#here's to hoping the coming year is just a little bit kinder

[runariya]

🥸🤫☠️ : JK

He wants something 🤫 as down payment before he lets u inside safe haven (a place where survivors go to seek refuge)

(yandere+smut+apocalypse) part of the prompt game pairing: metro inhabitant!Jungkook x survivor!female reader genre: apocalypse!AU, S2L, yandere-ish? warnings: survival after nuclear fallout, dark creatures, denied prostitution for safety, Jungkook is whipped from the start so that should suffice for yandere, foul language, smut, oral (f. receiving), squirting, JK comes in his pants, fluff, lmk if I forgot smth (still hate writing warnings) word count: 3.239 (upsiiii)

a/n: I couldn't rly make JK more yandere without it feeling a bit too dub-con, so I hope that's alright 💕 also it's heavily inspired by the trilogy '2033' by Dmitri Gluchowski (and to my Russian readers: Московское метро выглядит так круто на фотографиях в интернете, надеюсь, однажды смогу его посетить☺️)

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You’ve been wandering for what feels like years, though it could be months, or perhaps just weeks; time’s an abstract notion now, in this world broken to pieces and baked under a nuclear sun. 

With each step you take, the weight of exhaustion and your protective suit presses harder against your bones, but you don’t let it stop you. The world may be a dying beast, choking on its own ash and poison, but you still walk through it, a lone ember that refuses to snuff itself out. The remnants of cities whisper ghost stories to you as you pass, their bones twisted metal and crumbling concrete, charred earth for flesh. The wind sometimes hisses through the ruins, carrying tales of survivors—others like you, fighting, scavenging, enduring—and sometimes it’s silent, as if even the air is holding its breath for fear of what’s out there in the deep silence of the aftermath.

The black creatures—those twisted silhouettes of the apocalypse—roam the earth like shadows unbound from their hosts, moving through the poisoned fog with an unnatural grace that chills your very marrow. They are things of nightmares, remnants of the old world, perhaps, mutated beyond recognition by the fallout or born anew from the hatred that festers in the radioactive soil. 

Their eyes, if they have any, are voids, consuming light and hope in equal measure, and their movements are barely perceptible until it’s too late, until they are upon you, whispering your end in a language only the dead would understand. They hunt relentlessly, not for sustenance, not for survival, but as if driven by some primal force deeper than instinct, a desire not just to kill but to erase, to wipe away the last remnants of humanity like dust from the pages of a forgotten book. 

And you—battered, exhausted, teetering on the edge of oblivion—cannot rest, not here, not ever, because even in your sleep they find you, crawling into your dreams with their inky tendrils, reminding you that peace is a luxury no longer afforded to the living outside of shelter.

Your gas mask, an old friend now, covers your face like a second skin at this point, the filters clogged and heavy with days of dust, radiation, and fumes. You’ve noticed the way it pulls in air with more effort now, as if it’s trying to remember how to breathe. 

You check the filter again. It’s nearly gone, the little red marker ticking closer to empty with every breath you take. You’ll have to find something new soon or you’ll suffocate on the very air that should sustain you.

This isn’t the first time you’ve tried to find shelter. In those early days, the optimism hadn’t yet drained from your veins and the desperation to belong somewhere, anywhere, had clouded your better judgment. 

There had been men—those ones with teeth like wolves, eyes like death, always leering, always demanding. You’ve had to pull your knife more than once to remind them that your body isn’t for sale, that safety shouldn’t cost that much. That death, perhaps, is a kinder alternative to what they would have asked of you. 

You can still hear their laughter sometimes, echoing in your skull—mocking, cruel. You had fled from them, from their dark gazes and cruel hands, from the taste of fear that licked at your throat when their eyes lingered too long on your body. Better the damnation from outside than their promises of protection.

But today… today you find yourself at the mouth of the metro. The entrance yawns wide like a secret, and the shadow of it draws you in, as though it’s reaching out for you. Your steps falter, but only for a moment—just long enough to recognise the hesitation in your chest, the uncertainty gnawing still on your mind. The thought flickers briefly across your consciousness—what if the people down there are like those others? What if all you find is more violence, more degradation, more proof that humanity has shed its last skin and become nothing more than base instincts and brutality?

