraints automatically fasten. This will be your life from now on.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Thank you very much for reading! Depending on how you like this, I might turn it into a much longer, full story, which I'll also be reading/recording audios for. To ensure my efforts are worth it, please write a comment or dm about whether or not you want more of this. Thank you very much!

[yanderenightmare]

Nasty alpha wolf-boy Shiggy buying virgin bunny reader at a shady auction, taking her home and breeding her silly in all her tight bunny holes<3

BNHA ! THIRST

Shigaraki Tomura x darling

WC: 2.5k

TW: NSFW, captive darling, light bondage, oral giving/receiving, multiple orgasms and overstimulation, hybrid au

Shigaraki doesn’t get along with most other organizations aside from his own, but he could hold a certain respect for this establishment. He felt appreciated here – a valued customer – one with a hungry appetite the vendor saved only the very best herbivores for.

Herbivores like you.

“She was easy to tame- submissive like she was made for it!” The Master said. “A bit too submissive for my taste- but you know what they say about bunnies- cute like a button and just as dumb!”

Your thighs rubbed themselves where you stood in the dark of your blindfold. Bleating and cowering in the chastity belt they’d fixed tight around your lower body – having you sheathed on two thick cocks stretching out both virgin holes – making you drippy – vibrating inside you with purrs tickling your core in thrums he could hear from ten meters away.

“Stuff her in the trunk and take her home if you want- she’s so soft around the edges and pumped with hormones she won’t mind the bumpy road. You could take her right here on the concrete, and all she’d do is just moan!”

He could smell it in the air – how heated you were. Sopping like a braindead whore – he bet you’d been stuck in that chastity belt for hours, as sweaty and trembling as you were. Unstable were you stood in pink pumps soaked full of the slick running down your thighs – only managing to stand thanks to the big bodyguard behind you. He was a beastly fucker, squeezing one of your tits tight in a big bear paw while fisting your leash like a noose in the other, pulling the thick black collar kept snug on your throat only to feel your plush ass rub against his crotch.

The way your arms were cruelly bent behind your back was of no help to your balance either, making your perky tits strut forward. Stiff nipples begging for a suck or a twist or a slap – sculpted a bit by an additional harness shaped like a bra with no filling – just thin black leather lines extenuating that on display.

“My hunters swear she’s a pure little thing, so normally I would demand you pay extra-”

Two black heart-shaped eyepatches had you blindfolded but were kept lenient enough to allow tears to soak through, layered damp on your cheeks and giving a pretty plump bloat to your lips – sucking on the pink ballgag stuffed in your mouth, fastened tight around your head – making all your noises come out wet and even more feeble.

“But she’s yours free of charge if the league handles some business for me~”

Your lop ears drooped sadly down your cheeks, framing your cute face like a picture where your little nose kept wrinkling in terribly adorable sniffles – squealing on what he could tell was another ride over the edge.

“Deal.” He barked shortly, a growl in his throat.

The Master grinned. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Shigaraki.” Tossing him the keys to the lock on your cunt before snapping his fingers, gesturing for the bodyguard to do the same with the leash – pushing you in a wobbling stumble over to your new owner.

And then he really felt you tremble – soft yet stiff, bracing yourself against him – the smell of utter terror and arousal so thick he found himself drooling just at a single close whiff – all the hair on his tail spiked on strict end as a hunger growled low in his gut.

He felt his pants grow taut and gave a hiss – shoving you on your stomach in a sprawl onto the backseat. Throwing your legs inside before slamming the door shut – putting his fingers to his lips – your slick wet on them, glossy and sweet in his nose like a perfume as he licked them clean while getting in the car.

“Drive.” He muttered in another curt growl, signaling the man to his side to turn the keys as he pawed the straining tent bumping his boxers with yet another hiss.

Huffing, he closed his eyes, listening to you nom on your gag with wet cries and moans – his chest tight and brows furrowed – cursing having said yes to clean up another organization’s mess, and even more frustrated with your scent hanging heavy in the air, making everything spin for him – until finally reaching the base.

“Get out, Binky- welcome to your new home.”

He tugged your collar again soon after the car stopped, and out you shuffled – sweaty and shivering on legs that could barely hold their own weight – supported by the hand he had raked in your hair, pulling and dragging your body out into the cold.

Letting go once you were out of the backseat, he started fisting the leash instead, yanking you forward with heels clicking in no steady rhythm – wonky on the ground where you struggled to keep up with him. Slick between your thighs, rubbing together as you walked.

You were still blindfolded – floppy ears shifty at the sounds of doors opening and slamming shut, along with the threatening cheers of the crowd of villains drinking in the rooms the two of you passed. It’s as though he can hear you praying, hoping that he’s not planning on sharing you with the rest of the fray the way you flinch at the whistles and filthy comments being thrown your way.

You sped up until your tits bumped into his back – walking close with your head bowed to shield yourself.

