#and he's not afraid for his own sake but he's terrified of seeing the boy he maybe confessed his feelings to when they were young + dumb

[lincolndjarin]

Every Now and Then - ch. one

[ I Dream of Something Wild ]

pairing : joel miller x f!reader, platonicsoulmate!tommy & f!reader

word count : 6.4k

summary : Joel Miller destroyed you. He loved you, then he left, leaving you in the New York City, QZ. But he's a good southern gentleman, so of course he didn't leave you without a reminder of the time you spent together. Four years later you're living in Jackson, in a lovely little ranch house. (With your reminder.) The last person you want to see is Joel Miller, unfortunately you've never been particularly lucky.

tags/warnings : 18+ mdni, angst, canon typical violence, injury, language, manipulation, joel takes advantage of readers situation, eventual smut, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader, she is picked up by joel at one point but i'm a firm believer that he's strong enough to lift any one who may find themselves in the pov of our reader, joel is possessive and controlling, dark!joel miller in a sense?? like he's not really dark now but he's going to be, multiple time lines, not canon compliant, mentions of prostitution, i sorta made up my own timeline, i probs missed tags sorry!!

a/n : i really need to fix my writing schedule so i'm hoping that having a new fic to put my energy into is going to help!! also sorry if this chapter doesn't have much going on i need to set up a lot of stuff but i promise more action in future chapters

ao3 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ main masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ kofi

He crept up on you like the shadows as the sun sets in the west. An all encompassing darkness that blotted out the sun until all that was left was night. He sunk his claws into you so deep that your eyes adjusted to the dark, and you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you shrunk away from the inevitable sunrise that made him cower away from the dawn as if he never really was big and scary. 

And in the light of day you saw him for what he really was.

He was just a man, who was once a boy, who was scared of the dark. 

So he made himself big, and terrifying, and he grew so accustomed to the thing he once feared that the very idea of anything else made him recoil.

You feel something akin to pity when you think of him now. That doesn’t mean you forgive him, but when you can stomach it you try to, for the sake of your peace. You’d probably be happier if you could just forgive him. 

But you can’t.

So you don’t. 

It’s hard when his own blood doesn’t think he’s a good man. Tommy was afraid of him. Terrified at the very thought of his big brother. You can recall several nights where you had woken up to him screaming in the sleeping bag beside you, absolutely petrified of a memory that had inevitably snuck in through the darkness. You never feared him quite like that, but seeing the effect he has on Tommy makes your stomach churn, a painful reminder of your own suffering.    

Most of the time it’s easier to just not think of him at all, despite the reminders he’s branded into you forever. You ignore him when he tries to soak back into your very being, but at the end of the day he’s unavoidable. You see him in the dark brown eyes of others, hear him in Tommy’s southern drawl, taste him when you have the occasional sip of whiskey. He tries and tries relentlessly to worm his way back into you, but you never let him. You put up walls and you focus on other things, anything, that isn’t Joel Miller. And even though you can’t forget him entirely you manage to ignore the memory of the man you once loved for several years.  

Until one day it’s impossible to keep the thought of him away. 

Until he himself makes it impossible.

Then - NEW YORK CITY, QUARANTINE ZONE : 2019

“Stay off of it or you’re going to lose it.”

That’s what the QZ doctor had told you. A couple weeks of bed rest was the most he could offer when you came to him with your broken ankle. 

A couple weeks without working is a death sentence. 

If you don’t work you won’t be able to afford food. And you don’t have anybody to fall back on, no family, no friends, not even an acquaintance to borrow funds from. 

Lose your leg or starve. 

As appealing as it sounds, starvation isn’t an option, too painful. 

So you have to work. The only issue with that is you’ve been blacklisted, the stupid doctor had you put on a no-shift list. You beg them to let you work, you’ll do anything, but they never budge. 

You only have enough ration cards stocked up to make it to the end of the week so you have to consider your other options. You could sell yourself. It certainly isn’t uncommon and the money’s good but it’s too dangerous, especially if you can’t run on your leg. You’ve seen too many people get hurt in that profession to risk it. You don’t have a trade. You’re terrible at sewing, you can’t cook, there isn’t a need for much of anything else and you own nothing valuable. 

So there’s only one other option for you. 

You steal. 

You dress inconspicuously, in your only pair of jeans and a plain shirt, both of which are getting rather tattered at this point but you have nothing else. With your jacket on you pull up your hood and you do the exact thing you aren’t supposed to do, and you walk. 

The conditions in the QZ are poor enough that your limp doesn’t stand out. You walk up and down the streets all day, slow and steady, with your head down and you don’t take risks. You don’t take anything big or obvious, just little things. A single ration card peeking out of a pocket, a pocket knife off a vendor's table, stale bread, set away from the good stuff where no one is looking. And you return home each night with your pockets full and your leg aching. 

By the end of your second week you’re still barely scraping by but you’re managing. What little ration cards you manage to snatch you use to buy food, but it’s still nothing compared to what you’re used to making. Your ankle feels worse by the day. 

You need more. 

You need to find a source of income that will let you rest or you’re going to lose your leg, which will leave you in an even worse position. It isn’t until you hear your neighbor slam his door that you come up with an idea. 

Your neighbor probably has more cards than he knows what to do with, and he’s always coming and going so he probably wouldn’t even notice if you skimmed a little off the top. Nothing substantial, just enough to keep you going and give your leg time to heal. 

The only problem is your neighbors reputation. 

You doubt you’d have much of a chance of surviving him if you got caught. Joel Miller was a bit of an urban legend around the QZ. Of course you only knew him as your stoic neighbor, just a guy who didn’t make a lot of noise and came home at strange hours, and sometimes disappeared for days at a time. 

But everyone else acted as if he was some kind of Boogey Man. You didn’t see him much in the streets but when you did children ran and people whispered, and while you had no knowledge of how he earned that reputation you knew it probably wasn’t pretty. 

So you’d have to be careful. 

He’s gone now, you’d heard him stopping down the hall so you decide it couldn’t hurt to take a peek, just scout out the area. 

You climb out onto the fire escape, your leg aching as you do, and you use the dull little knife you’d stolen a few days ago to shimmy open his window lock. It slides open pretty easily, he’s probably rather confident that nobody would ever mess with him so he doesn’t seem to have the usual precautions taken to protect his belongings. 

Lucky you. 

Stepping into the room you wince as you land on your bad leg, stumbling onto the floor, knocking a board loose in the process. 

“Shit.” You groan, sitting up quickly, trying to put everything back in its proper place when you catch a glimmer of something under the floor. 

A revolver. 

You shouldn’t be here. Joel Miller is a dangerous man, you knew that but you did this anyway, you can’t help but feel incredibly stupid as you stare at the weapon. You feel so stupid that you don’t even hear the click of a lock. You don’t even bother with the ration cards you can see peeking out from under the gun, you just want to leave and forget that you ever thought this was a good idea. It’s a struggle, getting back to your feet, your leg is throbbing, begging for a rest you can’t afford to take right now. With a groan you push the window open, eager for this silly idea to be over you try to figure out the best way to go about this. You’re starting to lose feeling in your leg, should you go bad leg first or try to balance on it while shimmying the rest of your body out the window? 

You never get to decide what the best course of action is because your head is slammed against the wall, your knees crumple underneath you as you hit the floor, the room spinning as your leg bends at an angle that makes you shriek. You slap your hand over your mouth but it’s far too late for that. He’s been here the whole time. It’s dark but you can still make out the foreboding shape of his figure. The broad shouldered beast that’s glaring down at you, his boot nudging your chin roughly as you bite back a shriek of fear. 

“I could report you to FEDRA for this.” The gruff voice whispers into the darkness. 

You’re desperate to avoid lockup, you know you’ll die in there, or worse. Although you’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen to you either way. 

“I- I’ll tell them about your contraband.” You point frantically at the loose floor board. “They’ll lock you up too.” His glare is unwavering as he stares down at you. You’re a little worried that he might just kill you himself, there would be no consequences, no one would be looking for you. 

No one would look for you. 

The thought makes you shudder and even though you try to stop yourself you feel your eyes beginning to water. You hear footsteps, watching his outline move across the room before you’re shrinking away from the light of a dim lamp in the corner. 

“You gotta be real dumb to find yourself in this situation.” He mutters, turning back around to stare at you. His gaze makes you want to cover yourself up, it’s like he can see every single part of you within that icy glare. You’ve never taken the time to really, truly look at him before but you do now, after all this might be your last chance to look at anything at all. 

He isn’t a terrible last sight. 

Sure, he’s ominous enough to make you want to try and run despite the ache in your calf right now, but that doesn’t make him any less handsome. In a rugged, weathered sort of way. He’s older than you thought, gray sprinkled throughout the mess of curls framing his face. What a nice face it is. Soft where it needs to be soft, sharp where it needs to be sharp. He marches back over to you, easily taking the pocket knife from your hand and crouching down in front of you.

“Give me one good reason not to finish you off right now.” He points the blade in the direction of your leg. “Seems like it’d be a mercy at this point.” 

Maybe he’s right. 

Maybe it would be a mercy to just let him put you out of your misery. Why have you been fighting so hard? You can’t seem to recall a reason other than the fact that that’s what you’re supposed to do. Your mind tells you that you’re supposed to keep fighting but you can’t think of a single driving force. You’re in pain, constantly, you live in a world that wants you dead, and you have no one relying on you. 

You don’t have a good reason, other than the fact that surviving is all you know how to do. So you look up at him and you nod. Taking in the sight of the pretty, frightening man one last time before closing your eyes. 

It feels good. You feel good, for the first time in a long time, knowing that you won’t hurt anymore. You won’t have to be afraid of someone kicking your door in, you won’t have to worry about where your next meal is going to come from, and you won’t have to worry about turning into a monster. It’s a mercy.

So you close your eyes.

Suddenly grateful for the killer before you, your guardian angel, here to deliver you the peace you didn’t know you needed. 

You wait patiently for the sting of a blade or the embrace of his hands around your throat but all you're met with is a sigh. When you finally find the courage to open your eyes he’s sitting on the edge of the bed across from you, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Just go.” He grumbles, muttering a few other words you don’t catch. 

You’re almost disappointed, having accepted this was the end, and now you’re being shoved back into the cold and unforgiving world. You start to get to your feet but your knees buckle under you. You try again, willing your leg to just work but much to your dismay you can’t even straighten out your leg anymore. When you try to move it all you find yourself only able to bend your knee a few inches.

Shit. 

You think of the fall you took on the way in and wonder if you finally pushed yourself to the limit. If you go back to the doctor will he remove the entire thing? Maybe you should just ask Joel to finish the job before it comes to that. It would be a kindness, between a quick death here or a slow death starving in your apartment you’ll take the quick way every time. Before you even have a chance to ask he’s on his feet. Maybe his patience has run out and you won’t have to ask at all. 

“Let me.” His voice rattles around in your head, so low and commanding that you put up no resistance as he lifts you up under your arms and sets you down on the edge of the bed where he just was. He flips the knife out, going to cut your jeans off of you but you stop him.

“Wait!” He freezes in place, giving you an impatient look. “These are my only jeans, just- just pull them down.” Before you can realize how embarrassing it might be to show your neighbor your faded pink panties, you're already unbuttoning your pants, lifting your hips up so he can pull them down your legs with a roll of his eyes. It’s painful, the feeling of the denim running against your skin but it’s better than not having any pants at all. 

Fuck. 

It’s been a while since you’ve actually looked at your leg. You’re surprised he was able to get your jeans off with how swollen it is, the flesh bulging around your ankle and now up your calf. The skin is shiny and blotchy with shades of purple and red. The sight of it makes you want to hurl but you manage to swallow the urge, looking away as he pokes at the tender flesh. 

“Christ girl, what the hell did you do?” When he grabs your ankle to lift your leg you yelp in pain, making him set your leg back down instinctively. 

“I just- it’s just a broken ankle.” You mumble as he gives you an incredulous look.

“Like hell it is.” Something about the sternness of his voice demands your obedience as you nod. “Wanna tell me what really happened?” 

“Well I- I fell and-” You struggle to find an excuse to justify how bad you let this get but you come up empty. So you tell the truth. “I fell off a ladder while painting over graffiti during my shift and broke my ankle. The doctor told me to stay off of it and- well, I couldn’t afford not to work so I just… didn’t” You rush through your words, staring anywhere else but into his demanding gaze as you explain yourself. 

“So you turned to stealin’.” He says it like the fact it is and you can only bring yourself to nod. “You need antibiotics.” He says just as matter of factly. “You know how much that sort of thing costs?” 

A lot. 

More than you’d have even if you were working overtime. 

He clears his throat and you finally meet his eyes. 

His eyes were so dark that day they threatened to swallow you whole. Were they always that dark? Or was it just that day, the first day, when he realized that he had you. 

“Look, I don’t do this kinda thing for just anybody. But I can help you.” He had sounded so kind, his hint of a smile had seemed so promising. 

“I can’t afford it-”

“You can use alternative methods to pay me back.” 

You told him you’d think about it. 

And he hadn’t pushed you, he had simply helped you back into your jeans and carried you back to your apartment. He told you he’d check on you tomorrow and see if you had an answer for him.

So when the next day came and you had a fever and your leg was throbbing, demanding your attention you’d been all too eager to accept his help. 

And just like that, it was your idea. 

It wasn’t his, he was blameless, you asked him to help you. And it didn’t matter who had suggested it first, it mattered who brought it up after. 

You had been certain that when he had told you you’d be using alternative methods to pay him back that his intentions were unsavory. And at that point you didn’t really care, you’d made your peace with that. The medicine you needed wasn’t cheap and you could find worse looking men who didn’t take care of themselves the way Joel did. 

But he wanted nothing of the sort. 

Southern Manners.

All he wanted was for you to take care of his apartment when he was out with his business partner, a woman who didn’t seem to dislike you but certainly didn’t care for you. He told you to take a week to just rest, take the medicine he brought you, eat the food that he fed you, and be good. So you did as he asked. And after a week you could move a bit more, you started spending your days at Joel’s tidying up and organizing while he was gone, it was much easier to stay off your leg for most of the day and he always made sure there was food and books for you while he was gone. And when he returned he would help you hobble back to your place and help you into bed without complaint and with a promise that he’d be back in the morning. 

But you still don’t relax around him.

It doesn’t make sense. Even someone who wasn’t known for their cruelty wouldn’t just take a stranger in. You’d like to believe that there’s good in people but you know better than to have that kind of faith. There isn’t enough left of the world to share the remains. Yet Joel does. He doesn’t ask to know you better and he certainly doesn’t tell you about himself yet he shows you more kindness than anyone else in your life has before. 

He must like having someone to take care of. 

That’s how you explain it to yourself. 

You watch him with Tess and it’s clear who’s in charge there, she barely even lets him stitch her up when she returns to the apartment. Joel gets frustrated every time, huffing and pacing around the room before finding some way to tend to you in her place. Icing your leg, or bringing you a new book to read, or feeding you. 

It took a few months for your leg to heal, it had been in such bad shape a part of you worried that it might never be the same as it once was. 

After the first month of your arrangement Joel told you his knees hurt and he wouldn’t be able to carry you home, you offered to just walk yourself over, your leg didn’t hurt that bad anymore and you were more than capable of walking short distances. But he insisted you stay, told you you could sleep in the bed and he’d take the couch.

But his knees hurt, you couldn’t let him do that. 

And you told him you’d take the couch and he told you he wouldn’t feel right making you sleep on the couch with your leg the way it was. 

So you told him you’d both just sleep in the bed. It wasn’t a big deal. You trusted him, of course you did, he had an opportunity to exploit you and he didn’t, if he was going to hurt you he would have done it already. 

He had acted unsure. 

You know now that it was acting. 

So you had insisted. You told him it was okay, you told him you felt safe with him. 

It was your idea. 

Even though it hadn’t been your idea to stay that night.

You had insisted he get in the bed with you. 

A fact that he would bring up often in the months to come. 

He would still help you to your apartment some nights, but just as often he’d complain about his knees and you’d stay. You got used to his warmth, you got used to waking up in his arms and not talking about it in the morning. 

So it made sense when he told you that you should keep your pajamas at his apartment. 

It made sense when he got a toothbrush for you to keep in his bathroom cabinet. 

It made sense when he told you that he couldn’t find new clothes in your size and you could just wear his. 

It made sense when he told you that he and Tess had never been a thing, so you had no reason to feel weird about sleeping in his bed. 

And it made sense when he told you that he’d hold onto the keys to your apartment, afterall you wouldn’t want to lose them. 

Joel Miller was a glue trap. And you had waded across his sticky surface without a care in the world, never realizing that it was getting harder and harder to move until you were standing still. Until the only way you were going to escape was by biting off your own leg. 

You don’t remember when you stopped returning to your own apartment completely, but you know that it happened early on, before you’d even started chewing. 

Now - JACKSON, WYOMING : 2023

“Ruth?” You’re gonna be late if you don’t find her soon. The turntable in the corner of the kitchen plays a 3 Doors Down song as you lift the table cloth, searching for the little girl. “We don’t have time to play, we need to get you to school.” You groan, turning to face the boy currently sitting in a highchair he’s just about grown out of. “Do you know where she is?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, glaring at him as he shrugs. 