But the mask is running low, and you can feel that desperation is creeping back into your bones, burrowing deep. You tighten your grip on the strap of your pack, pushing the fear down, burying it beneath a layer of resolve. You’ve come this far; you won’t turn back now.

The entrance is quiet—eerily so, as you push the tall hermetic door open and step inside, closing it quickly after. You glance around, eyes scanning the wreckage for signs of life. There’s nothing at first, just the silent exhalation of wind and the low hum of the distant, underground world. Then, movement.

You hear him before you see him—a soft shuffling of boots against stone, the faint click of a weapon being cocked. You freeze, instinctively tightening your grip on your knife as he steps into view.

Tall. Taller than most of the men you’ve encountered in these forsaken times. Muscles sculpted from necessity, sinew and strength coiled beneath his clothes like a waiting beast. He’s staring at you through the mask, gun raised, the barrel pointing at your chest. For a second, neither of you move. Then his eyes flicker downward, just for a moment, taking you in, assessing, like all the others. You brace yourself for what’s to come.

But it doesn’t come.

“Take it off,” he commands, voice low, barely more than a growl. His weapon doesn’t waver, and his expression is hidden behind a mask, eyes glinting through the cracked visor.

You hesitate. There’s a moment where you think of running, but there’s nowhere to go. There’s only the metro behind him, and the world ahead, both full of uncertainties, both as equally capable of destroying you. You suck in a breath, let it fill your lungs like a final goodbye to the stale air in the mask, and then you reach up to peel it away from your face, your skin sticking to the rubber for a moment before it falls loose.

The air tastes strange on your lips—metallic, sharp, almost alien after all this time behind the mask. You lift your eyes to his, half-expecting some sort of reaction, maybe disgust, maybe lust. But instead… there’s something different there, something you hadn’t anticipated. His gaze softens, though his grip on the weapon remains steady. He stares at you as though you’re something out of place in this hellscape, something fragile, a curiosity more than a threat. His gun lowers, just slightly, but his eyes don’t leave your face, as he too rids himself of his mask. 

He’s younger than you thought. Ink spills across his skin—tattoos that ripple over his arm, dark lines twisting around muscles. You catch a glimpse of two piercings through his lip when he tilts his head slightly, like he’s trying to figure you out, and then his lips curve, ever so slightly, not quite a smile but not quite hostility either.

“Shelter,” you say, your voice rough, the words like stones scraping against the back of your throat. You cough once, clearing the dust away. “I need shelter.”

He eyes you for a moment longer, his gaze wandering down your frame, but it’s not like before—not like the leering stares of the men who sought to take more than they were willing to give. This is different. There’s something almost reverent in the way he looks at you, as though the mere fact that you’re still standing here, after all this, after the end of the world, is enough to stir absolute disbelief in him.

“Alright,” he says, after a pause that seems to stretch out longer than it should. “We’ll see.”

He gestures with his head, motioning for you to follow him into the metro. You hesitate for only a heartbeat before stepping forward. The air inside is cooler, the shadows deeper in the few flickering candle lights, and for a moment, you think you can almost breathe easier.

“Wait here,” he says, nodding towards a bench half-buried in dust. “There’s a process. Need to fill out a form.”

You blink. A form? The absurdity of it almost makes you laugh—almost. But you’re too tired for laughter, too worn down by the world to even consider the possibility of joy. So, instead, you sit with an exhausted plop. You watch as he disappears for a moment, hear the soft scrape of papers being shuffled, and then he’s back, clipboard in hand, a pencil poised like a weapon in his grip.

He doesn’t sit down. Just stands there, towering over you, his presence impressive but not oppressive. You glance up at him, and there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you feel exposed—not in a dangerous way, but in a way that makes you feel seen for the first time in a long time. It’s unsettling.

He clears his throat, eyes flicking to the clipboard. “Name?”

You give it to him. He writes it down, slow and thoughtful.

“Age?”

Again, you’re honest, coughing right after. He writes again, his eyes lifting to your face between each question as if checking to see if you’re lying, or maybe just to remind himself that you’re real.