Splitting a grin, he chuckled out a low snort. He hadn’t thought you’d be so silly to seek his comfort. But dumb as it was, his cock seemed to find it unexpectedly pleasant.

Reaching his room, he fished for his key – hands unsteady, tongue gracing his fangs as he unlocked it before stepping inside. Hauling you behind him into the musty space where he at once pounced on you like a predator who’d finally lost all patience. 

Paws with claws gabbed your tit with a force that made you stumble – almost fall if he hadn’t tugged you back by your leash. His tongue ran wet over the sweet drool dripping down your neck and chin – his canines close to your neck, making you shiver and bleat for him while his hand dropped down to cup your sex. 

Stopping short at the thick feel of latex beneath his fingertips, he growled and shoved you in a toppling wobble until your back hit the soft embrace of the bed behind you. You met it with a bounce and a yelp smothered in your gag – and he followed quickly, crawling on top of you with the key in hand. Carefully caressing the lock on your belt – thinking it would be a shame to destroy it when he could make use of it later. He would need to keep you protected if the way everyone eyed you was any indication. After all, he couldn't expect a base crawling with only carnivores to resist the scent of a herbivore as sweet as you.

He turned the key in the hole and pulled the cruel construction down your thighs, and you gave a whine, hips bucking at the release, quaking at the empty feeling while he eyed the lewd mixture of slick clinging in pretty bridges between the two closing holes and the two glossy rubber cocks still wet and warm with your heat. 

“You make quite a slutty mess for a virgin.” He teased, with two of his coarse fingers dragging up your slick clit – gleeful eyes watching you squirm while releasing a strangled sound caught between a moan and a scream – riddled with overstimulation to the point you were cumming in spasms from only the single little touch.

He only chuckled at the sight. Leaving you to pant and quake beneath him – with shakey breaths anticipating the painful pleasure of his touch once again. 

“Sensitive, scared, horny- tortured by your own fickle hormones and instincts- I know what you want…” He continued, now with the words leaving hot puffs against the slick skin on your thighs. “You want this teensy little rabbit hole destroyed by the big bad wolf….”

Your whimpers were like a symphony – sweet and softly tuned to strum every string in his gut – purring and stirring something sticky and heavy and starving inside of him.

“Look at this pussy….” He groaned with a click of his tongue – his eyes set on the wet puffy little thing between your legs. “So pretty- I could bite it.”

Your back took an arch, jumping from the bed once his hot mouth hit your mound – letting out another uncontrolled moan – heart pounding so loud and savagely in your chest he could feel it pulse on his tongue inside you as he lapped at you like a parched mutt.

His claws dug with greed, plunged deep into the cake of your thighs, locking you around his jaw where he mouthed at your core with eyes rolling back. Every fiber went on a rampage within him, zipping along his limbs and gathering in his gut like one tight-clenched aching fist.

“Mh-fuck-” He took a breath, mouth gaping and dripping with spit and slick before moving upward, sucking kisses into the soft skin of your tummy and soon locking his lips around your nipple – with one hand working your free titty, the other fucked your hole with horny curiosity, delving in the slick with twists and curls and scissoring.

You whined under his touches, quaking on all counts – listening to your hole squelch while your oh-so-sensitive insides clenched down hard from the warm knot coiling in your lower belly, coming so close to that all-over-feeling yet again – shaking your head in fear of it.

“Piss yourself if it helps- I don’t mind-” He growled out low in a whisper, his fangs against your throat now, grazing playfully with rugged breaths hot against your flushed skin. “I won’t stop until I’ve broken in each hole-”

Eyes big and swiveled with tears rippling down your cheeks in rushed rivulets, all the while your pussy made out with his fingers – feeling the fat digits test the flex of your gummy walls – slippery with slick and happily fluttering from his touches. 

You soon caved for the umpteenth time – whole body strangling to suppress the sensation while unsure how much more you could take before going numb.

“Tch- there you go~ good bunny~” He praised in mockery, snickering at your panting – his breath hot on your skin where he moved to hover above your gagged lips – undoing the straps to free your mouth.

“Ah please, m-master- please- no more-” You immediately begged, mouth wet with drool.

“Mh- you’ve got manners…” He moaned, keeping his fingers in your cunt while holding you by the ear in the other hand, gripping it tight and rubbing the thin softness like a lucky charm. Tugging himself out of his pants, messy with pre, he immediately steered the fatness to your mouth. “Open up~”

You took it with a small whine, feeling it push onto your tongue and further in until it hit the back of your throat in a kiss. He gave a groan, feeling your bloated lips wrap around the shaft as you glucked on his length in soft mewls – eyes panning from the view to watch your little titties bounce at the movement, doing small jumps for him as he rammed your sweet face.

He removed your eyepatches – wanting to see your pretty eyes glossy and big for him as you sucked his cock.