Of course he isn’t going to tell. They look out for each other before anyone else, a fact that normally fills you with joy but not when they’re ganging up against you. Thankfully you catch his eye as he shoots a glance at the pantry. Pulling the door open you’re quickly met with the sight of Ruth, giggling on the floor. You pick her up, putting her in her own highchair before setting a plate of fruits down in front of her.

“Eat. We don’t have time to play this morning, young lady.” You poke your fork in her direction as you sit down across from them.

“Eat.” She repeats in a mocking tone, her brother erupting into a fit of giggles at the impression as you sigh. They need to be at the community center in half an hour. You make the job schedules on Friday and you need as much time as possible if you want to finish them in one day. You’re having a hard time focusing on the mess your son is making as he smashes each blueberry down onto the table before popping them into his mouth as you try to schedule your own weekend. 

You need to finish all of your work today while the kids are gone so you don’t have to juggle watching them and working later, it shouldn’t be too much of an issue, scheduling should only take a few hours if you really zero in on it. You have dinner with Tommy and Maria tomorrow and you promised to bring dessert so you’ll have to take the kids to the market tonight, which also means you’re going to have to find supplies to barter with before you go. 

You have nothing planned on Sunday.

You’ll have to change that. 

You hate having nothing to do.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as a blueberry hits you in the forehead. Both twins laugh now as you frown at them. 

“Behave or I’ll tell your aunt that you’ve been bad.” Both children look at each other nervously before returning to their breakfast. You were never stern enough with them. You loved them too much, you couldn’t ever bring yourself to yell at them, and it wasn’t like they were troublemakers by any means, they were just kids with a lot of energy in the mornings. And when they did misbehave a small threat of telling Maria was enough to make them stop whatever it was they were doing. 

You finish up your own plate and start getting ready to leave as the kids start giggling again to themselves. When their plates are empty you use a wet washcloth to clean their hands and faces before lifting each of them out of their respective seats, letting them run off a bit more energy before you head out. You set all three bags down in front of the door. Yours being the beige over the shoulder bag accompanied by two little backpacks. Ruth’s green canvas bag is covered in mud and other remnants of the yard that she’s brought in with her but Arthur’s purple backpack is kept neat and tidy. You slip into your coat before turning just in time to watch your son dive into the couch, quickly followed by his sister. 

“Come on little ducks. Time for school.” You take their jackets off the hook, holding them out to them as they rush over to you, tugging their own coats on before grabbing their bags, once you pull the door open they both rush out into the cool autumn morning, talking to each other in hushed tones. Always secrets with those two. It would probably make you a little worried if these were normal circumstances, the way they don’t let anyone in except each other, with you being the only exception. But the world is a terrifying place, it brings you peace to know that they have each other. 

A part of you is certain you wouldn’t have been able to handle just one. 

One little person relying on you, all while you’re doing your best to hold it all together? It sounds like a nightmare. It’s better that they have each other. Once you’re standing outside the community center, busy with parents dropping off their children, you kneel down. 

“Be good, if you behave today you can go to the market tonight.” The promise of the market has both of them grinning, showing off the teeth they’ve both recently had grow in. “I love you, I’ll see you in a bit.” You hold open your arms, each of them taking their respective sides as they wrap themselves around you. You take your daughter's face in your hands before pressing a kiss to her forehead, repeating the motion with your son. After a few “love you mama’s” they both run into the building, once you’re sure they’re safe inside you head off in the direction of town hall. 

You have what you would call the best job in town, despite the fact that no one else seems to want to do it. 

Maria understood when you arrived that you needed something that let you work from home if needed, you needed something that kept your mind busy but also gave you time with the kids. So you took care of the parts of Jackson most didn’t think about. 

You document all of the citizens, you make the shift schedules, and you make sure everyone has the necessities. You take care of housing, when big hauls from scavenging come in you divide them up among the people who need them. You make the meal schedules for the dining hall, and you make the crop schedules. 

You keep Jackson moving. 

When you arrived all of this was Maria’s job along with her other duties, when you told her you wanted something engaging and demanding she was more than willing to pass off those duties to you. So now you’ve got to make the schedule. Town hall is nothing more than a house with several desks for people doing work similar to yours but thankfully you’ve been lucky enough to reserve your own office in one of the bedrooms. 

Most Friday's Maria visits you for lunch but you know she’s on patrol currently, another perk of this job is knowing where everyone is, all the time.

No surprises. 

You hate surprises. (With a few exceptions.)

One of the exceptions is waiting for you in your office, Tommy sits with his legs up on your desk, reading over this past week's schedule. 

“You put me on crop harvest way more than anyone else.” He grumbles, tossing your notebook down.

“It’s the end of the season, everyones on crop harvest.” You lean down, kissing his cheek before taking your place across from him, immediately getting to work as he groans. 

“Maria gets to go on patrol.” 

“Council gets first dibs on patrols during harvest season.” The tip of your favorite pen is dry so you quickly bring it to your mouth, wetting it with your tongue before you start writing out jobs for this upcoming week. The second he sees how many farming related jobs you’re listing he leans back in his chair, groaning and running his fingers through his dark curls. 

Today’s his day off. You always gave anyone doing more manual labor three days off instead of two. 

“I can get you on one patrol shift but they’re going to need your help with the corn.” You write his name in with the Monday and Tuesday patrol squad, filling in the rest of his week with harvest as he grins. 

“Thank you, darlin’.” He drawls. You hate that nickname, you hate that he isn’t the first to give it to you but you never complain, you’d let Tommy get away with murder at this point. It’s the least you can do considering everything he’s given you. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever. You’re only getting a two-day weekend next week.” You mumble, searching through the list of citizens, trying to pick out the people you know won’t mind the hard work. 

“Fine by me.” You have a complicated relationship with that smile of his. You can love it all you want but that doesn’t change the fact that it makes you uneasy, it doesn’t help that you’re starting to see that same smile in your son. 

“I was thinking about berry cobbler for tomorrow night.” Molly twisted her ankle last week, make sure she isn’t standing. You put her down for shucking corn, she can sit in the dining hall and work. 

“We have a bunch of extra sweet potatoes if you want to make sweet potato pie.” He takes your crop ledger, flipping through it, clearly not reading a thing. 

“Ruth hates sweet potatoes.” Marcus insists he’s capable of doing manual labor, his pride won’t let him act his age. You put him down for pushing the wheelbarrows, he won’t have to bend down to pick anything up but hopefully he’ll still feel like he’s doing enough. You’ve told him countless times that at his age he shouldn’t be working so hard but he always insists. 

“Shit, forgot about that. Maria might have some apples.” 

“I’ll stop by tonight before I take the kids to the market.” 

You’re thankful for Tommy.

He keeps your mind busy with conversation while you work, and he’s one of the only people you actually trust. By the time you’re almost done you know you need to go get the kids, with a conflicted glance at the clock you start to gather your things but Tommy beats you to it.

“I’ll go get them, Maria should be home from patrol soon, she’ll want to see them.” He’s already putting his coat on so you stay seated. 

“Are you sure?” You already know there’s no reason to argue, he’s stubborn, just like his brother. 

“It’s the least I can do to make up for bothering you all day.” He steps around the desk to give you a peck on the cheek before going to leave. “Just come by the house when you’re done, no rush.” And just like that he’s gone. 

You make quick work of your remaining duties. Finishing everything within a half an hour before heading out in the direction of the Miller’s farm house on the edge of town. It’s only a few houses away from your ranch house, a fact that you couldn’t be more grateful for, if it weren’t for Tommy and Maria you aren’t sure you’d have been able to handle those first few months of parenthood. Most people in town assumed Tommy must be the father purely based on how much effort he put into taking care of not only them, but you as well. As you make your way up their porch steps and into the living room you’re also reminded of the similarities. You can’t blame people for making assumptions, even Maria thought he was the father. The twins have his eyes, (which by association means that they also have his eyes, but you try not to dwell on that.) Ruth has your nose but Arthur has that Miller curve already starting to show on his little nose. Both little ones are sitting in the big recliner with their uncle as he tries to get them to settle down while he reads to them but the second they see you, both are scrambling out of the chair to hug your legs. 

And everything goes exactly how it’s supposed to. 

(Of course it does, you plan every day down to the minute.) 

You give Tommy the list of things you need along with a few things he can trade them for and he takes the kids down the street to the market as you sit at the kitchen counter, talking to Maria about her patrol. You had all planned to go to the market together but she’d insisted she was tired and you didn’t want her to be here alone so you stayed, helping her cook dinner. And you talked about all the things you knew you would, something cute the kids did, how her patrol went, what things you could put on the dining hall menu in the coming weeks. 

It’s all exactly how it should be. 

Until she frowns. 

“Are you busy Sunday?” You had sensed something was wrong with her but you assumed maybe she was just a little rattled coming off of a three day patrol. 

“No, did you need something?” You continue to chop up the sweet potatoes she now planned to use tonight instead of tomorrow. 

“We found a couple of strays, I thought maybe we could get them settled in.” 

Odd. 

Normally finding survivors would be the first thing she mentioned after returning, even stranger is the fact that she’d often waste no time getting them supplies and a home to make their own. But you're not one to question Maria’s judgment.

“Sure, we can do that Sunday morning.” You want to ask questions about it but she’s already changed the subject to doing a clothing drive at the community center so you don’t press. Despite the way the look on her face is bothering you.

It wasn’t fear, or discomfort, or something you could explain away with the excuse of the strays being off putting or violent. 

It’s a look of pity. 

As if she feels bad for even asking. 

It unsettles you enough to leave it be. Making idle chit chat with her until Tommy returns with the twins and you take them home. It unsettles you as you make your own dinner, as you give the twins a bath, and as you help them into their pajamas and read them a story. It never leaves your mind. 

“Goodnight Ruthie.” You lean down to kiss her forehead, watching her eyes flutter shut as she continues to fight sleep. Always the stubborn one. 

“Night Mama.” You take the stuffed bear from the foot of her bed, tucking it in beside her before quietly standing, walking across the room to your son's bed. 

“Goodnight Arthur.” You lean down, kissing both of his rosy cheeks, he doesn’t fight sleep the way his sister does. So similar but so different. 

“Goodnight Mama.” His little voice has the same southern drawl you know he’s been picking up from Tommy. 

“I love you, little ducks.” You smile at him, turning to see that Ruth is already asleep, you tuck in the blankets around Arthur before leaving, keeping the door cracked open a bit so the light from the kitchen can act as a night light. 

God, you're tired. 

You’re quick to shower and slip into your own pajamas, crawling into bed with a yawn. You take the book from your nightstand, flipping through until you find where you left off yesterday. 

You never really know what’s going on in the books you read, they serve a singular purpose and it isn’t entertainment. 

You read until you fall asleep, they’re just a distraction to keep your mind busy with thoughts so he can’t sneak in right before you fall asleep and embed himself in your dreams. 

It works.

Your dreams never feature him. 

They aren’t good dreams by any means, they’re wild. Often of your journey to Jackson, the fear you felt then. But you’ll take that over Joel any day. Tonight isn’t any different, your sleep is restless as you fight the memories of fighting for survival in those woods, but instead of your usual nightmares of infected hunting you through the trees you’re faced with a sight that somehow makes you even more uneasy than the living dead.

The look on Maria’s face when she told you about the two strays. 

support me on kofi!!

a/n : this fic has been bouncing around in my brain for months now and it feels so fucking good to finally start it omfg. sorry if this felt a little slow, i really needed to set a tone and a base for the story, sorry!!

[roronoacherries]

𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝘳𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘢 𝘻𝘰𝘳𝘰

2.258 words

content: fluff, sfw, light angst, fem. reader, established relationship, reader can't look at zoro without a hint of fear in her eyes after he saves her from an enemy.

note: this is a little more straw hat fluff than it is zoro fluff?

you wanted to pretend that it didn’t faze you. 

it shouldn’t have. zoro was gentle and loving and kind-hearted. you knew this well enough. better than anyone, you understood that there was more to the swordsman than his unwavering, tough demeanor. there was no reason for you to feel afraid with him — much less, any reason for you to be afraid of him. 

and yet, lately, you couldn’t quite meet his eyes. you couldn’t help being jumpier around him than you wanted to be. and you found yourself avoiding him without meaning to. 

all he had done was protect you. you would have been dead if he hadn’t stepped in. but rather than thank him, your reaction had been to cower and step into sanji’s arms instead of his. it wasn’t fair to him and you knew it but the image of the swordsman, eyes crimson with rage, was something you couldn’t erase from your mind. the expression on his face had been one that could kill; it was one that made you understand that he would kill. without a second thought, if it meant protecting you. and that had terrified you. 

it shouldn’t have unsettled you like it did. you were pirates for god's sake! you hadn’t exactly expected him to be a saint, nor could you claim to be one. you had no right to be this cold toward him now. he was still the zoro you knew — the one you loved like you didn’t realize you could — you’d simply seen a different side of him; you’d seen a side of him that told you the lengths to which he would go to keep you safe. 

you loved him endlessly… but you needed time before you could meet his eyes without recalling the terror you’d felt then. 

and the swordsman understood. he didn’t blame you for your reaction, but he didn’t know how to mend things either. all he could do was wait for it to pass. all he could do was give you space. that was what he told himself but all he wanted to do was hold you in his arms and make you feel okay. 

the best he could do was keep his distance, though without straying too far. it didn’t matter to him if you saw him as a monster, he’d stay close enough to be there if you needed him, keeping out of your way while still keeping an eye on you. 

and although he conceals it well, it isn’t lost on anyone that zoro’s hurting too. he minds his own, not quite avoiding anyone but not quite present either. not even the cook’s blatant and shameless flirting is enough to provoke a reaction from him; and despite their rivalry, sanji can’t stand to see the swordsman so apathetic. 

none of the crew can, but they know there’s not anything more he can do but be patient with you; as much as they all want to help – to advise zoro and to comfort you – they all know what you need is time.

although it doesn’t keep them from trying. 

chopper takes it upon himself to cure zoro’s ailment the only way he can think to: keeping him company. he bothers the swordsman with a dozen different things, keeping him occupied and trying his best to lighten his mood, but his attempts are fruitless. nothing could quite erase the trace of melancholy in zoro’s expression. 

nami is the only other to try and pull some semblance of genuine emotion from zoro in the way she knows best — picking a fight with him. if there’s anything the navigator is an expert at (besides everything — for a price), it’s chastising the boys. 

“you’re too intense,” she scolded and despite her tone, zoro knew she meant it as comfort. not that knowing made it annoy him any less. she kept talking and zoro let her, not quite listening but not quite ignoring her either. 

“you lose your cool at the drop of a hat sometimes, it’s no wonder y/n is as shaken up as she is. you’ve gotta learn to keep your calm.” nami’s words were nonchalant and her eyes were no longer on the swordsman; she knew well enough that her words would go in one ear and out the other regardless. 

and though zoro knew that he would only be proving her right, that he should bite his tongue and acknowledge that maybe nami was right, he lost his temper anyway, raising his voice at the navigator a little more than he’d intended to. “how the fuck am i meant to stay calm if y/n’s in trouble?”

everyone’s eyes turned to the swordsman but he could care less about what they might think. “i don’t give a shit how she feels,” he spat, knowing as well as everyone else that this was a lie. 

“i’d do the same thing again if i had to, without a second thought.” 

i’d do anything for her. 

“even if it means she never speaks to me again.”

despite chopper’s insistence that he rest, despite the wounds on his body that ached with every move he made, zoro left to work out, though not before warning everyone to leave him alone. and while chopper’s words ring in his head, knowing well that his body needed to rest, he’d rather feel the pain of his injuries than think of you. 

the rest of the crew tried to meddle comfort you however they could. 

luffy tried (and succeeded) to bring a smile to your face with his endless antics, usopp joining in. the two went out of their way to pull a laugh out of you. teasingly, your captain made it a point to remind you of the clueless, disoriented fool roronoa zoro could be through theatrical reenactments of the swordsman’s habits and mannerisms. “how can you be scared of an idiot like that?” luffy giggled. 

he balanced himself on the ship’s railing, crouching as he looked down at you with a contagious grin. you wanted to tell him to be careful, but you knew your words would go ignored. 

“besides. i’d ‘ve done the same thing if i was in his place,” he said, teetering on the railing and it takes everything in you not to shout at him. playfully, he questioned you, “would you really be scared of me too, y/n?”

“i’m scared that you’ll fall. luffy, please get down from there.”

giggling, the captain sways a little more before hopping down and you let out a sigh of relief. and though he doesn’t bother to pull a response out of you, his question still sticks with you. 

sanji had said the same thing as you helped him with the kitchen chores, busying yourself in a helpless attempt to push the swordsman out of your mind. you dried the dishes as sanji washed them, a comfortable silence sitting between the two of you. 

and while sanji knew well that you’d offered to help him because you wanted a distraction, he couldn’t help but question you, his gentle voice breaking the silence. softly, being careful not to make it sound like he thought you were reacting unreasonably, the cook asked, “is there a reason this has you so shaken up, my dear?” 

you dried the last dish without looking up at sanji, who’d turned his back to the sink, a cigarette quick to find its way to his lips. “i don’t know…” you whispered. you were being honest; you’d given that question significant thought already, but you weren’t quite sure why this was bothering you like it was.