“Where did you come from?”

You answer, though the place you once called home feels distant, like something from a dream you can’t quite remember. His pen scratches the paper, and you almost lose yourself in the sound of it, that soft, repetitive scrape, the only noise in the otherwise still part of the metro.

“Any medical conditions? Injuries?”

You shake your head, your body numb to the aches and pains that have become part of you, the exhaustion that’s settled into your bones as permanent as the sorrow for the destroyed outside world.

He writes.

The questions continue. And all the while, his eyes keep returning to you, scanning your face as if he’s trying to commit every line, every shadow, to memory. You can feel his gaze lingering on your skin, not in a way that makes you want to shrink or hide, but in a way that makes you want to ask why he’s looking at you like that, why his lips keep twitching into something that almost resembles a smile, sometimes a pout. 

After what feels like an eternity, he finishes writing, his pen stilling against the paper. You think he’s done, that maybe this bizarre interaction will end and you’ll be allowed to rest, to sleep, to breathe for just a moment.

But then he clears his throat again. And this time, when he looks at you, there’s something different in his eyes. Something you can’t quite place.

“There’s one more thing,” he says, and the air between you feels too much like outside, chocking and not fit for you. 

You stiffen. You feel that old familiar dread curling up inside your chest again, clawing at your ribs. You’ve been at this stage before, the formality of it, the false promises of security, of kindness. The moment where it all comes crashing down, where the mask slips and you’re left standing there, alone and defenceless against the greed, the hunger that always lurks just beneath the surface of those too desperate to remember what it means to be human.

He sees the shift in you. You know he does. You see it in the way his brow furrows, the way he toys with his lip piercings as though he’s searching for the right words, something to say that won’t make you bolt for the hermetic door. He takes a breath, and for a moment, you think you might run, you think you might grab your mask and take your chances with the toxic air outside because anything—anything—might be better than this.

But then, he speaks.

“I—” His voice falters, and you see the muscles in his throat work as he swallows. His grip on the clipboard tightens, the knuckles going white. “I want to… I want to eat you out.”

The words hit you like a shockwave. You blink, stunned, and for a moment, you’re not sure you heard him correctly. Did he really just—? 

You stare at him, your mind racing, trying to process the absurdity of it, the strangeness, the unexpectedness.

He’s looking at you now, eyes wide, almost pleading. There’s no threat in his posture, no demand. Just… want. Raw and unfiltered. Like he’s asking for something he shouldn’t even be allowed to ask, but he can’t help himself. His breath is shallow, and you can see the way his hands tremble slightly, the tension in his body like he’s bracing for you to reject him, to walk away.

And maybe you should. Maybe you should get up, leave this place, leave him behind, leave all of this strangeness and vulnerability and run back into the wasteland where at least the dangers are known, where the air is poison but the intentions are clear. But instead, you sit there, frozen in place, your mind spinning, your heart pounding in your chest as you look at him.

He’s not like the others. That much you know.

He’s so painfully handsome, a rare sight in this broken world, and it’s been so long—too long—since you’ve felt the heat of another body, since before the fallout turned everything to pure survival. 

So, when the chance arises, when you catch the hunger in his dark eyes and feel the thrumming ache in your own bones, you seize it like a lifeline in the endless wasteland. Your fingers tremble as you pull the zip of your protective suit down, the rough fabric parting like a sigh, and you free your legs, peeling it off your lower half. You shift on the bench, boots still clinging to your feet as you raise them to rest beside you, and open yourself to him, your legs spread wide, exposing your cunt like a silent offering, need pulsing through your veins.

Jungkook barely hesitates. The clipboard thrown, clattering to the ground behind him, forgotten, his focus now laser-sharp on the sight before him, his eyes flickering wildly between your face and the growing wetness glistening between your thighs. He steps forward with a pull that feels almost sacred, falling heavily to his knees as if the ground beneath him is the only place he belongs. His warm, calloused hands trace their way up your bare legs, the roughness of his skin sparking something primal under your own.