The look on your face made his gut rumble – so sweet-looking with your cinched brows and button-nose – eyeing him with cute anxiety, no doubt taking in the scary sight of his red eyes and his pale skin littered with scars.

You coughed cutely when he withdrew, and he bent over to kiss you again, spit stringing between your tongues as his fingers went back to your clitty – rubbing crass circles into it that had you squealing into his mouth.

“Please, master-” You cried, wringing your thighs shut tight around his hand – tears springing from the pity puddles of your eyes as you looked at him with such plead it made his gut roar.

He could only offer a gleeful giggle, spreading your thighs by pulling you snugly around his waist – his cock jumping eagerly above your navel as he bore over you – his breath hot on your face. “Don’t worry, baby bunny, I’ll stuff you up good. Breed you full of a warm creampie in your tight little cunt.” He cooed, fangs sharp and glistening – his paw flat on your belly, rubbing the flesh with want. “Right here~ warm and thick in your little womb~”

You shuddered at the threat, then whined an open-mouthed moan as he sleaved himself inside you. Feeling his every fat vein rub along your walls until his plush head nudged tight against your cervix – making you mewl with an arch in your back, clenching hard around the size of him. Shaking from the toll of it.

He groaned, starting to pound you already – fast and deep, just like a hound rutting. “I’m gonna give you my knot, Bunbun-” He drooled, sucking your cheek with tongue and teeth – red eyes set on your plump and pouty lips – gaping open and begging for more while he continued raving. “Gonna knot you up so tight- make this virgin pussy tremble for me-”

You could only pant, getting run through at such a pace your next orgasm was fucked right out of you. Sweat pilled on your forehead and nose, thighs trembling as you came on his thickness in hot, heaving moans. Throttling his cock for cum – which he soon spilled deep inside you just like he promised – painting your insides with it with balls clenching up, resting snugly against the slick that spilled out.

He was messy when he pulled out again. Glossy and still raging fat as he rolled you over on your stomach – pulling your ass up by your hips while you remained breathless with exhaustion, smudged against the pillowy sheets beneath you.

He laid his meat between your asscheeks, eyes lazily looking over your dewy face and how pretty you looked fucked out on his bed.

“This bunny-hole’s never felt cock either, huh?” He said, voice breathy but eager still – planting his tip at the opening of the taut little entrance before beginning to push.

You moaned out again but could only ball your fists for purchase, still kept in a lock behind your back – tightening them until your knuckles whitened while he crammed himself inside you one stout inch at a time.

“Mmh- fuck, so tight~ it’s gonna feel so fuckin’ good hugging me nice and snug~” He almost whined, getting swallowed down until his pelvis met your ass and the ball of fluff found there – doing a little dance just for him. “Fuck- look at you, little cottontail~” He groaned, leaving himself sunk down to the hilt inside you for a moment of appreciation before beginning to drag out to pound your stomach into a nice mess. “So perfect, I outta take a picture~”

tip-jar: Kofi

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Daughter Reader

Summary For years, you’ve survived tethered to Joel’s side, haunted by the loss of your sister and scared to step outside of his shadow. So when he bonds with the girl he’s tasked to smuggle, it strains your complicated relationship—until the threat of losing him forces you to confront just how much he means to you [angst, fluff, 5.4k].

A/N This is some of my favorite prose I've written recently. Daughter!reader is a new dynamic for me, but it was such a rewarding writing experience. Thank you to the anon who sent this request in. I hope you all enjoy.

∘°∘♡∘°∘

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆

It’s cold outside today. If the draft sneaking in through the windows isn’t enough to let on, the sky itself is an undeniable sign. There’s no blue, no clouds that can be distinguished from the next. The entire expanse is a pale white sheet. As if the heavens have decided to shield earth from its view because of how far it’s fallen. 

Nevertheless, life in the Boston Quarantine Zone labors on. Day after soulless day, rain or shine. Like a well-oiled machine who’s battered parts of flesh and blood refuse to lay down and die. 

The glass of the living room window is cool against your forehead as you gaze outside. Everything is dull. Brick, metal, concrete, and endless earthtones constitute the expanse of buildings that seemingly stretch for miles. However, after having explored every corner of this walled city, you know it’s finite. A mere portion of a much larger world trying to find its footing again. 

The people walking on the sidewalks below look small from the height of your apartment. All seeming to move on a droning autopilot, clad in worn clothes that likely belonged to ten other people before them. 

With a sigh, you step away from the window and plop back down on the couch. The coffee table is cluttered with stained, old papers and trinkets, but you reach for the stack of Polaroids you’d previously been flipping through. Each photo and caption transports you back to a past moment in time...

tea for two ♡ March 13, 2003 

A day that seems closer than it actually is, now confined to a single, glossy frame. The white border has faded to beige and the picture itself no longer bears its original saturation. In it, you and Sarah are wrapped in each other’s arms, dressed like princesses for the tea party you invited her to. 