“you know…” sanji started, lighting the cigarette between his teeth. “any of us would have done the same thing in his shoes. if that idiot went a little too far, it was because of how much he cares, y/n,” it felt strange to defend the swordsman so forwardly, but it was true. “he’d never forgive himself if something happened to you, especially not if he could do something about it.” 

all you could do was nod, your eyes staring vacantly at the dishes in front of you. sanji held a hand to your shoulder in comfort. “and…pardon my language, sweet y/n, but if that idiot hadn’t done what he did, i’d have kicked his ass.”

“thank you, sanji.” you smiled up at the cook. he returned the smile, whispering one last thing before heading for the door. “if you still can’t keep the mosshead off your mind, at least help yourself to a treat. i made your favorite for dessert tonight if you’d like to sneak a bite…”

no amount of sweets could be enough to make you feel any better (but it was worth the try). it helps, though, that nami and usopp find you wallowing at the kitchen counter and join you. these two admit to understanding perfectly what you felt; they agree that zoro, along with sanji and luffy, could be a monstrous trio when need be. it’s pure insanity and utterly terrifying that they’re as strong as they are, even when you’re not on the receiving end of their fury. 

“but they’re a trio of idiots, too,” nami reasoned. “i know it’s easy to forget when you see them like that, but everything they do is out of loyalty… and love.” 

“she's right,” usopp chimes in. “they’re beastly monsters, but they’re our beastly monsters. it’s like having pet guard dogs. they might bite someone’s hand off but never yours… ‘cept maybe luffy.” 

there’s truth to all of their words; you know this. and it helps. although you don’t forget the fear you felt in that moment, you don’t forget all of the love you feel for that big green-haired idiot either. still, you find yourself skipping dinner to avoid him a little longer — perhaps, more from guilt than any lingering fear. 

you lie in bed instead, your eyes staring at the ceiling as you think over your crewmates’ words and try to make sense of your own ceaseless thinking. you hardly notice the sound of the door until robin’s voice meets your ears.

“the stars are quite beautiful tonight,” she smiles and you know, without her needing to say much else, that this is her way of helping you clear your mind. 

“thank you, robin,” you whisper, as you reach for a thin blanket to take with you on deck. 

and robin is right; the sight of the stars shining above the going merry is enough to take your breath away. their light alone lightens the weight on your shoulders, a reminder that your existence is small and your problems are too. and that doesn’t make them unimportant, but it does make them easier to bear. 

you notice too, though, that robin didn’t send you up here to look at the sky; she wanted you to notice what was under the starlight. his eyes are fixed on the stars above, hands resting behind his head as he laid on the upper deck. 

he notices you without needing to look, catching a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye. you’re frozen where you stand until you see him sit up, turning his back to you, ready to leave and give you your space but the sound of your footsteps stops him. 

he’s not sure why but he shuts his eyes as he hears you approach; a part of him knows it’s to keep himself from getting his hopes up, too afraid to let himself believe that you might let him hold you in his arms again and he might finally be able to get some sleep — not that he’d admit aloud that he can’t quite sleep without you close to him anymore. 

it’s not until he feels your arms wrap around him and your head rest against his back that the swordsmen lets himself exhale. but the sense of relief is short-lived, as he feels something damp his shirt and it pains him to think that you might be crying. 

he struggles to find the right words to say, scared he’ll say the wrong thing and you’ll pull away, but ultimately it’s you who speaks first. “i’m sorry.”

you whisper, your words muffled against his back and he’s certain he must’ve misheard because what could you possibly have to apologize for. 

and it’s then that he knows exactly what to say to you. “shut up.

“what could you possibly have to say sorry for?” his hand searches for yours and as he holds it, he realizes just how deeply he’s missed having you close. “i’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

all you can think to do is hold him tighter, but the swordsman pulls away. he turns to you and when his eyes meet yours, there’s no longer any trace of fear and zoro couldn’t be more grateful for it. 

he lies back on the deck again, this time with you wrapped in his arms. the weight of his arms around you makes you feel safer than anything and there isn’t anywhere else you’d rather be. after all, roronoa zoro would go to any lengths to protect you. resting your head in the crook of his neck, you can’t help but whisper another apology. 

“shut up.” the swordsman repeats, his voice almost a whisper but you can hear the smile tugging at his lips nonetheless. he holds you tighter, burying his nose in your hair and breathing in the scent he missed so much. “let me sleep.”

─────────────────────────────

taglist: @zorobraun @maaarshieee @lyriczhou @tinkywinky27 @dimimyth @gaby-chwan @tk6uro @zoros-4th-sword @idiotlittleme @zoronnoa

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[lavender-romancer]

Burden

Part One Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Five years after leaving Hogwarts, after ruining everything, he was drunk on your doorstep trying to fix what he had broken.

*°*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”°*

He was a burden to everyone in his life, he would be alone forever watching everyone he knew fall in love and live their life. Sebastian was not a good person, he was selfish and longed for deep connections he would never be able to sustain. Ruining the connection he had to you had turned him into someone he hated. He had no real connections anymore, his friendship with Ominis had continued fading regardless of them both working in the Ministry. All Sebastian wanted to do was apologise to everyone he had ever known, to try to minimise the impact of his existence.

The only person to blame for all of his problems was himself, it filled him with such a deep self hatred that he didn't know where to channel. It usually gave him a ridiculous amount of motivation in his work as an Auror because he knew nothing in his formative years would be remembered as heroic by anyone. A selfish, stupid, scared little boy was all he was for so long that escaping it seemed impossible. Could he ever be a good person with no hope for personal gain? Had he ever really done something kind or thoughtful for someone? No one would ever bear witness to the person he could have been because he didn't have the energy to commit to it.

You had seemed to love the scared, selfish boy he was. But Sebastian didn't realise until you were gone because he never thought someone could love this face he was so afraid of. Such kindness and an unnerving support he had never felt before, not knowing how to appreciate it he squandered it all. Losing you killed his heart, or, what was left after Anne forbade him from seeing her. He was so fucking sorry that he had ever met you, for your sake. If he had never used you, under the guise of asking for help, none of it would have happened. He wouldn't have upset you, he wouldn't have made you cry.

From the first moment he met you, every thought contained you, every book echoed your wizarding skill, every case he had as an auror only made him think of how you would react in the situation. But all Sebastian would have done- if they did end up together- was hold you back from your true potential because he could never escape his own selfishness. He knew he would kill for you, but you didn't want that. You didn't need dark magic or tricks to show your devotion to someone like he did. You were just… good, a good person who deserved the world that Sebastian should have given you. He would regret that till he day he died, always looking at you with so much love and care that he never knew how to express. The love was replaced by petty comments, calling you ignorant and acting out when he should have just stopped for a moment. Realised that maybe you could love him too, if he'd stopped for a moment he would know to stand by your side.

His head was a mess of firewhiskey and opium, he lay on the floor of his dark flat silently crying at the life he dreamt of with you. A better man could sweep you off your feet, show you love in ways he didn't understand. Held you close to his chest and tell you just how much he loved you without breaking down. You needed someone stronger than him, someone who wasn't tempted by substances and women. Someone who didn't self-sabotage every relationship and friendship he had ever had. You deserved more than he could ever give you. If you ever saw how fucked up he really was, even now, he didn't know how you'd react. Showing himself bare to the world and to you was too terrifying to consider. He was deep in this pit of despair that he had created, so consumed by his own psyche that letting anyone in was too intimidating to consider.

He didn't know when he had got up and began walking on the pavement towards the flat he knew you used to live in. He didn't know what he was doing, how disheveled he looked or that his tears had made his collar wet. Did you even live there anymore? Did you have a husband or any children? He began to overthink everything he had done in his life up until now. Did you know how much of a mess he was? Did Ominis keep you updated on how alone he really was? Or had you just forgotten about him? Regardless of what his head thought, his legs were taking him to you.

Had he locked his door? He didn't remember, but at this point nothing else seemed to matter like seeing your face and telling you everything. If he had realised how pathetic the whole thing was- as he did the following morning- maybe he wouldn't have gone. But he wasn't sure. In all the years since he had been close with you, he had never had the courage to see you again until the substances mixed in his system gave him a false sense of security.

Imagining you as the same girl who was his first kiss, his only love, the person he had disappointed the most. What if you never knew how he felt? Sebastian didn't think he could have less of a will to live at this moment but he knew that not seeing you might have been the final nail in his coffin. You would make everything alright. In his head, that was the only thing making sense to him. If he saw you, everything would sort itself out.

His dreams and fantasies of holding you, kissing you, loving you had to be real. At least in that moment that was what he thought. Sebastian would think about you for hours, dreaming up scenarios that would never happen. But that didn't matter right now, he was at your doorstep.

He was by no means sober, but the cold air had sobered him up to a point of considering this was a terrible idea. That he would do something irreversible, you would see him break down and not know what to do. As he knocked on your door at almost 12 am, some part of his soul hoped you didn't live here anymore.

But when you opened the door and found a man you never believed you would see again, you didn't know what to do. What to say, how to react, whether you should shut the door or hold him in your arms. What was he doing here? Why now? After all the years of hurt and confusion you wanted the concrete slabs on your doorstep to swallow you whole.

“Y/n, I…” he began, but as he looked into your eyes, so confused and perhaps scared, all he could do was let tears fall from his own. How could he do this to you? How could he ruin your night? “I-I’ll leave now and you won't have to, won't have to see me again.” He stuttered over his words and nearly fell down the steps.

“Sebastian,” you said almost too softly for him to hear and he turned his head, “Come inside.”

Of course you invited him inside, you were too lovely, too caring to realise what a fucking mess he was. The sobering effect was minimised when he stepped into the warmth of your flat, he was ushered into the drawing room where the two of you sat on adjacent chairs in silence. How could this conversation even begin? Neither of you knew what to say to one another, least of all Sebastian who was slowly realising that he shouldn't be there.

“Ominis told me you're a successful Auror now.” You started, convinced that the only way to get you through this conversation was hollow pleasantries.

“Yes,” Sebastian cleared his throat, acutely aware of how wet his cheeks were. “Do you work for the ministry as well?”

“Yes, thank you for asking. In the law department.” You replied curtly, your hands slightly trembling in your lap.

“I-” he paused, considering his words to cut through the anxiousness in his head “I'm sorry, for interrupting your night.”

“It is always nice to see an old friend,” that drove a stake into Sebastian's heart. “Under different circumstances it would perhaps be better.” Your smile was polite.

“I do not want to overstay my welcome, I'm sure you have other things to attend to.” Sebastian could feel tears threatening to fall. He sniffed to try and rid his body of the ache he felt all over.

“Nonsense, stay here for a moment.” You stood up and left the room, Sebastian half expected you to return with your wand and demand he leave but you didn't.

“I knew I would see you again one day,” she returned a few moments later with a small box and a glass of water. “This is some of the memories from hogwarts and I realised I still had some of your things with them.” Sebastian gratefully took the glass of water and drank it quickly. You sat down in the same chair as before and brought out a Slytherin scarf along with a small pin and tried to hand it to him.

“You- do you not want them anymore?” He asked quietly, having no idea what was going on and feeling an urge to run away. His fantasy of your life together was slowly crumbling.

“I thought.” You began to say but stopped, placing the items neatly in your lap as you ran your hand over the fabric that was still soft.

“They were gifts, I don't want you to think you have to give them back.” Sebastian replied, staring at the floor because he knew if he met your gaze he would start crying uncontrollably.

“Do you still have my scarf?” You asked timidly.

“Of course, I wouldn't want to part with it.” Sebastian ran a hand over his extremely loose tie and began to tighten it with great difficulty.

“Let me do it, you always struggled with not looking scruffy at school.” You leant over and began unraveling his tie, tying it up in a much more presentable fashion. Your movements were slow and careful, scared you would spook him like some kind of wild beast.

“Thank you.” Sebastian managed to weakly say, still unable to look you in the eye and choosing to flick his eyes back and forth from his own hands to the scarf you still had on your lap.

After you were done you placed your hands back on the scarf, methodically touching it with the care you had always shown it. There was silence for a while, but you were unable to decipher in your mind whether it was awkward or comfortable. Who was this man in front of you who made your hands shake? Sebastian had been out of your life for so many years that you didn't know how to think around him. Whether you should tell him how often you thought of him, how much you wanted to see his smile and play with his hair as you watched the stars in the Astronomy Tower all over again. His name felt so comfortable coming from her mouth, her lips craved to tell him everything but the ache all over her body told her that it might not be wise. You still had the scarf, your connection to a Sebastian who seemed long gone. Replaced by a man who couldn't reach your gaze or tell you why he was there without letting tears fall.

“I will take my leave now. Leave you alone.” Sebastian said quietly as he stood up.

“Sebastian, please I-” you started.

“I'll only ruin things.” He said even quieter before walking away quicker than you could react. You would never know, you will never know, you should never know how he felt.

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

next- blurry eyes

[pixiekiwi]

Left Behind | Newt

Hiii!! First post after a year and a half of inactivity!! Im finally going to start writing again becuz my bf has inspired me to start sharing my work again!! This is a very old one shot and I barely touched it b4 actually posting it because I need something to get my account bumpin again!! Anyways I hope you enjoy, hopefully I’ll post more soon :)

𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Inspired by Wait by the River, by Lord Huron!

Warnings: Angst, terribly written (written a year ago and just now posting!) also long asf.

Words: 1,634

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

People say time heals. But to you, time was the opposite of what you wanted. The more time passed, the more you missed Newt. The longer you spent apart from him, the more your heart ached, and burned.

He healed you, and without him- time is nothing but an aggravating evil.

Your heart tore in two pieces the day he left the Glade, choosing your brother over Newt. You were scared to leave, all you knew was the Glade. You remember the look of defeat on Newt’s face, how he welled up with tears as you gave him one last goodbye. How tight he held you before he was hurried by Thomas. You wished he never let go, you wished he never left you.

You were afraid, terrified even, but as you watched the love of your life leave the only home you’ve ever known you broke. Shattering like a mirror - splitting your ideals from reality. To follow him, you’d risk your life to do it.

Gally was watching you closely, you knew it. His eyes never left you when the blonde left you behind, he had a firm grip on your shoulder for comfort. You knew it was to also keep you within the Glade.

It was minutes later, your shoulder ripped from Gally’s hold, throwing yourself into the maze. Shouts of protest bubbled from the remaining boys in the Glade. Gally’s shout was the loudest, his own footsteps following behind you.

You weren’t worried about him catching you, as you had always been faster than him. You didn’t know the maze, for fucks sake you were a gardener with Newt, but you had seen the map. Minho was one of your closest friends, he shared everything with you. You had helped Minho study the map with Thomas, so you remembered generally where you were supposed to go.

The hard part was trying to fight the feeling that you were losing control of your own body. Your fingers had grown numb and your eyesight had fallen hazy. The further you ran down the path of the Maze, the less yourself you felt. You felt angry, angry that Newt would truly leave without you, angry with Thomas for cutting your goodbye so short. You couldn’t explain it, but you were angry with the world.

You had lost Gally minutes ago, you didn’t care. You needed to reach the group.

When you reached the Griever Hole you stopped in your tracks, and everything went black.

—

There you were again, you were in a new place, your surroundings electronic and gray. As the hazy feeling in your body faded you saw in front of you were your friends, Newt, Thomas, Minho- but something was wrong. Chuck, on the floor, bleeding.

That’s when you felt it, a flame of pain erupted in your chest. Looking down to your hand you realized you had something in your hand. A gun. You thought.

No, no, no, no-

You looked down to where the pain was in your chest, seeing a large sharp pole sticking what felt like, straight through your heart. You tried to gasp, as time seemed to pick up its pace, two bodies rushed to you. One catching you before you fell to the ground.

The two bodies were Newt and Minho, it seemed as though chaos was erupting around them and you. Light poured into the room, you could only hear Newt’s desperate cries.

“Please (Y/N) stay with me-” salty tears trailed down the blonde's face as he held you closely to his own body. Newts free hand grazed your dirt stained and sweaty face. Your skin was so pale, it made him sick. Minho stood above him, his face filled with fear. He was yelling at someone across the room, his angry words too distant to understand.

The soft touch of Newt’s hands sent you into a flurry of unexplainable emotions. You felt like you couldn’t breathe when he was holding you, although - the spear sticking out of your chest probably had something to do with that.

“I..” you tried your best to gasp out a few words, sorrow coating your tone, “I’m.. I’m so.. So sorry.” Tears welled up in your lashes, you couldn’t see anymore. Your vision was failing.

“(Y/N) please-” Newt’s voice echoed through your once again hazy mind, you could tell he was crying; his voice raspy, “Please don’t leave me, I.. I love you please baby.”

His heart wrenching pleas were the last thing you heard as you faded into nothingness once again.

–

Months passed without Newt, unsure if he was even alive. You and Gally had been saved by Lawrence and his group. Only being picked up moments after Newt had been snatched up by WCKD. It was scary, leaving the only home you’ve ever known, knowing you killed the sweetest boy you’ve ever met, Chuck.