He leans in close, close enough that you can feel his breath ghosting over your slick skin. He takes a deep breath, inhaling you, and the word falls from his lips like a prayer, “Fuck,” and then he’s there, tongue pressing into you with a hunger that’s suffocating, lapping at your cunt as if he’s desperate to prove himself worthy of it, as if he knows exactly how lucky he is to be granted this wish. 

A moan escapes your throat, unbidden, as his tongue forces its way into the tight heat of your hole, your hand reaching instinctively for his dark hair, fingers threading through the strands as you push your hips into his eager mouth. The sound that rumbles from deep within his chest vibrates against you, a groan of raw pleasure that seems to send waves of newfound pleasure coursing through your body, arousal dripping from you, coating his tongue.

“Taste so good,” he rasps between breaths, his voice rough and broken with want. “Fucking angel sent from heaven.” His gaze flicks upward, catching yours, his eyes wide with disbelief, adoration simmering beneath the surface despite the fact that you’re strangers, despite the fact that the world outside has crumbled to nothing.

You find yourself moving against him, riding the flat of his tongue, his fingers dancing over your clit in a rhythm that feels almost divine. His other hand grips your thigh, fingers pressing into your flesh with a kind of desperation, as though he’s terrified that if he lets go, you’ll disappear, that this will vanish like a dream.

“Yes,” you cry out, breathless and shaking, as he finds the perfect pace, the perfect pressure, his mouth and hands working together with an almost agonising precision. And neither of you can tear your eyes away from the other, locked in this frantic, desperate exchange of need and lust and something deeper you can’t yet name.

He gives you everything—every ounce of affection and euphoria you’ve been deprived of for months—and you can feel it in the way his own body trembles, the way his hips move mindlessly against nothing, rutting into the air as though he’s just as desperate to be filled with pleasure as you are.

“I’m close,” you gasp, your hand tightening in his hair, pulling him harder against you, urging him on, desperate for more, for him to push you over that edge.

And he listens, his tongue working with relentless skill, circling your clit with a pressure so precise it almost drives you mad, and then you feel it—your orgasm tearing through you with an intensity that leaves you breathless, shockwaves rippling through your body as you squirt onto his tongue, something you’ve never done before, the surprise of it lost in the haze of pleasure. Jungkook groans beneath you, greedily lapping up everything you give him, cleaning you with his mouth like he never wants to stop, his hips stuttering forward as he spills into his pants, caught in his own silent climax.

“Fuck…” he moans thickly and long, collapsing against your stomach as your legs tremble and fall to the floor, muscles too weak to hold them up any longer.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, the silence between you filled only by the sound of your ragged breathing, the disaster of the world momentarily forgotten. But eventually, he pulls himself together, straightening up with a sheepish grin, adjusting his pants which are now damp with his own release, his expression cringing just slightly.

You quickly dress again, pulling your suit back into place, feeling a flush of heat creeping into your cheeks. There’s an embarrassment there, sure, but not disgust—not even close. If anything, there’s a strange sense of satisfaction, of relief, and you catch yourself hoping this won’t be the last time you see him, that he isn’t bored now that his hunger has been sated.

But as you reach for your pack, Jungkook’s voice breaks through the quiet, and he gestures for you to follow him deeper into the metro, his arm draping casually around your shoulders as if he can’t quite bring himself to stop touching you. “I’m Jungkook, by the way,” he says, a grin spreading across his face, his eyes bright with something that looks almost like joy—something you haven’t seen in anyone since the fallout. “You can stay with me if you want.”

There’s a pause, your heart skipping a beat at his offer, and you hesitate only for a second before whispering, “I’d like to stay with you, if that’s okay.”

He beams down at you, stars shining in his dark eyes like you haven’t seen in months, and he takes the opportunity to press a gentle kiss to your sweaty forehead. “Good,” he says softly. “I’d like that too.”