You were her three-year-old shadow, and even though you got on her nerves half the time, she found it hard to say no to you. Everybody in the Miller household did. 

lake day!!! July 4, 2003 

A sunny day. You, Sarah, and Joel are squinting into the light but smiling, your backs to the lake. Later that night, according to Joel’s retelling, you cried because of the colorful, celebratory explosions bursting amid the night sky. 

dad’s getting old (jk ily dad) September 26, 2003

Joel’s smile is shy as he sits at the kitchen table with a cone birthday hat on his head. Sarah was the one behind the lens while you clung to her leg, both you and Tommy making goofy faces in hopes of making Joel smile wider. 

He turned thirty-six that day. By that evening, everything had changed. Not just because of the outbreak, but because Sarah, who had been a light in so many of the photos, was gone too. A few months after her fourteenth birthday, no less. 

It feels strange being twenty-three now. An age she never got to see—

The faint metallic clinking of a belt being fastened prompts you to curiously stand to your feet. After setting down the photos, you saunter to the hallway, where there’s a straight view to Joel’s bedroom. The door is cracked, and warm lamplight pours out to light the end of the hall. With each step closer you take, the old, wooden floorboards creak. 

When you make it to the door, you rap your knuckles against it a few soft times. There’s shuffling on the other side. 

You knock again when there’s no response. “Dad?” 

“What’s up?” he doesn’t say it in a clipped, annoyed way so you know he hadn’t heard your previous knocking. 

“Can I come in?” 

He’s quiet for a beat. “I’m finishing up getting dressed. But yeah.”

Inside, the bed still isn’t made. He’s standing in front of the full body mirror leaning against the wall. The paint of the gold trim around it is peeling, revealing the dark aluminum beneath. The glass itself is a bit foggy with stubborn grime that refuses to be scrubbed away. And right in the middle, at the same height that Joel stands, is a sizable spiderweb crack that makes his face look fragmented unless he bends down or shifts to either the left or right. 

Right now, he doesn’t seem to mind the distortion of his face, more interested in assessing his clothes. When you step up behind him, a little to the right, your entire body looks whole. Face and all. 

His eyes briefly flick to you as he continues to button the rest of his olive colored shirt. When he’s finished, he sucks in his stomach and pushes down the waistband of his dark jeans to rest at a more comfortable place on his hips. 

It isn’t until then that you notice a small portion of the back of his shirt is flipped up, the fabric thick enough to hold its place. You reach out to smooth it down. Joel hums in realization. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles. 

“Yep,” you murmur. “I thought you were off today.” 

Turning around and brushing past you, he sits in the accent chair to put on his boots. A grunt escapes him with the effort of leaning down. You watch as his thick, battered fingers fumble with the laces until they produce two neat bows. He sits back with a sigh when he’s done, running a hand through his fluffy, silvering hair. 

“I’m meeting with Marlene,” he says. The way you frown tells him that’s not a good thing, or nearly enough information. “Tess will be there too. It’s looking like we might be able to get that car battery we need to set out for Tommy.” 

You process that information with a slow nod. The idea of finding him feels elusive these days. 

A few weeks ago, Marlene told Joel she knew a couple guys who could provide resources. At various points in the months prior, she claimed the very same thing. Every promise she made fell flat because those said contacts either died or backed out of the negotiation. Yet, Joel held out hope every time. 

It used to be you who accompanied him whenever he went to meet with Marlene, but it’d gotten to the point where you couldn’t bring yourself to believe her or stand seeing her face. 

But Joel still did. For the sake of his own conscience. For Tommy. 

After standing from the chair, he fishes into his back pocket for a red cardstock meal card. When you reach out to take it from him, he doesn’t let go, instead opting to look directly into your eyes. 

“Want you to meet us for lunch at the northern dining commons at noon. We should be done by then,” he says, waiting for you to nod so he knows you’re tracking. 

“Don’t leave before then, alright? It’s getting crazier out there. Don’t know if it’s ‘cause summer’s coming or what.” 

“I won’t,” you insist. 

When you try to take the card again, he holds onto it just for the sake of coaxing a smile out of you. It doesn’t quite meet your eyes, but it’s enough to tie him over for now. He lets go of it just as you’re in the middle of pulling, and the lack of resistance makes you stumble backwards. The sound of amusement he huffs out earns him a light punch to the shoulder. 

“I mean it, though.” He points a finger. “Don’t leave till it’s time, alright? We’ll fill you in on everything then.” 

Rolling your eyes, you follow him back out into the living room. “I already said I wouldn’t.” 

“Well, reiterating is my job.” 

Those are the words he leaves you with before heading out the door.  

A few hours later, when the clock strikes twelve, you’re eating at the dining commons alone. Anxiousness prickles beneath your skin. You soothe yourself as chatter and the clinking of silverware float up all around you…

Everything’s fine. Joel’s alright. Tess is alright. Just finish eating and go home. 