After telling Gally how you weren’t even conscious when it happened; he tried to convince you it was WCKD who was controlling you. And although you knew this was true, you couldn’t help but feel as though it was you the whole time. You remember feeling angry before, but you never wanted to kill anyone.

And now here you were, perched on the large windowsill in Lawrence’s office, gazing out into the Scorch as your brother patrolled the outside of the Last City.

You were close with Lawrence, he grew to be like a father figure over you and Gally. You had confided with him about Newt and your friends in the Glade, and he understood. Lawrence himself lost a lot of friends, especially since he was half cranked-out.

Gally had been a big support system for you as well, he had comforted you through the nights you had cried yourself into exhaustion, missing the one person who made you feel whole.

You missed the warm summer nights in the Glade you spent with Newt, under the starry sky - wrapped up in his arms. He held you so tight, like he never wanted to let go - but he did.

“Y/N,” Lawrence’s raspy voice startled you from your thoughts, looking to the older man you noticed he was holding an orchid gazing at you quizzically, “Where did you go?”

You pulled your legs up to your chest, glancing out the window once more as you hummed in response, “Oh you know, wonderland.” You scoffed slightly at your own words, turning back to Lawrence.

Lawrence chuckled in response, his focus shifting back to the roses he was watering.

You sighed, your head resting on the window pane next to you. Closing your eyes tiredly - before you could pass out you heard commotion in the hallway. You sighed frustratedly, tucking yourself further behind the plants that guarded the windowsill. Maybe it was Gally finally coming back from patrol, you didn’t care though as you really just wanted to get some shut eye.

The door of Lawrence’s office flew open, causing your own eyes to snap open. You were hidden far enough in the window that you couldn’t make out who it was that had barged in so rudley.

“Gally- I’m glad to see you made it back, Jasper told me what happened,” the Crank man hummed his words.

“It was a slaughter,” The gruff voice of your brother seemed to cut through the eerie environment of Lawrence’s office, “there was nothing we could do against those guns.” Your heart sunk, you didn’t want to hear anymore - tuning out Lawrence’s response you played with your hands. Ignoring the aching feeling of sorrow in your chest, more people dead in an already deserted world.

Lawrences sudden sternness of voice caught your attention, causing you to tune into the conversation once more, “Now. Who are these people? Why are they here?”

Gally brought someone to Lawrence?

There was a tense pause of silence, and you held your breath, awaiting the unknown person to speak.

“We need to get into WCKD.”

The familiar voice sent you into a spiral of emotions, your body freezing up and going numb, was it really Thomas? You made a move to stand as Thomas continued speaking - “Gally said you can get us through the walls.” Your heart stopped, it really was him, his voice was more serious than it was back in the Glade, maybe even a bit fearful.

You froze before moving into sight of the others. You were preparing for the worse, what if Newt wasn’t with him? What if… You didn’t even want to think about it - your eyes welled up with tears as you hesitantly moved from behind the wall of plants.

You froze, looking to where the familiar group stood in front of you - each of their eyes now on you. Every expression showed surprise, but you didn’t care about that - your own eyes meeting the one person you missed so dearly. Newt.

You gasped - the tears that threatened to fall earlier now trailing down your face.

The blonde boy lurched forward, his arms around your frame immediately, crushing you with a force you didn’t know he had. His own shoulders seemed to shake - he was crying too.

You broke a sob as your arms wrapped weakly around his waist. You never expected to see him again, you thought he was gone.

“Newt- I’m so sorry,” your sobs broke through his chest as your arms pulled him closer to your body.

He shushed you immediately “No (Y/N), I shouldn’t have ever left you,” his own cries broke his composure- pulling you closer than ever.

Your head shook, apologizing over and over again while Newts lips kissed the top of your head, whispering how much he loved you.

This time, he truly would never leave you behind.

[megxplryxb]

Just thinking about Reader finding out she’s having Steve’s baby and how Steve would be during her pregnancy.

You’ve only been married to Steve for a blissful couple of weeks when you realise you’re expecting a little baby Harrington.

One morning after Steve leaves for work, you rush to the bathroom feeling extremely nauseous and after realising your period is more than a little late, you run to the store to buy a couple of pregnancy tests to put your mind at ease.

It’s impossible you think, you’re completely overreacting. It’s just stress after the wedding and nothing more. You and Steve had always been so careful…well, except for one night. One drunken passionate night on your honeymoon when you just couldn’t wait for him to be inside of you any longer. You hadn’t used a condom and had completely forgotten to get the morning after pill with all your holiday activities keeping you both busy. Fuck, you were so stupid!

Your heart beats out of your chest as you wait for the result of the first test, sitting on the bathroom countertop, nervously biting on your nails as you stare at the watch on your wrist. You prayed it would come back negative, that you’d never even have to tell Steve about your silly worry and things could just go back to normal.

When it’s finally time, you psych yourself up to look at the test., taking a few deeps breaths in and out. A cold sweat pouring from you as your hands begin to shake, picking up the test.

+ Positive. Fuck.

You fall to the floor in tears, trying to catch your breath before beginning to process the result. You’re pregnant and the timing couldn’t be worse.

You and Steve were newlyweds, you’d just moved in to a new apartment of your very own and had so many plans for the future that didn’t include children. Of course you both wanted kids, Steve wanted six for christ sake but not now, not yet. It was too soon.

You’d taken 2 more tests throughout the day, both of which came back positive, confirming that you were indeed expecting. You sat in silence most of the afternoon wondering how you were going to tell Steve. Was he going to be angry at you? Would he still love you? You were terrified to find out because you loved him so much.

By that evening, you were starting to imagine what life would be like with a little baby in it. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would they look like Steve? Would they have his eyes? Would be good parents? Would it be so bad if you kind of wanted this baby?

It was shortly after 8pm when you hear the familiar sound of your Husband’s keys turning in the front door of your apartment. “Hi honey, it’s me. How was your day? It’s freezing outside!” He shivers, removing his coat before walking towards the kitchen to see you sitting at the table.

“Honey, are you ok? What’s the matter?” He questions, bending down to cup your cheeks, wiping the tears from your eyes. He’s concerned now, panic visible on his face as you try to gain your composure.

“Stevie, I have to tell you something but I’m so afraid you’re going to be mad and I just need you to know that I’m sorry and that I didn’t plan on this happening right now.” You cry hysterically as he wraps his arms tightly around you, he can feel your body shaking, the tears soaking his t-shirt. He’s completely terrified. Were you sick? Did you not love him anymore? Did you regret marrying him?Was there someone else? Were you going to leave him?

“Honey, please just tell me what’s going on? You’re starting to scare me.” He trembles as you take a deep breath before blurting out. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re…. You’re what?” He asks, eyes widened in shock as he tried to process your statement.

“I’m preg- we’re pregnant.” You mumble again as he stands back up, a hand over his mouth as he remains silent. You can’t read his expression.

“When you left for work this morning, I started to feel really sick, I puked a couple of times and I thought maybe it was that take out we got last night, you know? But then it dawned on me that my period was late, like really late and I didn’t think it was possible at first, I mean we’ve always been so careful to use condoms and I was going to go on birth control one I got my next period but then I remembered that night on our honeymoon when we didn’t use one and we forgot to go to the pharmacy the next day, so I went to the store today and got a bunch of tests and…they all came back positive.” You say, taking the tests from your bag and placing them on the table for Steve to see for himself. “I’m so sorry Stevie, I honestly didn’t mean for this to happen. I know we had so many plans for the future and this is happening so much sooner than we wanted it to but…”

You were so busy rambling, afraid of his response that you didn’t even notice the smile on Steve’s face, the tears in his eyes as he finally picked up one of the pregnancy tests to inspect it further.

“We’re really having a baby? I’m going to be a Dad?” He asks, staring at you, his wife, with utter adoration as he walks closer towards you.

“Yeah Stevie, we’re really going to have a baby.” You cry as he places a loving kiss to your lips, once again wrapping himself around you, rubbing your stomach gently. “I love you Mrs Harrington, we’re going to be the best parents.”

When you finally tell people, the kids all fight over who gets to be the baby’s godparents but you and Steve have already chosen Robin and Eddie, telling the others they’ll be awesome aunts and uncles either way.

Even Steve’s parents are excited, spending more time in Hawkins to help you both get ready for the baby and it makes you happy to see them finally making an effort for their son.

Steve is the best Husband and birthing partner, attending all the classes and appointments with you, reading all the baby books to know as much as possible before the baby arrives. Making sure you take your vitamins etc.

He tears up upon seeing your baby for the first time at the Ultrasound appointment. Showing EVERYBODY the pictures when you get home from the hospital.

Steve quickly got to work on building the nursery, getting annoyed when you insist on helping him paint the room. “Baby, I don’t want you straining yourself.” “I’m pregnant, not dying Steve.” You’d joke. “Just let me feel useful for a while, please?” You begged and he sighed, knowing he could never say no to you. “Alright, fifteen minutes, then I’m running you a bath.” He said kissing your forehead before handing you a paintbrush.

You decided not to find out the baby’s gender, wanting to keep the surprise for when you gave birth but Steve was convinced it was a girl, often referring to the baby as she/her when talking. “There’s my two girls.”

You and Steve’s weekends are spent buying stuff for the baby, high chairs, strollers, diapers etc. You’re both working extra hours to save as much money as possible, but as the pregnancy progresses, Steve takes on more work so you can rest up at home.

As your tummy grows, Steve can see you’re getting a little self conscious in your clothes. Outfits that fit in the past are no longer comfortable and it makes you sad.

He gives Nancy a couple of hundred dollars to take you for lunch and to shop for maternity clothes, making sure she gets you whatever you want.

He constantly reminds you how beautiful you are, showing you he’s not afraid to have sex with his pregnant wife. He just wants to make you feel good.

Every morning he wakes up, he kisses your lips and then your tummy. “Good morning baby, and my other baby.” He does the same when he gets home from work and every night before bed.

The first time the baby kicks, you’re both lying on the couch watching Jaws, Steve talking over the movie as usual. He drops the bowl of popcorn when he feels you jolt beside him. “Honey what’s wrong? Are you ok? Is it the baby?” He panics, jumping from his seat but you’re quick to pull him back down and place his large hand on your stomach. “The baby, it’s kicking. Woah!” You say, starting to laugh at the feeling of your tiny human growing inside you. “I.. I feel her! Oh my god, she’s kicking hard huh?” He smiles, holding your other hand in his. “I think they like your voice baby.” You say as Steve looks at you in surprise. “You think?” “Uh, huh. They kicked when you started speaking, didn’t you peanut?” You giggle rubbing your belly.

Steve comes home from work the next night with a box of children’s books and he’s so excited getting in to bed to read the bedtime story to your swollen bump. “Stevie, what are you doing?” You giggle as he begins to read.

“Well, you said the baby likes my voice and I want her to recognise that I’m her Dad when you give birth, so Phil from work let me borrow a couple of his kids books so I can read to her. Plus I want her to be smart, not like her old man.” “Steve, you’re not an old man and you are smart.” You smile, putting a gentle hand through his hair, getting cosy in bed as he opens the first book to read to your tummy.

You were almost a week overdue when you decided you finally had enough of being pregnant. You’d gone on multiple walks, ate all the spicy food you could possibly eat and tried every position possible while having sex with Steve. Nothing was working, this baby was as stubborn as you were.

When your water finally breaks, Steve is super calm and you can’t believe he’s handling things so well. He’s had your hospital bag at the front door for several weeks now, car full of gas and newly serviced. He was getting you to the hospital without any issues. “We’re almost there baby.” He says holding your hand as you try to breathe through the pain. “Stevie, I’m scared.” You cry as he chuckles, trying to make you feel better. “Sweetheart, you fought monsters from another dimension for four years without showing any fear but you’re scared of delivering our little girl? This is gonna be a piece of cake to you baby and I’m right here, all the way.” He assured you, kissing your knuckles.

Eddie and Robin wait in the waiting room, Steve having called them once he got you safely to the hospital, knowing you’d want them there to look after Steve if he needed anything. Eddie was beyond excited while Robin paced the halls in a nervous wreck.

Steve was great, he was rubbing your back and shoulders, getting you ice chips, keeping your facecloth cold to press to your forehead and then a few hours later, it was finally tome to push.

This was hell, you were in so much pain, your body was screaming for a break but you knew you couldn’t rest until the baby was out. You wanted to choke Steve for getting you pregnant, telling him he was never allowed to touch you again, that you were only having one baby and that was it.

“Honey, you’re doing so good. Just a couple of more pushes sweetheart, she’s almost here!” Steve whispers in your ear, refusing to leave your side.

That’s easy for you to say! You’re not pushing a football out of your vagina Steve Harrington!” You yell as he tried to hold back a laugh. “Don’t you dare laugh right now!” You warn, squeezing his hand as you feel another contraction.

“I can see the head!” The Doctor cries as you close your eyes, wanting this to be over.

“Come on honey, you’ve got this. It’s time to meet our daughter.” Steve encourages, as you find the strength to push again, feeling the pressure on the bottom half of your body. Suddenly the head is out, then the shoulders and after a few more pushes, you hear the little cries of your newborn baby, before the Doctor hands the tiny bundle to you.

“You did so good honey, you are amazing.” Steve kisses your lips as you begin to cry from happiness, relief and exhaustion.

“Congratulations to the both of you. You have a beautiful healthy baby boy.” The Doctor says as you smile at Steve, cuddling your son.

“She’s a boy? We have a boy?” He cries, holding his little family in his arms as he sits on the edge of you bed, overwhelmed by how happy he is in this very moment.

“I told you we were having a boy. Are you upset?” You frown as he shakes his head. “No! Of course not, look at him, how could anyone be upset when he’s so perfect?” Steve smiles as you move a little to hand him his son. “Take him, I think he wants to say hi to the guy that reads to him every night.” You tease, carefully slotting him into Steve’s arms as he looks down at his son in complete and utter awe. His heart completely melts when his son grabs his pinky finger, holding it tightly as you smile at your two boys.

“Hey little man, welcome to the world, I’m your Dad, and that beautiful woman over there? She’s your awesome Mom. We’re your parents and we already love you so much.” Steve mumbles as tears fill his eyes.

“You know we’re going to have to think of some new names now right?” You joke as Steve nods his head, wiping away his tears. “Oh yeah, somehow I don’t think he’s gonna like the name Phoebe.”

[pierrotsmoon]

Dorm leaders with a s/o who loves horror movies 

(and other creepy media)

Jumping back into it! Might be a little rusty :)

Warnings- horror movie discussion, slight fem implication but not really, fluff, cheesiness, a lil OOC but nothing extreme, author is so tired rn just pretend we can show them media from our world for my sake plz

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is a little afraid of horror movies

His mother had never allowed him to watch anything over pg-13, so he’s really unaware of the wonders of horror media

You probably start him off with scarier kids movies, like Coraline

He’s really freaked out by the opening scene

(Probably deeply relates the other mother to his own)

If you get him into more objectively terrifying movies, like (one of my favs) Texas Chainsaw Massacre, he’ll try to distract himself by holding on to you, and talking about the camerawork, the artistic value and all that

He will sit with you on the couch, hands covering his eyes, peeking out slightly

Doesn’t love overt guts and all that, but probably enjoys the more subtle, unnerving horror, that’s what really freaks him out

Considers you to be extremely brave, probably brags to the other dorm leaders about you

“I’m not afraid! This is just distasteful!”

Leona Kingscholar

He also probably enjoys horror movies, but when he watches them with you, he feels the need to prove himself a little

Loves cheesy slasher flicks, especially if you both sit there and make fun of them together

Adores watching B horror movies with you, the worse the movie, the more fun you both have

Hates the tropes involving women in those types of films, thinks its super disrespectful to assume girls are stupid enough to just open the door for the killer

*Cue eye roll*

One of those people who either falls asleep mid movie, or talks through it with you, either way it's pretty fun

Adores the more old school horror, like 1931’s Dracula and creepy comedy, like The Addams Family

People tend to characterize him as a lazy brute, but he’s also a royal, so he probably grew up appreciating some art and vintage media, so I think he’d appreciate black and white movies

(he’d rather die than admit it, but he definitely feels all mushy inside watching the Addams Family)

He also probably gets mildly disturbed during build up scenes, jumpscares and all that, but it’s usually just because of his heightened beastman senses

“Of course it didn’t jump, stop being ridiculous.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Hes terrified, I’ll just leave that there

Jkjk I could never leave out my favorite fishman

He’s horrified during practically any part of the movie, but especially during the big finale scene (think Scream) 

However big is fear is, his need to prove himself as a big strong manly man is even bigger, so he’ll act like he’s not scared at all

He;s really bad at it tho, so expect to literally have him on your lap by the credits

He definitely sticks to the less scary movies, like The Boy which just sort of unnerved him more than anything

If you’re like, a super horror buff, he’ll stick around as best as he can

He wants to encourage your interests!

Pro tip: invite the twins to come around for a big movie night, they’ll be cracking jokes throughout while Azul looks like he’s about to combust

“Jade! Floyd! Stop laughing or I’ll cut your salary!” 

Kalim Al-Asim

You'd think he’s gonna be scared don’t you?