PART 2

[glossgojo]

hold me across every state line

joel miller x reader | 3.7k words

part 2 here

cw: 18+ MINORS DNI, age gap (obviously let’s be real), AFAB reader, fingering, slight pervy joel, pet names, multiple orgasms, choking, oral fem receiving, lingerie, porn with some plot, non-canon compliant, joel has feelings <3

you had been traveling with joel and ellie ever since philadelphia and as hard as you and joel had tried to ignore whatever was going on between you two, he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on you. you all arrive at jackson and feel like you can relax for a bit. it all comes to a head when you were changing and he caught a glimpse of fucking lingerie. joel miller feels like a teenage boy all over again just because of you.

a/n: def gotta a lil carried away, what can i say joel miller makes me FERAL. also beta version sorry i wrote this in a daze

it had been a month since you joined joel and ellie, you had grown fond of them both. your younger sister was ellie’s age before you lost her a couple years after the outbreak, it felt healing talking to her. ellie, in a lot of ways, was similar to you. unfortunately for joel that meant a lot more worrying than he admitted to. although he’d never admit it, he was quite fond of you and you were downright gone for the older man. it wasn’t like you had been single since the outbreak or before, but something about joel made your heart beat faster than ever and brought a smile to your face just from a mere thought about the grumpy man.

but you never labeled your feelings and neither did he, you both operated under a need to keep each other and ellie safe and that was it. ellie wasn’t dumb, she could see what was happening between you two. she also knew it was only a matter of time before you both gave in to whatever you were feeling. for now you three just acted out of survival instinct and that was enough. weeks morphed into months and winter was cruel to you three. you spent nights in joel’s arms, you both attributed it to feeling safer that way and for warmth of course. you never missed how sometimes you could feel his heart against your back, beating just as fast as your own. or when you would wake up before him and the sun shone down on his face, his expression would be relaxed and you could dream for a while about him looking at you like that. you hoped one day joel would let the pain he carried on his shoulders be lifted by ellie or even you.

when you all made it to jackson and joel reunited with his brother you felt like you could finally breathe again. although your body was always primed to fight and run, you couldn’t help but relax as maria treated you like a friend. she was kinder than anyone you had met since the outbreak, it all felt too good to be true. your suspicions were shared with joel and ellie. the three couldn’t relax even in the small condo tommy had given to you. maria had whisked ellie away to socialize with the other kids, saying how it would be good for her and far be it from you and joel to argue with her about it.

that left you and joel in a warm house with power and gas, feeling very out of place. the house had two rooms with two en-suite bathrooms, so naturally you and joel decided to share. joel was lying down on the bed, not fully asleep as he stared up at the ceiling planning the next steps in head. he had showered and changed into the clothes maria had dropped off, feeling like a new man. his mind raced at the possibilities of how to get ellie to the fireflies. you had spoke earlier about staying a little bit longer and collecting more information before setting out. he had disagreed, wanting to leave as soon as possible but you convinced him to stay, it would be better for ellie and especially him to spend more time with his brother and others. you also didn’t mind how relaxed joel looked when he was with his brother.

you were just getting out of the shower as you reached for a towel, drying off as you looked at the underwear maria had given you. you had blushed when you first saw it, clearly she thought you and joel were much more than friends after just a few minutes of interacting with her. you weren’t really sure why you decided to wear the lacy black panties and matching bra instead of the more sensible set, but maybe it was something about how maria had raised her eyebrow when you tried giving back the lingerie. you insisted it was nothing like that, but she had simply said, “are you sure because i think everyone else is?” instead of answering her you just snatched the clothes out of her hands and stalked back to the condo. you thought back about how you and joel interacted in front of her when you met.

“joel, say congrats.” ellie nudged joel in the elbow as you sat on the other side of him, making him move into your side slightly. joel looked to for you some sort of permission, you just nodded with a comforting smile on your face. you wanted him to know it was okay to be happy for his brother, that his brother still loved him and that his new life could have his big brother in it. joel’s hand that had been on your leg the entire dinner, squeezed your thigh in gratitude and as always you tried to swallow down the desire it shot through you. maybe you weren’t as successful as you thought in hiding the blush to you face, maybe maria had caught onto where his hand was and the reason behind your tinted cheeks.