•••

Sunset paints the sky that evening. The clouds that lingered all day have finally made way for an expressionist ombre of blue, pink, and orange. It's beautiful in a way that would’ve been worth photographing once upon a time. 

All you can think about is the fact that Joel hasn’t returned. 

A little past seven, voices arise in the hallway. They’re hushed and somewhat frustrated, one of them undeniably belonging to Joel. By the time keys hastily begin jingling in the door, you’re popping to your feet from the couch. A second later, it swings open with enough force that it hits the neighboring wall. 

“Get inside,” Joel orders. You can’t see him from where you’re standing. 

You can’t see anybody. 

“I don’t have to keep listening to you,” quips a tight, youthful voice. “Whatever happened to stranger danger?”  

“Move, Ellie,” Joel says. “Before I make you.” 

A young girl wearing a backpack trudges into the apartment with a scowl. After looking around the bleak accommodation, her eyes settle on you. The air falls silent. You note the wispy flyaways escaping her short ponytail, the slight redness to her eyes like she’s been either crying or rubbing them. 

Ellie sizes you up in return. You can see it in the calculated rove of her dark gaze, the way she squares her shoulder to match your guardedness. 

She eventually whips her attention back to Joel. “Who the hell is she?” 

“Told you I didn’t live alone.” That’s all he gives her before redirecting his attention to you. He seldom reveals the entirety of what he’s feeling in a given moment, but you can see the guilt weighing down on his shoulders. “I—” 

“You missed lunch.” 

He runs a heavy hand down his face. “I know.” 

The girl looks between the two of you with owl-like attentiveness that borders on amusement. At least she wasn’t the only one having a shitty day. Outside, shouting voices arise in the distance. Glass bottles break. 

“Dad. You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Ellie’s eyes widen at the revelation. 

Joel doesn’t say anything because you’re staring daggers straight into his very being.  

“I’m immune to the virus,” she speaks up. There’s a hint of pride in her tone, like she’s looking past the present to some undefined future in which she saves the world.  

“He’s gonna take me to the people who can find the cure. Then you guys are gonna go find Timmy or whatever—Tommy.”  

It’s an oversimplification, but Joel doesn’t have the energy to expound right now. Not when you look like you would lunge for him if it wasn’t for the girl.

••• 

Later that night, he sees the first shove coming. Your eyes darken until you’re no longer able to constrain your frustration to a mere look. It frustrates you all the more when he doesn’t budge. So you do it again, pushing both your hands straight into his chest. 

All he does is take a single step backwards to create distance, hands raised in surrender. The fact that he isn’t reacting makes more heat consume your face. 

Until, finally, he grabs your wrists. 

“Are you done acting like a child?” he asks.

“As soon as you quit treating me like one,” you bark. “All you do is give orders and break promises, and I’m supposed to keep following you around like a dog.” 

“I don’t see any shackles.”

“Because it’s you,” you retort, attempting to pull away from his light hold. “You’re the shackles, the prison guard, and the key.” 

Those words make him drop your wrists as if you’ve stung him with poison. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed and drops his head into his hands with a heavy sigh. The mattress creaks under his weight. In the new silence, you stand and stare at him as your breaths even out. 

Neither of you are aware that Ellie has her ear pressed to the other side of the bedroom door, listening. 

When he lifts his head, only then are you aware of how tired and worn down he looks. His hair is more disheveled than it was this morning. The same hair you used to playfully run your fingers through and litter with sparkly hair clips. Except now, his face is void of a smile. 

“I’m sorry about lunch, alright?” His dark eyes search yours for any inkling of forgiveness. He knows he scared you. That’s what’s beneath your anger. “I didn’t know I was gonna get held up like that.” 

Joel Miller was a lot of things, but a pushover wasn’t one of them. 

If he really wanted to, he could’ve at least come to the dining commons to explain. Or ignore Marlene’s request entirely, and force her to find someone else to smuggle the girl. Even Tess had refused to involve herself in the escape plan because she feared it would be all risk and no reward.

“What happens if these guys turn out to be dead too?” You ask Joel, voice softer than before. “What if this is yet another exchange that falls through?” 

He knows you have a point. He also knows he has a brother out there miles away who recently sent him a signal. 

“If there’s a chance, I gotta take it,” he says. “And if we get out there and nobody’s waiting for us, we’re heading to Wyoming anyway.” He meets your gaze. 

You swallow and blink in surprise. “Really?” 

“I’m done waiting around for the right time,” he says, voice low but firm. “It’s never gonna come. Gotta forge it ourselves.” 

He sounds sure. Right now, you could use something to believe in. And if nothing else, a change of scenery from the city walls you’ve been confined within for far too long. 

•••

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑

𝐈.

The Capitol Building is empty when you arrive, no sight of the men who were supposed to take Ellie and give you and Joel the supplies you need to carry on. For a while, the three of you linger hopefully on the inside, where grass grows through the chipped marble floors. The only people who eventually arrive are ridden with the virus, their rotting bodies infested with fungus from the inside out. 