This man fears nothing on a screen, literally 

Honestly he probably is a bigger fan of analogue horror than anything

Loves Mandela Catalogue 

He enjoys the fresh, new format that it provides, probably because of how easily bored he gets

Literally sits through everything with a calm-to-happy expression

Every time a new flick catches your attention, he’ll get tickets

If you’re a buff who gets scared easily (Me too!) he’ll be sure to tease you about it

Lots of hugs during movies

Another one who jokes about cheesy jumpscares, somehow never even the slightest bit startled

“What's so scary? You wanna see something terrifying, look at Jamil when he realizes I’m throwing another banquet!” 

Vil Shoenheit

Tbh he’s probably acted in horror movies

As the aforementioned horror

Thinks a lot of them are distasteful

Probably because he’s scared (jk)

Has his arm around your shoulder during the whole movie, its for his sake, but you're not complaining

Loveloveloves discussing the practical effects and prosthetics with you

Unrealistic fake blood bores him severely 

Another fan of cheap B horror movies, just for the makeup

You’ve never heard him laugh harder then during some sloppy CGI scene

Literally tears in his eyes

“T-the Hair- oh my Goddess Liebling, look at his HAIR!”

Idia Shroud

 Horror?

He’s in heaven!

Idia is a BIG fan of horror media, primarily horror manga and anime

If you want to win him over for life, introduce him to the work of Junji Ito 

His favorite Junji Ito manga is his rendition of Frankenstein

Deeply personal, also he’s mildly terrified of the hubris of man

The both of you sit in your own little blanket cocoons (unless you wanna share one…) and watch horror movies in his room

Deeply analyzes horror movies with psychological aspects, it's one of his favorite things to do!

 If it's a little late at night, you’ll notice his eyes flit around the room, just keeping watch

Slasher flicks are some of his fav non-anime horror, the tropes keep him excited

“I knew it! I-I mean it was easy enough to figure out, if you check out the context clues and-”

Malleus Draconia

Hm?

He’s extremely inexperienced when it comes to modern media, and horror is completely foreign to him

Malleus probably asked why humans like scaring themselves so much, it seems silly to him

He is open to the idea of watching these films with you, as long as you are happy, he is

Probably enjoys horror comedies most of all, the morbid humor is enjoyable to him

Watching horror movies with Malleus will always include big bowls of ice cream, warm pajamas, and plenty of questions

Lover of horror movies that discuss more mundane human life, because it is so foreign to him

Like Black Christmas 1974

He thinks you are a confusing little human, for enjoying looking at things that terrify and mortify yourself and others

And he wouldn’t want you any other way

“Child of man, what is so horrifying about this movie exactly?”

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

Thank you for reading! This is a new acc, but i'll probs repost this on Ao3, also, Vil with German nicknames is so

[dirtytransmasc]

u got any hc’s for miles for earth 42 and miles from 1610 interactions? they’re besties to me fr fr

(first few are sorta theories for btsv, the rest are general hc's for their dynamic. these got kinda angsty, oops)

they definitely fight a few times before realizing they can be on the same side of things, Miles 42 being more the aggressor, but Miles 1610 wants to get even each time, cause he's a teenage boy, sue him. its in their moments of weakness that they start to see that they don't have to be enemies. they're also fair fighters, to some point, and fight generally clean, which definalty plays into their bond later on. there was always some level of mutual trust and respect.

its when they reluctantly team up and they get beaten to absolute pulps, and are forced to see each other as not only equals, but kids, both forced into lives they didn't want, or at least positions, they didn't want, that they start to bond.

its the act of picking each other up and dusting each other off that the bond cements, when Miles 1610 sees the kid in Miles 42, the kid that's tired and scared and not entirely there after living life hidden away in the back of his head that makes him extend his trust and his friendship. for Miles 42, its seeing Miles 1610 be so kind and good and trusting and strong, despite being a kid and being scared and tired and hurting, that makes him want to accept Miles' offer of friendship, and in a way, safety.

once they're friends, they're the definition of terror twins, like, generally they're sweethearts when not in combat, but they are capable of so much mischief, oml. and in combat, together, they're down right terrifying.

I totally think they would see each other like twins too, so they have such a brotherly dynamic in my mind. both are technically only children, so at first they're just kinda in this blissful awe of how nice it feels to not be alone in the world, to know they always have a shoulder to lean on, someone to protect them.

definitely both physically affectionate, and both of them have that AuDHD in them, so they spend a lot of their free time justlying in a pile somewhere.

Miles 42 does Miles 1610's hair and helps him with Spanish, in return Miles 1610 helps Miles 42 reconnect with his artistic side that had been buried while he was the prowler.

Miles 1610 sneaks him into HQ all the time, to the point that Miguel just gives the kid his own watch for the sake of his sanity.

it takes a while for Miles 42 to be down with intimacy of any kind, even just stuff like small talk and brushing shoulders, cause he feels like any attempts at connection from anyone is just them looking for a weak spot to use against him. Miles 1610 definitely helped him feel safe by just blabbering on and on about just about anything, making it abundantly clear that he trusted him (42) to keep his 'secrets' safe, and therefore he could trust Miles 1610 to do the same. once he's ok with small talk, they start tackling physical touch, slowly but surely. Miles 1610 is always supportive of him, always trying to understand better so he can be helpful, trying to make his 'twin' feel safe.

Miles 1610 forces Miles 42 to join his friend group, like he is so insistent that Miles 42 just caves. he doesn't regret it.

Miles 1610 is the more emotional protector, making sure Miles 42 feels safe and secure in a give situation and helping him get away and ground when he doesn't. Miles 42 is a physical protector, and he will end anyone who harms a hair on Miles 1610's head.

very competitive, in everything, absolutely everything.

steal from each other all the time, and almost never return the items.

Miles 1610 will indulge in childish things as if they're the norm for kids his age, so that way Miles 42 doesn't feel so ashamed of reliving the parts of childhood he lost.

they're both afraid of thunder and will huddle up under the covers during a storm. (once Miles 1610 has kindled a bond between his mom and especially his dad and Miles 42, they totally climb into their parent's bed, cause they're just big little kids and they want their parents when the thunder starts shaking the house ok? leave them be)

vigilante Miles 42, who tries to be someone Miles 1610 would be proud of, even in his fucked up dimension and with his already fucked up reputation.

they kinda forget they're basically the same person, so they're all ways surprised when the other likes the same thing or has the same habit, etc.

1610; orange cat. 42; black cat. vibes; amazing

it should be so obvious, but they do the good old twin switch every once and a while, sometimes just for shits and giggles to see how long it takes others to notice.

they guilt trip people when they take too long to notice. they don't actually care, they just think its funny.

they make each other more confident. Miles 1610 is less of a people pleaser and does more for himself. Miles 42 feels secure in being selfless and nice and having his own feelings on things.

for some reason, Miles 42 is really good with babies, and Miles 1610 is subpar at best (he's better with little kids, not babies) and they always babysit mayday together.

they're with each other more often than not. especially after migeul just gives up on trying to keep him off of missions, cause it takes more time and effort to do so, especially when he ultimately fails every time.

Miles 42 blackmailed Miguel into apologizing to Miles 1610, while he was already in the process of apologizing... he just wasn't doing enough in Miles's mind, he needed a little push, a little reminder of what would happen to him if he chickened out.

thats all I've got for now, hope you enjoy my brain worms.

[unavoidedbyme]

When the READER becomes the witness instead of BASIL

this happens when SUNNY pushes MARI down the stairs, but instead of BASIL

it was YOU who became their witness. What would YOU do?

doing the same thing as BASIL does? or the other way around like a normal person does.

who knows, it might save SUNNY’s sister from the inevitable fate she has.

tw(s): death, frame of su1c1d3

The recital was today, yet SUNNY felt tired. He was tired from all of these practices. His finger aches from the countless practices, even some of it starts to bleed eventually. But why? why is his sister shouting at him when he already tried his best? MARI’s figure could be seen through SUNNY’s eyes. Face that was once full of adoration suddenly fade away in an instant once the girl sees her brother’s violin scattered across the ground. Her white dress flows from the movement of her own, while the boy was trying to keep his composure—MARI suddenly grab his hands.

“Where do you think you’re goi—“

it all happened so quickly—SUNNY; who was scared suddenly pushed her away. Afraid of what she’s going to do with him. But it doesn’t matter now, MARI’s voice was cut short and replaced by a shocked but also terrified expression. Her hands who was trying to grab onto the railings has no use, she has completely missed it and was now falling for what feels like endlessly onto the floor. The back of her head hits hard on the ground and some of her hair even got stuck into the violin’s strings.

SUNNY was PETRIFIED. He’s unable to process the thing that has just happened, it all went too fast for him. Too fast for him to save his sister. His terrified face looking everywhere except from the figure laying down below, until he spot a familiar figure just across the room. It was his bestfriend, his light, the helper who had helped him thousands of times after his sister, and that bestfriend was YOU.

YOU saw what he has done. YOU saw everything. You were just trying to check on the siblings before their recital, thinking that everything was fine—YOU walked into their house without a care in the world, only to find MARI’s voice shouting at something, or someone. Her voice was so full of emotions but mostly on the bad emotions, she was clearly upset but to who? once YOU take a closer look it was your bestfriend who she was shouting at. It was a new sight for YOU, for both YOU and SUNNY.

MARI wasn’t the type to go all shouts and that crazy stuff, unless she got REALLY upset. Which is why she was shouting at her brother in the first place. YOU were confused and mostly scared at the same time, looking down to the ground only to find SUNNY’s violin scattered and broken on the floor. Now YOU understand why she was so angry at him, the violin was a gift from them. It was so expensive that you all need to spend all of your money together to buy him the violin. But that doesn’t justify the reason why MARI was saying those hurtful things to him, he is her brother for god sake! those things weren’t necessary.

and then you saw it. The moment YOU blinked your eyes she was already lying on the floor. Her beautiful black hair got tangled with the violin’s strings, YOU looked at SUNNY who was unable to move; his eyes focusing on YOU. His bestfriend, surely YOU knew on how to handle these things..right?

IF YOU CHOOSE TO HUNG HER

SUNNY’s footsteps could be heard, dashing towards his sister’s figure with teary eyes. How sad they were, his eyes full of regrets and misery looking at his half-dead sister. But now those eyes were looking at YOU, expecting for a solution like how YOU always did in a tense situation such as this.

“P-please… [name], help me.”

your head couldn’t process anything, all you see was just static. Sweats started to form on the back of your head, your body felt so weak at sight of SUNNY holding MARI for dear life. All you could think is that if you tell your friends the truth they’re all gonna hate you. They’re all gonna hate HIM, your bestfriend.

you..you couldn’t let them hurt him. No, all of this could be prevented.. by framing her death. Yes, this is a perfect solution for this situation. Nobody from the group would expect that SUNNY—no SOMETHING behind SUNNY killed MARI. They would think that this is all her doing. They wouldn’t hate YOU nor SUNNY, it wasn’t SUNNY’s fault so why would they hate him?

“SUNNY… i know how to clean all of this mess.”

you started to look around like a madman looking for something that would hung her. And then you saw it, the jumping rope that you all had played before. Swallowing up your gut you quickly took the rope and look at SUNNY with serious eyes. He was taken aback, ofcourse he was but since it was his bestfriend he wouldn’t dare to go against their words.

You begin to tie the knots, while SUNNY was hiding his violin inside the toy box, locking it away so it could never be found. Once you finally finished tie-ing the knots you begin to put it around MARI’s neck feeling dread spreading over your body once you saw her face. Her face was really pale, you couldn’t even look at her properly and until then the two of you left her, leaving her behind all by herself on that tree..

IF YOU CHOOSE TO CALL THE AMBULANCE

It all happened so fast, SUNNY’s footsteps could be heard and it was coming closer and closer towards YOU. You didn’t care for anything at this moment, all you need to do is grab the telephone right on the left of this room and call 911.

YOU could feel SUNNY’s body press against yours as he was holding onto YOU for his dear life, begging to not tell anyone about this. YOU saw the desperation from his eyes but you couldn’t care less, all you have to do right now is save MARI and call the ambulance.

You rushed to the left side of the room and begin to contact 911–SUNNY following up behind you while looking terrified at MARI. Once the 911 pick the call out your voice was trembling while you started to explain things to them, the ambulance already on their way to save MARI. They want you to not hang up from them, while you were still holding the telephone you could hear sirens from outside this house.

The staffs began to take MARI’s body inside the ambulance, and then it sets off to a nearby hospital outside FARAWAY TOWN. Your friends saw the commotion outside SUNNY’s house and once the ambulance left they’re all frantically begin to run to his house. Only to find YOU comforting and hugging SUNNY close to your chest, YOU look at the group—look of despair could be seen from your face.

“It was an accident…i’ve seen it all. We’re sorry.”

HERO couldn’t hold back his tears, AUBREY and KEL instantly dash towards the two of you; hugging YOU and SUNNY in an effort to calm down the two witnesses. BASIL was just comforting HERO while HERO’s body felt like he was about to pass out.

a/n: woohoo i finished this! also what do you think about making a part two about the aftermath of this? i think i have the perfect thing for it.

[volostogekiss]

What will it take to fluster this man? To turn him into a blushing, stuttering mess??

Because I want to see him like that, for once.

not a lot gets this man flustered, but if you’re confident and go for it and get Volo before he gets you, you can BET that he’ll be blushing. surprise him, forget about being opportunistic—you MAKE that opportunity appear yourself—and Volo will be a mess for a moment. but watch out, this man recovers fast, and before you know it, he’ll be trying to make you flustered even more than he was!

(i’ve been having some volo thoughts bouncing around so, take this one-shot as a result of them :3c)

darling, if you turn to me, i won’t let you look away. (one-shot)

GN!reader. A little bit of spicy talk.. Reader is not the player, Akari/Rei. Reader’s a Poké Ball inventor and was originally from another region, so bold and italics = speaking in its native language. “Pretty boy” is used as a term of endearment—I promise! :') Summary: You decide that you like Volo quite a bit. You want to see him blush, so you take it upon yourself to make it happen. And maybe, just maybe, something else might happen too.

No one bothers with the stranger huddled up past Ginkgo Landing, at the foot of Windbreak Stand.

It was a remark often exchanged among visitors of the Cobalt Coastlands. The stranger was an outlier; they didn’t make any sense. They claimed allegiance to neither clan of the realm, despite supposedly hailing from the same ancestors who had set foot upon Hisui all those years ago. They could be considered an outsider, but people had chosen to regard them with a less disdainful term—a hermit—for the sake of their own consciences. Although, there were also rumors that such an enigma was somehow friends with the few inhabitants of the area—Palina, a Pearl Clan Warden who those whispered of in shame, and Iscan, a Diamond Clan Warden too timid to stand his ground. Appropriately fitting relationships, they would also murmur, then keep their distance.

Volo could laugh at all that.

And he had.

While most people branded you as an eccentric—even though you had done nothing to deserve such a title—Volo knew you better than them.

You were a brilliant inventor, and Volo concluded he was probably one of the only people to see you as so.

You were just more driven than most others, dauntless in comparison, and willing to follow your interests with a dedication uncommon for the average Hisuian. (…Volo could admit that he saw a bit of himself in you.) The others were merely afraid, as they always were, always would be.

Then, it was just you were better than them, and Volo had known so from the moment he’d met you.

He’d heard of the eccentric in the Cobalt Coastlands who was too often poring over some new project with Apricorns and Poké Balls, and that had already been enough to stir his curiosity. It had been said that you were attempting to develop a variety of Poké Balls to learn more about the creatures which dwelled alongside humans. And if you could hold them close and open your heart to them, then perhaps, there really was nothing to be so scared of. Your approach was different than that of the Survey Corps, but you were in no way less passionate about your cause. Nothing seemed particularly awful about your reasoning or your demeanor, but Volo knew that what people didn’t understand would frighten them.

Though that was of less significance to him than what he had heard most often of you: You were assembling a Poké Ball which could capture any Pokémon, regardless of its strength, for even the most terrifying did not deter you from your goals.

That had piqued his interest. He had to know if that was true. He had to.

After all, he would need a vessel to contain the mighty Arceus.

So he’d taken his time in finding out more about you.

Volo had learned much, and the more he discovered about you, the more he couldn’t deny that he wasn’t only fascinated with your inventions.

There were the simpler things—those that at first he didn’t believe were of much importance, but those that he eventually couldn’t forget.

A shiny Duskull often paraded after you cheerfully; she delighted in being by your side, with how you doted on her. She and a surprisingly docile Drapion were your only companions you’d caught, but a plethora of wild Pokémon enjoyed being around you, was what Volo had come to learn. On clear days, Growlithe and Vulpix picked their way down the bluffs to curl up beneath the grove of trees surrounding your abode. The Starly loved to stop by too, not only for the gifts of berries you left out for them, but to return the favor in contributing to your very necessary supply of Apricorns. Even the Gyarados sometimes drifted closer to shore to say hello when you strolled along the beach.

And, damn, if Volo didn’t like doing so as well…

He wouldn’t have been seeing you for all this time, as he had been.

Then, there were other things he’d found out about you too, about your person, who you were, and he couldn’t help how he’d kept each of those details close, even if hadn’t expected to.