you sighed and tried to shove the thoughts out of your mind, as you slightly opened the bathroom door and peeked through to see joel lying down with his eyes closed, a hand resting on his forehead, further obstructing his view. you took the chance to tiptoe to the closet and pick out some clothes to change into. unbeknownst to you joel had cracked his eyes upon the small creak of the floorboard and felt the air leaving his lungs at the sight of you.

joel had seen your body before, when rain made clothes cling to your skin or when you dipped into a clean river. but nothing compared to seeing your bare skin adorned in lacy black lingerie, a suggestion of fabric covered your ass and your breasts were pushed up as if to further torture him. joel felt all of his blood rush south and his heart beat pick up, he hated himself for silently peaking at you but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. he thought he was going a little bit insane when he watched you pull up a pair of jeans over your curves, jumping a little as they hugged your ass. his pants grew tight, his erection straining against the denim.

joel was on the precipice of losing his mind as you wrapped your arms around your chest and hugged yourself, your boobs pushing up and threatening his mental stability. joel had had enough at this point, his dick hard and heavy in his pants, aching to be touched. he sat up, making you flinch and wrap your arms around yourself tighter, not helping him much as you turned towards.

“how long does it take to choose a shirt sweetheart? do you need my help?” his voice was gruff and deep, you shivered at his tone noticing a clip to his voice. your heartbeat picked up as you raked over his expression, he looked more frustrated than anything else. and you didn’t miss how his eyes flicked between your chest and your eyes. it was now or never. you knew looking into brown eyes they were darkened by something you would see in your own.

“can you help me, please?” joel raised an eyebrow at your tone, like you were sure of yourself but still needed him. if joel were more confident in himself he would know that you were just as desperate for him as he was for you but he knew you could do better. you could definitely find someone younger and more suited for you. despite the rational part of his brain that knew better, he got off the bed and walked towards you. he didn’t stop until his chest was almost brushing against yours and he was towering over you. there was a slight flush to your lips and your breathing was fast enough to draw his attention to the rise and fall of your chest. he still let himself read into it, didn’t let himself dwell on the glossy look in your eyes or the way your lips were parted as if to take him in.

looking away from your gaze for a moment, joel pulled out a plain red t-shirt from the closet, meeting your gaze once again. you didn’t move to take it from his hands, just watched him expectantly and joel almost snapped the hanger in half from the hold he had on it. you wanted him to dress you. joel wasn’t sure if you were doing this to torture him or not but he sure as hell felt more desperate than he ever had. the last time he was this painfully hard from barely any stimulation was probably high school. he took your challenge instead, pulling the shirt off the hanger and flinging it to the side, he gently pulled the opening over your head, motioning for your hands to uncross and you followed quietly. you were practically drowning in the sensuality of being controlled by joel, exactly how you wanted. you had soaked through the thin fabric of your underwear as you gasped at the feeling of joel’s warm calloused hands against the soft skin of your arms. he pulled the shirt over your chest and you watched his darkened eyes travel over your body, his jaw clenching as he took in your curves.

“thank you.” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the air around you both. joel looked you up and down, as if assessing his work. he licked his lips as he remembered the sight from earlier, he felt himself leaking into his boxers, even more turned on from your small gasps and glazed eyes. you looked like a doe awaiting his shot, it drove him a little bit crazier. as much as you wanted to sink to you knees and take him into your mouth you wanted him to make the first move, wanted him to be as sure as you were that this wasn’t just one-sided. joel took one last look at your blown out pupils and glossy lips and decided that enough was enough, he had to make a decision right now.

“not sure about those pants though, doll.” your eyebrows knitted up from confusion, you looked down at them and back up at him. joel was endeared by the naivety in your expression, making good use of your confusion by looping a finger through the belt notch of your jeans and tugging you closer.

“i’d rather they were off.” he could see the words click in your pretty little head as the confusion was replaced by the desire he knew so well. you didn’t look away from his hungry gaze as you fumbled to undo the brass button of your pants. joel’s finger that was still curled into the notch, moved to cover your hand.

“let me, pretty girl.” you had to hold back a whine from his words, his gruff voice coupled with the pet name was grating against your sensibility, your underwear a complete mess from his words and presence alone. you were sure you would unravel if he touched you where you really needed him. joel undid your buckle with two fingers and pulled your pants down in one swift movement, causing you to yelp. he didn’t move as he watched you shiver from desire, he could almost laugh at how desperate you were. had you always been so gone for him? it wasn’t like he was much better though.