You promptly flee the scene after swallowing disappointment like a pill. 

𝐈𝐈.

The front door of Bill and Frank’s house is unlocked when you arrive in the desolate suburbia. Dead grass and tall weeds constitute the yard. The flower beds out front have long wilted. That’s enough for you to know that they’re either dead or gone. Joel pushes into the house anyway, with you and Ellie trailing behind. Bill left a note behind. They’re dead. Ellie asks questions about them that Joel thoughtfully answers.

The three of you take turns showering, then leave.

𝐈𝐈𝐈.

By early August, the trio feels more like a unit, having been bound together by shared letdowns and long nights under the stars. Some days, you don’t know where you are until coming across specific landmarks or recognizable cliffs. You and Joel teach Ellie how to shoot because she wouldn’t stop begging. Most days, as you’re making progress towards Wyoming, it’s the two of you trailing behind Joel, who often shoots unreadable glances over his shoulder to make sure you’re keeping up. 

Sometimes he lets down his walls to offer a small smile. 

•••

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋

All around, tall trees stretch towards the sky, bearing vibrant leaves beginning to change colors. Every so often, a breeze rolls through and ruffles them. The same mourning dove has been calling out into the wind with no response in return. It’s a tune that filled the mornings of your childhood back when you were on the road to Boston with Joel. You hadn’t heard it much since. 

Twigs and leaves crunch beneath your boots as you squat to lower your fingertips into the creek. The water is cool against your skin, and clear enough to see the rocks at the bottom. When you stand up, you startle at the sight of Ellie standing a few yards away. She takes a few apologetic steps back, almost tripping over herself. 

Further away, Joel sits with his back propped against a tree as he reorganizes the contents of his backpack. 

“Jesus, El,” you sigh, pressing a hand to your chest over your heart. 

Ellie no longer seems sure of her reason for approaching you. There were times when she didn’t look her age—whether it be her stare or the way she carried herself—but this wasn’t one. Now, an air of self-consciousness surrounds her, like she’s caught between knowing nothing and everything all at once. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me,” she rushes out. There’s a pang of guilt when you realize she thinks you’re angry. 

“No, it’s fine,” you insist, softening your tone. “I’ve just been in my head.” 

She nods and feels more comfortable to step up alongside you. 

“I’ve seen those pictures you’ve been looking at.” She continues when you don’t say anything, “Was that your sister?” 

Neither you or Joel have brought her up, but your silence is an answer. 

“What was she like?” 

“I don’t remember much.” 

Only bits and pieces. The larger gaps have been filled in by Joel over the years. He never talks about Sarah at length, but sometimes he’ll see something or you’ll make an expression that reminds him of her. That usually prompted him to tell a short story. Oftentimes, without meeting your eyes because he was too busy trying to busy his restless hands. Talking about her always makes him fidget. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I know what it’s like to lose someone.” 

Ignoring her, you ask, “Did Joel say when we were gonna start back hiking?” 

Embarrassed, Ellie clears her throat and shakes her head no. “Why do you use his first name like that?” You almost hadn’t realized. 

“Force of habit.” Her brows have furrowed in confusion, so you explain, “Half the time, people in the QZ only listened to me when I threw his name in the mix. It holds a lot of weight among certain groups these days.” 

“Like he’s the boogeyman or something?”

You allow a small chuckle to escape at her words. She feels like it earns her a place back in your good graces. Pride glimmers in the grin that stretches across her face. 

“Something like that,” you agree. 

The familiar crunch of leaves rises as Joel makes the short venture over to the two of you. When he sees the fleeting smiles on your faces, he clears his throat and waits to see if he’ll be invited into whatever small moment of amusement had arisen. He seems to have just missed it. 

“Speaking of the devil,” Ellie says, 

Joel frowns, remaining quiet as he walks up to the edge of the creek. He stares into the bottom for a few thoughtful seconds. Both of you watch as he squats down to splash his face with water, humming with refreshment. 

Ellie no sooner moves to copy him. She laughs, a bubbly surprised sound, as she stands with her face dripping and eyes squeezed shut.

“Wait, how do I—” 

“Use your shirt,” Joel quips lightly. 

“Oh, yeah!” She uses her shirt to dry her eyes just as he had.

The chuckle that rumbles through Joel’s chest is a sound you haven’t heard in a while. It makes you stand up straighter, unconsciously shifting his way as if the sound has the power to heal that part of you that misses him even when he’s within reach. Misses how things were before he grew hard and consumed with the need to survive. 

You didn’t fault him for it, though. 

What’s become increasingly clear, however, is that need was born as much out of spite as it was out of the pure, unadulterated will to live. The end of the world took Sarah, and to Joel, ensuring the two of you endured no matter what was his fuck you to the universe. His proof that everything he cared about couldn’t be ripped from his hands. It was a muddled labor of love. 