Volo had approached you with good intentions (really, he had!) to barter for your creations and learn more of your craft. It wasn’t hard for you to see that he was genuinely curious about the types of Poké Balls you were fabricating, though you noted he seemed almost too spellbound by the concept of one that could capture any Pokémon. Perhaps you should’ve been wearier of him, but…

…but you were lonely. You didn’t really think about it regularly; you were happy by yourself and your work. Part of the reason that you had chosen solitude was so that you could properly engage your projects without any distractions. Though, on rare occasions, even though you told yourself you were content here, life was at times difficult alone, and even with all the Pokémon around you, it was hard to forget that you were only human.

And Volo… Volo was decent company. Of course, the two Wardens would drop by at times, but Volo visited more frequently, and you could never think him the same as them. He had a lively personality that you found brightening your home, and you liked to see it bloom when he regaled you with his escapades into the ruins. It was an exchange of interests you often delved into, a sort of implicit deal brokered between you two when solace was found in sharing what you were constructing next, and he what he’d stumbled across at the ancient sites. You never bothered to venture far from your home yourself, at any rate, and quickly, you learned that Volo favored exploration of the old and ancient more than actually doing his job.

“Hm, so you put your guild work aside so you can visit someone that everyone tries to avoid,” you had poked at him jokingly, a full smile on your face. “I think that’s flattering.”

Setting down his cup of tea, Volo propped his chin up on his palm, the slightest of pouts on his lips. “Do you mean to say that I was the only one thinking you were already a part of my regular route?”

“Of course not! I love being the most important stop on your route.”

“As you are. It matters not if others don’t see it the same way that I do.”

“Oh, you know just what to say to me, don’t you?”

You laughed, and Volo smiled. He couldn’t help it.

Out of everyone else he’d met in Hisui, you were someone special, in more ways than one.

Though, he supposed it hadn’t happened all at once, how he’d come to view you. Upon his initial arrival, you had been justifiably suspicious of him; usually only Iscan or Palina visited you, and if your guest was someone you didn’t know… your interactions typically weren’t very agreeable. But Volo liked to think that his sunnier temperament, and his position within the Ginkgo Guild had helped lower your defenses, a little at a time.

(Had he realized that maybe you had even done the same to him?)

You were intelligent, with a wit and humor you didn’t hesitate to employ at any convenient opportunity. Funny, kind, and generous enough to allow him space in your home, you were not what the people of Hisui made you out to be. You didn’t care at all of what they thought, and you never had. You were simply confident and unafraid, and without any doubts at all, Volo found himself drawn to you.

Eventually, with a similar revelation, you also found that he was more than decent. You had thought him like all the rest at first, but when he had come to you without insults or skepticism, you had given yourself no choice but to allow him in. Surprising to even yourself that you had, for not much could take you away from your work, but the more you got to know Volo, the easier that seemed to be, for him. After all, he was an alluring man, with plenty of heart and a spirited attitude. You were unashamed to admit that he was illustriously handsome too, and you liked to admire him far too frequently.

Inevitably, you appreciated when Volo showed up at your door. It was hard for you to ignore how much you looked forward to your quaint chats, even if you usually never heard him approach, with how immersed you were in your work.

Oh, but how he loved to see you work, too. There was a beautiful precision with which you examined your creations, with which you defined each cut to metal and glass and wood. No detail was missed under your meticulous scrutiny. There was no apathy, no wastefulness in your movements, and Volo thought that he could watch you for hours as you gave your inventions life.

If he was lucky, too, you asked him if he could test some of your prototype Poké Balls out on your behalf. They were ingenious—one you had developed to function more successfully at night and another to completely heal the Pokémon caught inside. Regardless of whatever you handed him though, Volo was always willing to assist, the thought of your most treasured design yet at the back of his mind, even if you had no idea.

You couldn’t fault him for his enthusiasm, no matter how veiled he kept it in front of you.

Maybe you even liked seeing it a bit too much.

Perhaps then it also wasn’t very shocking that over the months you had known one another, your relationship had become deeper, a blossoming friendship—but that wasn’t all, was it?—you never would’ve fathomed as possible at the start.

Although Volo visited you under the pretense of delivering you supplies that weren’t readily available along the coast, he gradually began to find other responsibilities to busy himself with at your home. You welcomed it, for you had always managed everything by yourself before, and having someone else to help was a privilege you had thought was long gone.

Some days, he went out to chop firewood with his Garchomp and Lucario for you; on others, he sought out stardust in ore deposits that you would use in both sanding and transforming into glass, for the interior of your creations. Volo also seemed to enjoy helping you with more domestic matters (despite his inability to really cook much, it was still considerate, and truthfully quite charming of him), and even on days when you tackled your seasonal house cleaning. It was surprising to you that he bothered so much, but you weren’t complaining; in fact, one too many of your daydreams might’ve included Volo at your side like this, or even more.

But you were glad when you didn’t have to dream, and he really was with you.

From your place beside the clothesline, you glanced over to where he’d disappeared back into your home, a small smile winding onto your lips. You had never before thought you could enjoy your chores so much, especially not on your heavy laundry days, when you were forced to haul out your bedding for its regular washing.

Well, this time, you had someone else to help with that.

Tucking your bedroll against his waist, Volo slid your backdoor closed with a snap. “And here you are! The last of your bedding.”

You smiled at him from around the wet sheet you had just flung over the clothesline.

Even doing the most ordinary of tasks was something new, with him.

“Thank you.” After smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric, you hopped over the washbasin beside you, intending to help him. “I can carry the other end.”

Volo shook his head, set your bedroll on the wooden porch, and stepped down onto the grass below. “Oh, there’s no need! I’ll be over to you just shortly.”

You advanced toward him anyway, a grin on your face. “Well, I’m already here, so why don’t we take a break together first?”

As he raised an eyebrow, Volo looked to you with a chuckle. “I won’t say no to that, but I will say I’m surprised to hear you suggesting a break. Is it because we happen to not be doing anything related to your work?”

“Hmph.” With crossed arms, you settled your back against the walkway and nudged him playfully. “I can take a break… sometimes.”

Tipping his chin back with a laugh, Volo rested both elbows on the porch behind him while he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “I do like seeing how focused you are on your work, however. Your concentration is impeccable.”

“Oh, thank you, but that certainly isn’t the case,” you snorted, trying not to peer at him, while he shifted to face you completely. “There are things that distract me.”

You weren’t looking at him, but you heard him hum, as if mulling over your statement.

If only he knew how much I think of him, and what exactly I think of him. You nearly laughed aloud, but you kept your mouth shut tight as you stared out toward the cyan ocean, crisp and glittering with early afternoon sunlight.

“You’re much too humble,” insisted Volo, and if he was teasing you, you couldn’t tell. He didn’t seem to believe you, but you weren’t going to pass up this perfect chance he was providing you.

“Really, no.” A wicked smirk curved across your face, and slowly, you turned toward him, as your voice took on a particular edge. “There are things that break my focus, for sure.”

When you finally met his gaze, which was indeed fixed only on you, you couldn’t help moving over, just a bit, to steal the space in front of him, and so that you were nearly touching. Immediately, his body stiffened, and you saw how his eye wavered. Volo was almost holding his breath—how absolutely cute—and you wanted nothing more than to lean in further, then pin him to the porch.

And in that moment, you decided that you might just do that.

“Sometimes, Volo…” You reached around him, leisurely planted one hand at his right, and you preened at how his eye flicked to watch your fingers flex on the porch before darting back to your face. “…I think of you in ways that I probably shouldn’t. It’s pretty distracting. You’re pretty distracting.”

For once, Volo was at a loss of what to do, what to say.

“Ah. I…”

It was only for a second, but he was taken aback by your boldness, although familiar, but never in… this manner.

He could smell your scent—sweet like the floral soap you had used earlier, with a hint of the sea breeze he was barely even aware of, but still undeniably you—as you pressed impossibly closer to him, your eyes flashing pure mischief. You were overwhelming.

He could feel how warm you were. There was a faint pounding in the back of his head, like an avalanche starting its rumbling descent down a snowy cliff side. Your influence, able to sweep him away so easily…

“You’re blushing,” you giggled as your fingers almost fluttered over his chin. “Perhaps you already know why I find you so distracting.”

Volo’s heart was thudding in his ears. He was aware that he had always wanted you, in some rather brazen part of his mind, but with you here now, you were more than he could have ever imagined.

“Then...” He urged his arms back to his sides, forced himself to speak, and it all sounded much too loud to him. “What have you thought of me?”

You grinned.

“About how I could mess you up,” you taunted, hushed as your lips dangerously neared his, “but only if you’d let me, pretty boy.”

Volo nearly groaned. Ah… Although he couldn’t comprehend a word of what you’d just said, he could recognize that wanton tone, and the implication that you’d addressed him in some way he’d never heard of before. And fuck, if that didn’t sound good coming from you… Maybe it was shameful, but Volo had always thought that the trace of an unfamiliar accent present in your Hisuian was curious. Though hearing you now, speaking a language he couldn’t understand… there was nothing but an endless heat pulsing through his veins and demanding control of his senses. It was punishing, it was maddening, and it was tugging every muscle in his body toward you. He couldn’t ignore how damn restless and frustrated you were making him. How badly he then wanted to bend you over your porch, a satisfied snarl on his lips as he bit down upon your neck.

Is this how distracted you feel because of me?

Beneath hooded lids, you watched as Volo swallowed thickly, a visage of eager hunger tainting his previous, helplessly confounded expression. Oh, too bad, I’ll miss it. But even as you thought so, you knew that you’d enjoyed whatever would come next.

“Ah…” Oh, he hated how that was the first noise out of his lips again; you seemed to find some haughty pleasure in it, as the smirk widened on your face. “Perhaps I should have confessed my desires sooner, if it had meant I could have you before me like this.”

Volo reached up, one of his hands cupping your cheek, and he shuddered at how you looked at him meaningfully, as if goading him on.

But even so, it was you who was prepared to make the most of this, as you dipped in toward him, still. He let you bear down on him, that splash of pink on his cheeks truly an enticing adornment to his very attractive, stunned little expression.

“Silly, lovely Volo…”

You laughed lightly, tilted your head…

The way you’d said my name—! Volo’s eyes shut as you brushed your lips over his, and he thought he would lose his mind—

but it was over before it had begun, and disappointment hardly had a chance to faze him further when he heard you, felt you, sigh against the shell of his ear, “Well, you’re not the only one who’s thought that, Volo.”

Your hands were then on his shoulders, urging him back, and all of you was suddenly against him.

When he opened his eyes, he only saw you, was entirely lost in everything about you.

“And if you’d like,” you continued invitingly, and he felt the tiny twitch of your lips as they trailed along his jaw, “I could show you.”

Volo closed his eyes, parted his lips in a trembling breath.

He was beyond shame, now.

“Please.”

[moonlitempty]

The World’s End (2013), Dir. Edgar Wright, Starring Simon Pegg and Nick Frost

One night. Six Friends. Twelve Pubs. Total Annihilation.

And with this beautiful entry we end the Cornetto Trilogy Journal Entries (C. T. J. E.’s for short), it’s been a truly beautiful ride! I hope my (frankly deficient and almost awful) little journal entries have provided at least a little bit of enjoyment or inspiration to all of you, my beautiful Peggsters <3

I had a lot of fun making them! And this served almost as an exercise or test in if I had any creativity left, I hadn’t done anything like this before so it was a nice little refreshment from my normal journaling routine.

(Pss, there is one for Spaced on the way, this is not the end!)

The World’s End proved to be the most exotic (for lack of a better word) movie out of its siblings, while I felt like Shaun and Hot Fuzz were grounded in reality enough that their events could realistically happen in our reality (well, perhaps excluding the zombies), I felt like The World’s End went all out with the mysticism, fantasy, extravagance, and exuberance.

Of course, this is to be expected, it IS a Sci-Fi movie after all! And I didn’t realise how much I needed a nice, time-to-fight-a-planetary-menace movie until I saw this beaut.

Which speaking of that, this movie is visually beautiful! All of Edgar’s Cornetto movies have this signature look I can’t quite put my finger on, but World’s End (I’ll call it that from now on for the sake of convenience) exudes a certain look and feel that I can’t quite describe, it’s sophisticated almost?

The editing in this film is the best in the entire trilogy, it’s got that signature snappy and dynamic style Edgar does so well, but this time it’s refined to the maximum level, with every scene change and transition leaving you in awe in a “THAT IS GENIUS!” sorta way.

Actually, I remember absolutely losing my shit at the intro ALONE, it was that much of a treat to the eyes.

The score was just PHENOMENAL as well! Normally I’m not one to pay much attention to a film’s score, they almost blend in and become complementary to the film in some cases, but this score drew me in almost immediately. It just started to become more and more impactful and present with each passing scene, I stopped taking the score for granted, and the whole film became a feast for the senses, the scene where Gary, Andy, Sam and Steven are driving away from Newton Haven was so powerful and imposing, I must get this score on some sort of physical format (don’t trust digital media to last forever! much less streaming!)

The plot was the thing I was most afraid of, I’m not known as a huge Sci-Fi guy, I find it quite boring and even uninteresting most of the time, so I was terrified of feeling disconnected from this film. The contrary ended up happening, I think this film may have put me onto the genre! That strange sort of cosmic horror and the implications of bigger and stronger societies outside of our own planetary grasp is very, very intoxicating.

GARY WAS PHENOMENAL.

The first time I watched the film I was honestly a little afraid that I’d dislike him, every little juvenile and childish joke or one liner he’d pull made me worried, specially since he was surrounded by a bunch of people that clearly knew he was not someone to trust. This all changed relatively quickly though, I learnt that Gary was just someone clinging to the past and the fun times he used to have with his mates, and honestly his struggles with addiction and feeling like you have nothing going for yourself hit particularly close to home for me. I ended up completely adoring Gary and I wish him the best, my sweet 40 year old baby boy.

The dynamic between Gary and Andy was perhaps the most interesting in the entire film, you could even argue it’s the central theme of the whole film, and seeing how it all slowly developed, unraveled, and blossomed, and Andy grew to care for Gary again was very, very sweet. The scene where they’re together at The World’s End was the most cathartic and powerful moment of the film. To err is human, truly.

I struggled to grow particularly attached to the rest of Gary’s and Andy’s friends, besides Steven and Sam, I didn’t care much for Oliver and Peter, admittedly, sorry!

This movie was surprisingly powerful, even now I find myself still thinking about it, specially the message of how making mistakes and being imperfect is part of the core nature of being human, to rob us of imperfection is to rob us of humanity, of warmth, of thought, of intention.

The World’s End. 10/10.

Until I (inevitably) rewatch you again, Cornetto Trilogy, which will probably be sooner than I expect it to be ❤️💙💚

[snippychicke]

For the Sake of a Smile(V.2) Chapter One

Title: For Sake of a Smile (Revised)

Overall Rating: Mature (18+)

Chapter Rating: E for Everyone 

Trigger warnings: Nothing beyond the child abuse hinted in the series, though we do explore the consequences a bit more.

Main Pairing: Balam Shichiro/Reader

Summary: Hell on earth was your motto for your job. Granted, you were pretty sure earth really was hell, considering the shit you had seen in your life. And the fact your coworker was a child. 

A child named Suzuki Iruma, in fact. A kid who’s life was decidedly worse than yours, but yet he smiled despite everything. It wasn’t long after meeting him that you decided you’d do a lot for his smile. Including summoning a literal demon and signing your soul away.

But as it turns out, hell (The Netherworld, actually) was a lot better than living on earth. Demons were more humane than a lot of humans you knew.

And Iruma’s smile wasn’t the only one that would change your life.

Masterlist | Ao3| Mairimashitai! Simps Discord

The candles lining the room flickered as a dark wind swept angrily around you. You could hear Iruma's ‘parents’ whimper in fear as they pressed themselves near the door. They had begged you not to summon the demon - obviously terrified of the supernatural beast - but you didn't care. If anything, it strengthened your resolve.

All you could think of was Iruma's smile. His innocent laugh, and how he beamed under the most basic niceties.

If this was true; If they sold that boy to a demon, and sent him to hell, you were going to snap. And honestly, you were afraid what kind of damage your rage could cause.

The demon crawled out of the floor stained with blood from your own hand that painted the seal. First large hands ending in large black nails, monstrous black wings, and long horns set against a bald head. Harsh, glowing eyes glared at you from behind glasses as the demon Sullivan stood to his full glory, nearly twice your height.

"Who dares to summon me?" He growled, and you couldn't help but tremble slightly in fear.

No. Think of Iruma.

"I did," You stated as you stood taller and met his glare. "I want to trade places with Suzuki Iruma in hell. But, I also want him to go to a better home. With people that will love and cherish him."

Sullivan seemed surprised by your words, pausing before he crouched down to look at you closer. "Suzuki Iruma cannot leave the Netherworld. Once a human soul enters into a contract, it cannot leave."

His words pierced your heart, and for a moment you wallowed in horror. He was stuck in hell? All alone? You could only imagine what was happening to him, recalling myths and legends of how demons loved to torture humans.

"Then… Then I want to be with him," You said, meeting his eyes once more. "I sell myself to you, so that I may be by Iruma's side, so he's not all alone in hell."

He tilted his head, stroking his small goatee thoughtfully. "Why would you do such a thing? The child is nothing to you."