But right here, right now, he’s laughing. Not urging silence or trying to instill a survival lesson. He’s letting the moment wash over him for what it is. There you stand watching the two of them like a mere onlooker frozen in place. The entire scene is reminiscent of a different time. A different Joel. 

Something heavy and bitter settles in your stomach at the sight of their twin smiles. 

“Are you gonna try it?” Ellie asks like she’s referring to some grand experience.

“It’s just water,” you say flatly. 

Face falling, Ellie looks to the ground as if the bridge connecting you two had been burned yet again. Something protective flares in Joel’s chest. 

He gives you a pointed look. “You feelin’ alright?” 

“I’m great. Grand even.” 

The air shifts, levity disappearing like a vapor. All three of you can feel it.

“Let’s keep moving then.”

For weeks, you keep it moving. Through rain, shine, and snow. The closer you get to Wyoming, the further away you drift from Ellie and Joel. Like you’re the corner piece of an island that’s been chipped away from the larger landmass. 

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

Arriving at the Jackson commune does little to mend things back to the way they were. Some days pass by with more conversation and laughter between the three of you than others. Coming here had been the very thing you longed for, right alongside Joel. But tonight, as you fold clothes at the secondhand store where you volunteer, you wonder what there is to dream about now. 

You don’t know what you like or want. You were so young when the outbreak began that Joel’s practices and motivations became your own. You don’t know where he ends and you begin, and the inability to distinguish makes a part of you resent him. 

The bells above the door jingle as Ellie enters with her backpack slung over her shoulder. Half of her hair is pulled into a ponytail, while the other falls in loose waves just past her shoulders. For once, it looks like she brushed it properly. 

You see more of her than Joel these days. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go over to Dina’s,” she says as she pads over to you. “Joel’s not home yet so I figured I’d come tell you.” She absentmindedly runs her hand over the cashmere sweater you’d folded minutes prior to her arrival. 

You set down the pair of jeans you just finished folding. “He’s not?” 

“No,” she says, unphased. “Probably went straight to the dining hall.” 

A dull, gnawing sense of worry arises in your chest. Ellie can’t see it or feel it herself, still tending to believe Joel was somehow invincible. That every time he went out for patrol, he was bound to return because that’s what he’d proven to her so far. 

“Be safe, okay?” you tell her. “Thanks for letting me know.” 

When she leaves, you head to the store owner in the back room. He’s rummaging through a huge box of donated items. 

“Hey, Stewart?”

There’s a click as two glasses knock into one another. “Goddammit—what?” He straightens up to turn around and face you. 

He has a head full of wiry gray hair and his glasses are crooked on his nose. There’s a light sheen of sweat beading on his forehead. 

“You alright back here?” you tease lightly. He grumbles and waves you off. “Would it be okay if I clocked out early? Natalie and Craig are out there, so you’ll still have help until closing.” It’s been pretty slow this evening anyways. No chance a random rush would occur. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, kid.” He huffs and looks back down at the box. “I’ll see you on Thursday.” 

“You’re the best, Stew.” You flash him a playful smile. 

Outside, you shiver at how cold it’s grown. Crossing your arms over your chest does little to alleviate the creeping chill. The first snow of the season has yet to fall, but you can feel it lingering in the crisp air. Nevertheless, Jackson Hole is buzzing. People of all ages flit in and out of shops and gathering spaces. Everywhere you look, there’s a friendly face, if not an actual friend. 

This time of year, the entire commune is reminiscent of those cute Christmas village displays. Plush wreaths with red bows hang on wooden posts, and colorful fairy lights shine all around. The most activity buzzes over at the dining hall. Families talk and laugh on the benches outside, and you can see people walking around inside through the windows. 

As you head that way, the two men standing on the patrol office porch capture your attention. It was probable that Joel was inside either logging or assessing his hours. 

When you make it to the building, you recognize the taller man as Cameron, someone who often partnered with Joel because they had the same, collected, no-nonsense way about them. They automatically nod to you in greeting, but their lips are set in firm lines like they have news you don’t. 

You offer a shaky smile back as a lump forms in your throat, “Evening.” 

Your heart rate speeds up as Cameron opens the door for you. Inside, six men stand circled around Tommy, who’s tone is firm as he talks with his hands. Some have rifles slung over their shoulders, and others have pistols on their hips. Standing among the group is Lyle, a younger guy who was scheduled to be Joel’s partner today. 

The only person missing is Joel. 

You allow your eyes to rove over the plaques, portraits, and retired weaponry decorating the walls as you await the end of Tommy’s lecture.  

“Let what happened out there today be a lesson—” Tommy stops talking when his eyes fall on you, and other heads turn to look your way. A few throats are cleared, necks are scratched. 