"He is not nothing!" You argued, hearing those same words from his parents earlier. "He's an innocent child! There isn't a wicked bone in that boy's body! I may not be related to him, but I love him as if he was my little brother, or even my own son! He didn't deserve the shit his parents put him through, and he definitely doesn't deserve to be all alone in hell, thinking no one loves him!"

A smile spread across his face, and the fact a demon looked excited and pleased by your words didn't bode well for you. "Offer accepted."

Dark smoke suddenly clouded your vision, your body feeling strange as you batted it away and coughed. When it cleared you were sitting at a desk ; Sullivan at the other side, in an office that looked ancient but well kept - brightly lit by the tall windows behind the demon.

"Let's discuss your contract then," Sullivan clapped happily, a smile on his face. The difference gave you whiplash as he pulled out a piece of paper from his desk and grabbed a pen. "Lets see, in return for being here in the Netherworld with Iruma to guarantee his safety and happiness, I just ask you to become my legal daughter, and therefore, mother of my beloved grandson!"

You stared at him, sure you had misheard him. Daughter? Mother? Grandson? "What?"

"Iruma is my grandson!" He cheerfully declared and pulled out a photo album, and showed you dozens of hundred of pictures. Of Iruma. Iruma looking happy and awkward at the same time. In some the boy was completely startled - others smiling and even laughing as Sullivan held him like a proud father.

Proud grandfather. Little flags and banners pronounced Iruma as ‘number one grandson’ or ‘best grandson in the Netherworld’, and other various boasting phrases. You barely heard as Sullivan cooed over each picture, explaining the story behind them briefly, but you couldn't miss the obvious love in his voice as well as his joy.

"I thought… I thought he'd be miserable. That hell was, you know, hell. Brimstone and fire. Demons tearing flesh or torturing the souls of the damned."

"Not exactly," Sullivan explained, a smile on his face. Not a wicked or sinister smile - but an honest, cheery one that looked so sincere that you were confused. "While those legends hold some merit, our kind has changed as much as your kind has in the last couple hundred years."

That… made some sense, you supposed. As much sense as any of this did.

You felt relief as you leaned back in the hardwood chair. Iruma was…was okay. You looked more at the pictures, taking in each one. “What has he been doing, then?” You asked.

“My little Iruma is attending his first year at Babyls! One of the most prestigious schools in our land!” Sullivan cheered, flipping a few pages. “See! This is his first day of school! Doesn’t he look so cute in his uniform?!”

School. He was finally able to attend school like a child, though you had to wonder what kind of school demons attended. But Iruma looked happy, and then Sullivan flipped over a few pages to show you pictures of the boy along with his two friends-- ‘Az and Clara’ Sullivan briefly mentioned, though said little more about the two, though they appeared in many pictures.

“So, if I agree to be your daughter… what can I expect?” You asked slowly, forcing yourself away from the pictures. Should you still agree to this, now that you knew Iruma was safe? That he was happy and being taken care of?

“Well, that is the question,” Sullivan hummed, putting away the photo album. “But, I suppose as the daughter of the Lord of the House of Sullivan, you could do pretty much whatever you wanted, even if you don’t have a rank. Which, we would have to find a way to rectify that. Though, I could excuse your presence, and previous lack thereof, because of your weakness and wanting to protect you ....”

He continued to mumble, seemingly talking to himself. You allowed yourself a moment to look around the office, noting its decadence. Maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you… but he made it sound like he was someone of importance.

How did the social hierarchy even work here?

“Grandpa!” A familiar voice broke through your thoughts, making both you and Sullivan jump in surprise. “I’m home!”

“Oh! My little Iruma-kins! He’s home!”

Sullivan dashed out of the room in the blink of an eye, and you didn’t even think before following. The halls were just as richly decorated as you ran after Sullivan, barely able to keep up with his long legs.

By the time you reached the large antechamber, Sullivan had scooped Iruma up into a bear hug, apologizing for not being there to greet him earlier, while the boy laughed.

He looked so much healthier than the last time you saw him. No longer gaunt and pale from long hours of work and little nutrition, but there was now some color to his complexion - and meat on his bones. His blue eyes sparkled with even more life, and you thought he had even grown an inch.

Iruma noticed you after Sullivan set him down, his smile dying slowly. Realization struck harshly-- he was happy here. He had a family, friends, and he was going to school. There was no reason for you to be here. He didn’t need you anymore.

He cried your name, and suddenly you were being tackled by the fourteen year old, the wind knocked from your lungs as he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed hard. Your former thoughts were chased away by his crying as he held onto you, burying his face in your chest. “I-I’ve missed you so much! I can’t believe your here! You’re actually here!”

You felt your own tears sting your eyes as you returned his hug, squeezing him tight. “I’m here kiddo. I missed you too. Gods, I’ve missed you so much! I was so worried when you never came back from the boat, and no one knew where you were…!” You sank to your knees, pulling away so you could study his face. “Are you okay? Are you happy here? Are they treating you okay?”

He nodded his head rapidly, wiping away his tears. “Yes! Grandpa and Opera have been nothing but kind to me! Oh! I’m going to school, even though it’s actually a school for demons, but it’s actually a lot of fun! And I even have friends too!”

Words failed you, though your mouth hurt from grinning widely. Instead, you pressed a kiss to his forehead before tugging him into another hug.

“Iruma, my boy,” Sullivan spoke after a moment, pulling you back into reality. “Your friend and I were discussing a contract, and I suppose since it concerns you, you should have a say in it too.”

Iruma frowned, looking between you and the demon, confusion evident on his face. “What kind of contract?”

“I…was really worried about you,” You started. “And when I found out what your parents did, I… may have summoned Sullivan and asked to be brought here to be with you, so you weren’t alone." You admitted guiltily. "I didn’t realize you were happy, and then Sullivan offered for me to stay… and to become his daughter, and I guess your adoptive mother?”

Iruma seemed stunned by your words, his blue eyes wide. “You did that? For me?”

“Of course," You laughed as you ruffled his blue hair. "I mean, you know how much of a mother-hen I am. I was really worried and scared when you disappeared. All I cared about was finding you. But…" You trailed off, looking at the demon Sullivan briefly, who was still beaming with happiness and pride, and the luxury of the mansion. "I guess it was unneeded. This is more than I could ever hope for you, so I completely understand if you don’t want me sticking around.”

“What? No!" Iruma protested immediately as he clung to you tighter. "I mean, if you don’t want to, I understand, but I-I would really love it if you did! I've missed you so much, and I wanted to share everything with you! There is so much food here! It’s kinda hard to get used to at first, because of how it looks, but it is so good! And the beds are so comfy! No more lumpy futons on the cold ground. And, oh, you’d love the baths! And books! I know how much you love to read!”

“So, you’d be okay if I stayed?” You asked carefully, knowing his inability to say no to others, yet there wasn’t a hint of reluctance on his face as he grinned.

“Absolutely!”

"Perfect! Opera!" Sullivan clapped and in the blink of an eye, another person appeared; ruby-red hair with matching cat ears, dressed in a suit. "Can you…"

Sullivan didn't even have to finish as Opera handed him the scroll from earlier, their golden eyes trained on you, as if piercing through and seeing your soul. You unconsciously pulled Iruma closer, unsure what to make of the new person. Demon? There was little to no expression on their face, though you noticed a tail flicking behind them.

"Alright, just sign here and here," Sulivan stated as he knelt on the floor beside you, handing you the quill. You took a moment to acknowledge that you were literally signing your life away, never to return to the world you knew. All the struggling you endured to scrape your way through life, gone.

But Iruma was smiling so widely, and that's all it took for you to know you were making the right choice. You signed your name despite being unable to read the odd language, trusting the boy beside you.

"Welcome to the family!" Sullivan cried as soon as you were finished. Opera took the scroll the same moment Sullivan grabbed both you and Iruma into a tight hug. "Oh! I am so happy! First a grandson! And now a daughter to spoil too! My friends will be so jealous!"

-+-

Spoil was right. 

You gaped at the bedroom that Sullivan had given to you. Just across the hall from Iruma's, and apparently just a decadent. A large bed that looked thick and plush, the walls lined with bookcases, a literal walk-in closet that was the side of your bedroom back at your former home.

And a balcony with glass doors that revealed the night sky lit with foreign stars and multiple moons. 

How could this be hell? 

There was a knock at the door, and you turned in time to see Iruma poke his head. "How is everything?" 

"I-I'm in shock," You answered honestly. Yes, dinner had been an odd experience with food that looked nothing like what you were used to, but Iruma pointed out his favorites (everything Opera cooked, apparently) and it was a nice change to have a full belly for once in living memory. 

"I'd say you'll get used to it, but it still surprises me a lot too," He answered as he entered. "I… I'm really glad you're here. I just can't believe you'd go through all that trouble for me…" 

Your heart softened at his awkward expression. You sat on the edge of the bed and patted the space next to you for him to join. "I wasn't kidding that first day when I said I was going to stick with you and watch over you like a hawk." 

Iruma's smile returned as he recalled when he first met you. After you got over the initial shock of him being your new coworker, you had sworn to him that you were going to be his new shadow - and as long as you were around he was safe. 

After taking care of himself for so long, Iruma had a hard time believing that a complete stranger would say, let alone mean, those words to him. But you kept your word time and time again. Stepping up to protect him whenever someone tried to take advantage of him. 

He was brought from his thoughts as you combed your fingers through his hair tenderly, that soft smile on your face. "You're really okay with being my mom?" He asked after a moment.

His own parents had sold him after everything he had done. You had always been the mother figure that he had dreamt of in private. Yet the fact you would still do so much for him was hard to accept. The fact you wanted to be his mom seemed like a dream come true. 

"Absolutely," You answered without hesitation. "As long as you're okay with it, I would love nothing more." 

Iruma couldn't hold back his tears, nor the urge to hug you tightly. You quickly returned the embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

His life couldn't get any better. 

-+-

Weeks passed, and you felt like a princess; one would think - after the trials of your life; that you would enjoy it. After all, Sullivan had a huge private library that - after a quick spell from the demon - you could read freely. 

There were stables next to the mansion, with four horse-like creatures known as Nightmares. Overall they were fairly tame, eating meat right from your hand in a (mostly) gentle manner. 

Then there were the gardens, carefully tended by little imp-like creatures. The flora was nothing like back on earth, but had their own sense of beauty. 

In the evenings, Opera made a multi-course meal, and you were able to listen to Iruma as he recounted his day, talk with him and Sullivan about what you read and discovered about the Netherworld.

You should have loved it. But after the first week, you were restless. You were so used to having to work - to having a purpose - it drove you nuts. 

"Please Opera?"

Opera's eyes narrowed faintly as their tail twitched with annoyance. They crossed their arms as they blocked the enterance to the kitchen. "As I've said before, my lady. You may help with cleaning, gardening, and whatever else. But the kitchen is off limits."

"But you've already done everything else," You whined rather petulantly. "Can I clean the dishes?"

"No, and that's final." Opera stated firmly. And to be fair, they had a good reason. As it turned out, magic was involved with cooking in the Netherworld. And the fact you had no magic meant disastrous results. "Why not go read? Or visit Lord Sillivan's nightmares in the stables? They would enjoy your company."

You knew when you were being dismissed, and sighed. "Alright. Maybe I can get my head around your damned magic system. God- er, Devi," You corrected when their eyes narrowed at you, their ears twitching in disapproval. Using 'holy' curse words was highly frowned upon, which was always catching you at the oddest moments. "Who knew magic would be so complicated."

"That sounds like a lovely idea," Opera acknowledged before turning and retreating to the kitchen. You sighed again before dragging yourself towards the library. 

You needed some easier books. Ones that went through the basics, instead of assuming you already knew them. You could ask Sullivan, you supposed - but at this point you felt too much like a burden already. 

Hours passed as you sulked in a comfy chair, glaring at a book instead of reading it. You weren't meant to be pampered and have a life of luxury. You liked having a purpose, something to occupy your day. 

The door opened, and you looked up from your book to see Sullivan poking his head inside with a pout. "Why is my darling princess so sullen?" He whined, "What can I do for my darling daughter?"

"I need a job!" You blurted. "I don't care what it is! Make me break rocks! Or push boulders up a hill! Or reshelve an entire library! Give me something to do!"

"Hmm," Sullivan hummed as he thought. "You actually have reshelved my library a few times already…" 

You blushed at the faint tease, though to be fair he admitted there hadn't been much rationale behind how he had them on the shelves. 

"It actually gives me an idea," He continued, clapping his hands. "Babyls' hasn't had a full time librarian in quite a while. A few teachers and Battlers have been trying to manage, but, well - they haven't quite succeeded. What would you think of joining the faculty as the full-time librarian?" 

That… was a lot more than you expected. "Really?" 

"Of course!" He laughed at your shock. "I don't want you to be miserable cooped up here, and I could also show you off to the rest of the staff!!" 

You groaned, warmth spreading through your face as you hid behind your book. It was hard getting used to his cheerful enthusiasm. While Iruma had tried to reassure you to just go with it, it was just… awkward. Embarrassing.

Maybe it was because you were a grown adult, or that you had gone all your life without the affection of a parent. You weren't a child. You have grown and adapted to life, and now…

Honestly, the love and affection was harder to adjust to than being in the Netherworld.

Case in point, Sullivan was suddenly wrapping his arms around you, holding you tight. "Please say yes! I would love to have both my daughter and grandson with me at work!" 

"Yeah, of course," You answered as he squeezed. "Anything would beat just bumming out around here." 

-+-

When Sullivan said the library was in disarray, you suspected maybe messy - disorganized; Much like his own library when you had arrived.  

But this was so, so much worse. The Babyls library was huge, taking up two stories. There were books piled haphazardly next to bookcases, many stuffed with papers that didn't belong. The lighting was poor, the windows covered with thick drapes, and many of the sitting areas were well used to the point of being worn and frayed, many of the tables having deep scratches from students. 

You had your work cut out for you.

You couldn't be happier.

--+-- Su-Ki-Ma --+--

The student body was extremely curious once you started. You tried to ignore the whispers that followed you as you set to work. After all, you weren't trained as a Librarian in the least bit. Sullivan had barely gone over your duties that morning before being dragged away to do his own work by Opera. 

Take care of the books. Keep them organized and in good shape. 

Assist students with finding what they need

Ensure a peaceful environment for students to study.

Oversee the Library battler alongside Furcus (a battler was apparently a club, from what you could gather)

That was it. How to achieve the above was your problem to solve, apparently. 

And at first, you expected to be challenged by the students - knowing how teenagers could be (and assuming demons would challenge authority even moreso). But oddly, they preferred to gossip. 

Apparently, Iruma already had left quite an impression, and despite his dafty nature, Sullivan garnered enough respect that it extended to you - despite being 'rankless'. 

-+-

The first of Iruma's friends you met was Azazel Ameri of the student council.

"Oh! Iruma told me about you," You said when Ameri introduced herself

 A blush crossed her face, breaking the stoic expression. "Oh?"

"Something about reading a book series together?" You offered. You didn't mean to be vague on purpose, but Iruma himself had skirted around any details when he was recounting his story. 

You finally understood why as Ameri's blush grew along with the smile on her face, making you feel rather giddy. Even if she was a demon, it was obvious she had at least a small crush on Iruma

Meaning your boy did have a chance for a normal teenager life afterall. 

Ameri coughed to clear her throat. "Anyways, on behalf of the students I wanted to welcome you to Babyls." She bowed slightly. "It is an honor to have the daughter of Lord Sullivan to preside over our library." 

It was your turn to blush, as well as laugh nervously. "Heh. Um, thank you. Very much."

-+-

Asmodiues Alice - or 'Az' - and Valac Clara were the ones you had been most eager to meet, considering how close Iruma was to them. 

And the stories you thought Iruma had been exaggerating proved to be true. 

"Iru-mama!" You heard someone shout out of nowhere before being tackled to the ground. By the time the room stopped spinning, you were on your back with a green-haired girl in your arms, giving you one of the widest smiles you had seen. "Hi, Iru-mama!"

"Stupid Clara!" Someone swore. Judging by the pink hair and fancy suit, you assumed he was 'Az’. "Don't attack her ladyship like that, and definitely don't call her 'Iru-mama!'"

"But Az-Az, she is Iruma-kins mom!" Clara protested, still not letting you go. Instead, she squeezed tighter as she buried her face against you like a child. "So she's Iru-mama!" 

"She is Master Iruma's mother and the daughter of Lord Sullivan!" Az huffed. "You need to show more respect!" 

"It's okay," You interrupted before Clara could speak. You placed a hand on Clara's back and offered a smile. "I don't mind being called Iru-mama." If anything it sent butterflies into your stomach, just like everytime Iruma called you mom.  

For all intents and purposes, you were now the boy's mother. And you couldn't be happier about the fact.

Clara grinned wider and giggled happily, while Az stood a little straighter. "I apologize, my lady. I tried to stop her but obviously I failed." 

"It's fine," You reassured. "You must be Asmodeus and Clara, correct? Iruma's told me a lot about you. I'm glad he has friends like you two." 

Both beamed in their own way, seemingly proud of the fact. "Thank you, that means a lot to me," Az answered while Clara only hugged you tighter.