“Hold on a second, fellas.” He breaks out of the circle and heads towards you, cowboy boots clunking against the wood floorboards. There’s a rifle draped across his body like he’s ready for action. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says softly, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to gather what this meeting is all about. Everybody has discretely turned to look at the two of you. 

“Tommy…” 

“Why don’t we step outside for a second, yeah?” He places a gentle hand at the small of your back to guide you back out into the cold. Cameron and his buddy slip inside out of respect for your privacy. 

“What’s going on, Tommy?” 

He wrestles with how to answer. You see it in his dark eyes, the way he shifts his stance. His cheeks are a bit flushed. 

“Joel hasn’t made it back,” he breathes. “Lyle made it in without him around an hour ago. Said they ran into some disgruntled nomads and got split up,” he says. “Got a few people out looking for him now, and I’m about to go out myself.” 

How foolish you’ve been acting these past several weeks hits you all at once. Everything from purposely distancing yourself from Joel, to occasionally ignoring him whenever he tried to ask how you’ve been—you’d made a point to be away from the house as much as possible. Most of all, it’d been foolish to pretend he wasn’t one of the only people in the world you wouldn’t be able to live without.

A stinging sensation pricks in your eyes, but no tears form. You don’t have it in you to cry. Helplessness crashes down on you in the form of frustration. 

“What do you mean came back without him?” you ask. “What good are patrol partners if they’re just gonna leave you behind—” 

“Hey. Hey.” Tommy looks at you intently. His eyes are so much like Joel’s that you look away. “This ain’t the time to be pointing fingers, alright? When you’re out there like that and shit hits the fan, you don’t know how you’ll react.” 

“Definitely not by leaving my partner behind.” 

Joel had never left you behind. Things had gone sideways time after time again, but you managed to remain by each other’s side. 

Worry radiates off of you in waves. 

“I’m worried out my ass too,” Tommy admits, trying to assure you. “But judging other people ain’t gonna bring him back any faster,” he says. 

When release a heavy exhale and slink your head down, Tommy steps forwards to wrap his arms around you. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he promises. “You eaten dinner yet?” 

“I’ll probably throw up if I do.” 

He pulls away to look at you under the soft glow of the porchlight. “Let’s at least try to get a little something in your system, okay? I’ll walk you over to the dining hall.” Tommy guides you that way, and everything around you seems to fade in and out as you walk. 

Tommy’s words manage to break through to you, “I know my brother. He’ll make it back one way or another,” 

He always did. Maybe a bite to eat didn’t sound so bad. 

•••

The unyielding weight of your nerves forces sleep to find you when you make it home. Not in your bed, but on the couch as you sit and wait for Joel’s return. Worrying has taken a lot out of you. 

Creaky footsteps arise out on the porch. Then the lock clicks. Neither of which you register. By the time Joel is walking in through the front door, your eyes flutter open. There’s a slight sway to his stride like he’s favoring one leg. Other than that, he’s still in one piece. You’re on your feet in an instant, ignoring the crick in your neck. 

“Oh my god, Dad—thank god.” 

Joel stops in his tracks as you hurry over to him. He lets you look him over as if he’s a child who just fell off a bike. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” there’s a rasp to his voice.  

Relief is written all over your face. It’s the most interest you’ve shown in him in weeks, but he’s grateful for it anyways. He’s grateful for any mind you’re willing to pay him. 

There’s so much you want to say—I thought I lost you, don’t scare me like that again, I love you—but none of it comes out. Instead, it’s all packed into the way you step forward to throw your arms around him. 

But even hugging him brings you close enough. 

Luckily, he’s so tall and broad that you settle for the feeling of being safe, cocooned in his arms. He squeezes you, not in the playful way that used to be a means of making you smile, but in a way that solidifies his presence. Assures you that he’s never going to let go. That you don’t have to worry about living without him.

As your tears wet his shirt, he doesn’t ease up or pull away. He remains constant like he’s been throughout your entire life, even on the days you thought you wanted him to disappear. 

He presses a lingering kiss to the top of your head and you’re overcome with warmth.  

“I love you to pieces,” his voice is low and thick with sincerity. “So much it hurts.” 

It’s you who reluctantly pulls away to look up into his eyes. 

“I love you too,” you murmur, cheeks glistening with tears. 

The tears gathered in his eyes finally spill over. He doesn't turn away or tilt his head back in an attempt to fend them off. They simply roll down his cheeks at your words. You can’t recall seeing him cry since Sarah passed away. Guilt, sympathy, and gratitude swell in your chest. For the years he’s been strong for the both of you, for everyone who’s ever leaned on him in a time of need. He never made it look hard. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For everything. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—” 

“As long as you’re safe, I can handle being ignored.” He manages a small, sad smile. “It ain’t easy growing up during the end of the world.” Few things ever were. 

“It’s a little easier with you.” 

“Just a little?” He asks lightly. 

Both your smiles grow, and as you step back into his arms, every gripe and the chaotic events of the evening fade away.

- 

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all. 

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