[shiroi---kumo]

So Kira is here to ramble about one of the biggest problems that exists within Kumo and Kaze's relationship and it came up when Kumo was talking to Sam's Kaze. So for the sake of not confusing people to clarify, from this point in the post forward:

Kaze = Sam's Kaze (AU Timeline Kaze / Omega! Kaze) Black Wind = Quen's Kaze ( Kumo's Other / Bahamut! Kaze) So the one of the MANY things Kumo is struggling with is actually a huge problem between the two and Kumo explained it to Kaze, because they were talking about the differences in their age gaps, is that Black Wind slept for 12 years but consistently neglects to remember / realize / act on - the fact that Kumo was awake the entire time.

Kumo explained to Kaze "He fell asleep to a terrified boy and woke to an exhausted man. He wants me to see him how he is but in his eyes I am forever a child."

The problem here as Kumo explained to Kaze is "He seems to fail to respect the fact that, while the gaps must be terrifying and I am willing to help him with whatever he needs, the world did not simply stop without him and that I did not simply stop without him. "

Kumo went further to explain: "I have been here for nearly 15 long years now but to him, he has only been in Wonderland for 2 short years. The memories of my home have grown fuzzy in my mind but he can still hold his fresh in his hands has if it all happened only a few years ago. He has only known me for roughly 5 years if we count what Black Wind cannot remember, but I oh but I have known him for decades."

Kumo carried on further to explain: "Time moves differently for us."

And while at no fault of his own, I think it's important to remember that Kaze is missing over a decade's worth of time and in that decade Kumo grew from a boy into a man and he survived hardship after hardship all for the sake of keeping Kaze's sleeping form safe. Kumo was awake and Kumo was alone.

Kumo explained to Kaze further: "I used to sneak out to care for him. Brush his hair out and wash his face. I couldn't do much but I did whatever I could. I would get punished severely upon my return, but it was worth it in the end because someone needed to look after him."

So this aspect of "Black Wind is older than Kumo" by ten years is sort of a moot point at this point because by all rights - Kumo is older than Black Wind as he was awake for the entire time they've been in Wonderland. Kumo simply knows Wonderland better. By all rights, he's been there longer.

Kumo went through hell in the time Black Wind was asleep and it's important to remember that Kumo went through that hell for Black Wind's sake. He's seen horror and survived (and not survived) so much.

So just looking at the aspect of time wise: when it comes to knowing how Wonderland works and interacting with the people there and being able to speak a multitude of languages - more than just Wonderlandian, Misterican and Windarian -> Kumo had the time to learn them and he did. Kumo's aspirations and endgame goal were born from the fact that he's been in Wonderland for so long and experienced so much more of it.

From all his escape attempts to the horrendous tasks The Earl sent him out to do. He's simply experienced Wonderland more because he's been here for basically half his life at this point.

Time moves much slower for Kumo. That's why his soul scars have him so afraid because now it's not.

[indigoraysoflight]

14 or 28 for Ned and catelyn whichever you prefer. Thank you.

Hey nonny! Here you go ♥️

14. Airplane

Thundering heartbeat pounded through the silence. Beads of sweat soaked through the cotton shirt. Seatbelt taut around the waist. The plane started whirring, groaning, buzzing louder and louder—

"Do you want to hold my hand?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure-"

"-yes"

"But-"

"-no."

The plane jerked forward.

Ned clutched Catelyn's hand tightly, breathed in sharply, and pressed back in his seat.

His shame hit him in full force a moment later but he didn't let go as the noise of the plane filled the space and blocked his ears.

It's fine. I'm fine. It's fine.

It's bad enough that he'd been forced to stay in the godsforsaken muggy heat of Riverrun for a week to deal with the Tullys when he could've spent that time with Jory, Lya and Ben up north in the crisp, cold Winterfell summer – but enduring two long flights in on top of that? That was pure torture. Thanks to his dumbass brother who decided to get too flirty with the oldest Tully daughter in front of her father.

The staunchly religious Hoster Tully flat out refused to host Brandon while his daughters were still under his roof "no matter how lucrative their business alliance was". So their father had sent him – the only bad flyer in the family – to Riverrun to secure the business deal by any means possible.

So the ever protective Hoster Tully had saddled Ned with the duty of safely escorting the oldest Tully girl back to Winter Town where she was finishing her PhD at WinterU. Their acquaintance had zigzagged between witty comebacks and polite conversations about the weather – both kept each other at arms length, humoured each other for their parents sake and neither tried to hide it.

Aaaand now Ned broke that unspoken pact and embarrassed himself by clutching her hand like a terrified little boy watching "the exorcist" for the first time. But for the life of him he couldn't let go as long as the plane kept getting faster and making those loud noises. He was going to punch Brandon when he got home.

I'm a Stark, damn it, I'm not afraid of this plane taking off and immediately crashing into the ground and exploding. Ned took another deep breath. In his periphery, Catelyn bit her lip to curb her smile.

"Shut up."

But it just made her laugh. Catelyn turned to him now with impossibly blue eyes, auburn curls escaping her twisted bun, and the flush in her cheeks spreading down to her collarbones. She placed her other hand on top of his.

"Close your eyes and hold on to me – it'll be over soon. My mother was a bad flyer too." Her voice barely audible over the sound of the plane lifting off.

Ned let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing only on the warmth of her hands around his own. Idly thinking about how slender and small her hands seemed compared to his. Then suddenly the noises stopped, they were up in the air and he opened his eyes.

The sun was bright and warm through the window. He turned to her to thank her but his words crumbled on his lips.

The sunlight threaded through her hair and tangled into the curls and set them alight. Tendrils of auburn kissed by fire curled around her face. The light bounced off the blue pools of her eyes. The flush in her cheek deepened.

"See? All good. You'll be home in no time." Catelyn gave him a reassuring smile.

"Yeah. Home." That was all he could manage.

Ned's heartbeat calmed down. The beads of sweat dried on his shirt. The sounds of the plane faded in the background. The seatbelt light blinked off. He no longer felt afraid. His hand still clasped with Catelyn's.

But he didn't let go and neither did she.

[bastardofodin]

Random lovers headcanons for some of my favorite dragon men. Includes Hanzo Shimada, Miraak and Kaido.

•Hanzo Shimada -

Hanzo is by no means a tepid lover. If you can manage to get him to let his walls down, he's passionate and deeply romantic, wanting very much to dote on his partner. Being a man of class, he would enjoy taking his sweetheart out to enjoy all the finer things in life. He would insist on lavishing them with expensive finery and the like. Being that he's an archer, and was formerly a swordsman, he is exceptionally skilled with his hands and is not afraid to show off those skills. He's rather fond of pushing his lover's limits as well as his own. It's a point of pride for him, seeing how long he can last while also testing how long his partner can as well. If he were to fail to make a lover satisfied, he'd count it as a mark of shame against him, then spend a not insignificant amount of time trying to make it up to them. He's not great with the idea of having children, with his past being as full of trauma as it is, and would insist that he is not good parent material.

•Miraak -

Boy is timid as fuck when it comes to relationships. After spending so long in Apocrypha and having not been around other people for so long, he would definitely be terrified of screwing up even slightly. He's a bit on the clingy side, I mean for god sakes, he's been alone for TOO DAMN LONG, so now that he has someone, he's going to treasure them. Even if he is a touch HYPER protective and possessive. He wants to take charge and be in control, but has no idea how to actually do so, and thus, he lets his sweetheart make most of the decisions when it comes to going and doing things, though his ego very much demands that he act as though it was his idea all along. In terms of intimacy, this man has no clue what he's doing and is a bit embarrassed to admit as much. It would be a point of contention for him, until his lover finally confronted him about it, at which point, he would begrudgingly admit that he's basically clueless. Once they had established that, he would be a bit more receptive to guidance from his sweetheart, and would feel a sense of pride whenever they would praise him. Boy has a bit of a praise kink, as he quickly discovers.

•Kaido -

Assuming he isn't off drinking and doing horrible things to himself, Kaido is a very passionate lover. He has an overall air of loneliness about him that draws his partner in, if they can tolerate his penchant for the drink. When he's sober, he's infinitely more subdued and serious, but deeply enjoys any sort of contact he can have with his partner. He's a tad on the touch starved side, and secretly craves the touch of his sweetheart, and nearly melts into a puddle of dragony goop any time they so much as play with his hair. If his partner, and only his partner, asked him not to drink he would listen, but act unhappy about it while secretly being thrilled to know they care about him enough to say as much. He enjoys sitting up, late at night and listening to the stories of swashbuckling adventures his lover has gone on, and will rarely interject or interrupt, as he finds their tales fascinating and endearing. In terms of intimacy, he's not opposed to outright sex, but would vastly prefer simply holding his lover while they fall asleep on his chest. He finds the contact soothing. And if he were to engage in sexual activity, he would very much want open communication of both he and his partner's desires, as he wants them as happy as can be. He revels in the quiet moments of the night, where he can simply relax with his sweetheart nestled against his chest, listening to the sounds of them falling into slumber.

[joaniejustwokeup]

“You can’t be here.”

“Jason?”

Jason looks at Batman and Nightwing. His expression in the past few moments has switched from shock to anger before settling firmly into terrified.

“He’ll be back soon, B please. He’ll kill you, he’ll kill all of you if he finds out I spoke to you and-“ Jason chokes off his sentence with a sob, covering his mouth as tears well in his eyes.

Bruce walks forward slowly, a hand outstretched, and Jason stumbles backward, panicking, afraid to be touched, afraid of him. Bruce feels his heart fracture at the sight of his son- and yes he’s scarred and older and bigger, but that’s his son, that’s his baby. And his baby boy looks so, so scared.

Bruce feels a hand on his shoulder as Dick steps up behind him.

“Little wing?” he calls, his voice almost a whisper. Jason’s eyes flicker over to him. Dick must see something in them, because his next words are a broken and quiet, “Oh. It really is you.”

From the way he’s holding himself like a tensely coiled spring, Bruce can tell it’s taking everything in Dick’s willpower not to throw himself at his baby brother and never let him go.

Jason is looking at them, his breath still shallow and shaky, but something in his eyes has turned calculating. He holds out his hand.

“Give me your com,” he says looking at Dick.

Dick hesitates, confused.

For the first time since they came in, Jason steps closer to the two of them.

“You can’t save me right now. You need to leave. He’ll be here any second, and you can’t just beat the crap outta this guy and be done with it. He has plans and safeguards and contingencies on top of contingencies. He’s put explosives in his helmet in case someone tries to unmask him for God’s sake. He’s dangerous. Even more batshit insane than you B, and he’s going be here any minute,” Jason’s voice cracks on his last words.

Bruce has the sudden thought of how different his voice sounds from when he last heard it. How his voice had been the breaking and cracking voice of a fifteen year old battling puberty. Before he died.

Jason catches his gaze with a determined look.

“But just because you have to go doesn’t mean you can’t save me. I don’t know where he’s moving me to after this, but if you give me a com I can call you. I’ll explain everything, but please Dad, you have to go!”

Bruce feels like he was given hope again only to have it crumble to dust in his hands.

“Jason…” he repeats. It’s the only word he knows right now.

Dick steps forward, taking the com from his ear and pressing it into Jason’s hand. Before he can pull his hand away Dick grabs his hand with his other, folding Jason’s fingers over the com and clutching his hand in both of Dick’s own like he’s praying over Jason’s scarred knuckles.

He has so many new scars, Bruce thinks.

“We will rescue you Little Wing. I promise, we won’t- we’ll save you this time, I promise.” The corner of Dick’s mouth shakes. “Just call us. We won’t let that monster hurt you anymore, we’ll figure something out together, ok?”

Jason seems taken aback, but he musters a shaky smile for his brother.

“Y-yeah Dickiebird, together.”

Dick pulls him in for a hug, before pulling away and walking back to the window.

Bruce is still frozen where he stands. He takes another step towards his son.

“Jason… please,” he whispers.

Come home.

It’s unspoken and yet the loudest thing he’s said.

Jason takes another step forward and puts both hands on his shoulders.

“I’ll be ok Dad. I’m a lot bigger and stronger than I was. It’s time for you to go now.” And with that he pushes Bruce towards the window.

Dick steadies him as he trips backwards.

Bruce feels like a passenger in his own body as Nightwing opens the window and Batman once more casts his grapple out into the night. Looking back at the building, he can see the silhouette of his son in the yellow light of the window, watching them as the distance between them grows bigger and bigger. They land on a gravel topped roof, and Nightwing becomes strangely still and silent. With a sudden yell, he punches the nearby ac unit, leaving a dent in the metal.

“Red Hood is going to pay,” he growls out.

Batman just watches, his mind churning with everything that’s changed.

—————

Jason finally sees the pair disappear behind a distant building before collapsing into one of his safe house chairs. He stares at the wall for a good minute or so before he lets out a bark of laughter.

“HOW THE FUCK DID THAT ACTUALLY WORK????”

Prompt:

After some very eventful weeks of Jason’s debut as the Red Hood he takes a week deserved night off and decides to crash in one of his safe houses.

He did not count on one of the Bats finding him there.

So to keep his plans from being torpedoed entirely Jason goes with the split second decision of pretending he was held captive by the Red Hood.

[ahegato]

[NSFW] Obey Me - fem!MC first time with Satan

m.list

TW: nsfw, first time sex, loss of virginity, swearing Characters: Satana Writer: ahegato

Context:  The MC would probably be pretty nervous since it’s the first time and stuff like that. Idk I lost my virginity when I was like 17 and now I’m really old, so I barely remember it. I just recall worrying about the pain while also knowing it was common, that’s about it lol

You/your pronouns, so basically gender neutral, bUT MC will have female bits.

lucifer (cumming soon) | mammon | leviathan | satan (ur here) | asmodeus | beelzebub (cumming soon) | belphegor (cumming soon) | diavolo (cumming soon) | barbatos (cumming soon) | simeon (cumming soon) | solomon

SATAN:

he may seem put together, but he’s actually super nervous

but he’ll keep himself calm for you

you’re the one getting boinked, so it’s the least he could do

he does a lot of research to be sure that he’s ready and can properly lead you through it

“a-are you sure about this?”

ragey boy is so cute when he’s nervous I can’t-

his cheeks are red, his hands are sweaty, and good demon lord he’s actually struggling to speak

different from leviathan, however, he’ll still initiate stuff

just maybe not as confidently as say, lucifer, would

satan is a hopeless romantic, so he wants to be as close to you as possible

yet he also really wants to go rough with you

but he’s terrified he’ll get too into it and hurt you, so you’ll have to initiate it

scratch. his. back. 

treat him like a scratching post, that’s how you get him going

r o u g h  a s f

he’s not that big, but it’s still possible that you’ll be sore from how hard and deep he goes once you release the beast inside of him

cums so much

it took out so much energy that he’ll sleep for like 12 hours the next night

“I will admit that I’m a little worried that I’ll be too rough on you. Please promise me that you will speak up if you don’t like something.” Satan says, holding your hands in between his as he keeps his worried gaze on you.

“I promise, don’t worry about it,” you smile at him, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the cheek, which continues down his jaw, neck and finally stopping at his shoulder, making the avatar of wrath let out a light groan. Despite it being your first time, it was like you knew exactly how to get him going.

-

Satan curses under his breath as he enters you, trying to keep himself together for your sake, ignoring the way your insides hug him.

“Are you alright?” he gently asks when you hiss from the pain, and he tries not to show how concerned he actually is.

“Yeah, I think I just need a moment to adjust.” you respond, your eyes tightly squeezed shut.

“Of course, love,” he whispers in your ear, his hands on your shoulders and thumbs rubbing against the skin, hoping to give you some comfort while also giving you space in case you need it.

Once you give him the OK, he slowly begins to move, making sure to be gentle. Except it quickly becomes painfully slow, and you beg him to go faster and deeper, to which he hesitantly obliges.

He can’t deny that he loves the increase in speed and force, groaning and humming as your cavern envelops him. Although what he doesn’t want to show is that his rough side is threatening to come out. He’s afraid of bringing that into your very first time together, worried it might scare you or even hurt you, so he puts a lot of effort into trying to control himself. Try as he might, you can tell that he’s holding back, and you try to get him to give in.

“I... ngh... I don’t think I can...control myself...if I do,” his voice is shaky, barely able to get the words out.

Trying to take the matter into your own hands, you change the position slightly by wrapping your legs around him to pull him towards you. It causes him to hit you in a different spot, one that makes you see stars, and you press your nails into the skin on his back. He released a drawn out groan, and he thrusted into you even deeper.

Bingo!

You pretend to not notice, but when he starts moving again, you scrape your nails against his back, and hoo boy he loses control. He’s roughly rutting into you, releasing curses in between his quick breaths. He’s going absolutely wild and it’s so fucking good, which you of course let him know with moans of your own.

“You’re so-... ah, fuck... I’m getting close...” he growls into your ear.

He’ll cum with a low snarl and pull you closer so your bodies are pressed flush against each other. Once he recovers, he’ll be a mix between embarrassed and surprised. Embarrassed that he lost control, surprised that you took him like a champ and begged for more.

✦ 30/11/2023 (Im so sorry lmao) - 14/05/2024 ✦ ahegato ✦