“j-joel please.” you choked out, you would do anything for him to touch you. you were on the verge of crying as he grinned at the pout on your lips.

“please what?” he stepped back, making a whine claw up your throat, you stepped towards without thinking.

“i need you.” joel nodded at the words, it wasn’t news to anyone, he needed you just as badly.

“come here.” joel moved to the bed, you followed obediently. when you sat down at the edge of the bed he pulled you by the hips, roughly moving you to lie down with your head on the pillows. he shifted himself to sit in front of your legs and your eyes widened as you realized what was about to happen. his rough large hands kneaded the soft flesh of your thighs, he took in the sight of your bare thighs and pretty cunt covered in lacy black material.

“did you wear these for me?” his hands were traveling up, parting your legs as they moved inwards. you loaned, back arching as you felt callouses rub your sensitive inner thighs. joel moved to sit down more comfortably, letting his thick thighs stretch you even more. he kept his hand on your left thigh, keeping you stretched wide. his other hand moved closer to your core, stopping when you didn’t answer his question.

“yes only for you.” you whined out, you had never sounded more desperate and foreign to yourself but you didn’t care you were completely lost to your desire. joel liked your answer, letting his hand tease the edge of your underwear, you twitched from his touch. he couldn’t help but scoff at how sensitive you were. he ripped a cry of his name from you when he pushed the fabric aside revealing glistening folds and a pool of liquid. he swore under his breath, wondering just how long you had been soaking through your underwear, sure enough he felt the fabric wet from your juices. joel wanted to deal this memory away, he knew he’d remember it any time his cock was in his hand. you squirmed from his gaze, whining for him to touch you, to do anything. joel snapped the band of your underwear against your skin, making you shut up.

“so fucking wet, is that all for me too?” joel didn’t think he could survive much longer without tasting you, moving to lay down between your thighs, you noticed immediately and it made you breath a little more rapidly.

“you drive me crazy joel, it’s always because of you, i’m yours.” you sat up on your elbows, looking at how his face was now hovering your hips. your words itched the part of joel’s brain that wanted you to be all his. he wasn’t proud of it but he wanted you to be his forever. without much warning, joel weaved his arms under your thighs and pulled you forwards, your cunt colliding with his nose. the small friction of his large nose against your clit made you moan out his name again. joel thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard, he loved how his name sounded coming out of your mouth. he wanted you to own it, wanted his name to be yours, he felt more possessive of you than ever. he rubbed his nose against your clit, breathing in the sweet smell of you, his lips and nose getting a bit wet just from your underwear. he kissed your cunt, ripping a strangled noise from your throat and he decided he wanted much more of those sounds as he pulled your underwear down, finally letting himself give in to his need to taste you. you were practically screaming his name as the cool air hit your clit.

joel didn’t waste time in spreading your legs wider and making them ache from the stretch, pulling your ass slightly into the air as he planted his lips right onto your core. his tongue licked one stripe from your clit down to where your arousal pooled. you tasted like peaches and heaven, and joel pulled you impossibly closer, he could barely breathe through his nose but it didn’t matter not when you tasted like everything he’d ever wanted and your ichor was painted on the back of his teeth. as much as he drank you in, the more you bloomed for him. you were squirming and screaming his name, begging for him to stop or keep going you weren’t sure. you could only think of his name, only feel him and only breathe him. his mustache and beard grated against your most sensitive parts, making you clench around him. joel’s tongue was inside you drinking you in like you were water and he was stuck in the desert for days. the sounds his mouth produced were obscene and they did nothing but drive you closer to your orgasm. you were rocking on his tongue, never having felt this good before. as you got closer, joel pulled out, his tongue still on your hole as his nose ground your clit. you cried at the feeling, fingers interweaving with his hair and tugging him against you. joel got the idea and brought his hand up to tease your clit as he went back to feasting on you. you felt yourself grow close, pulling his face against you, as you whined out his name. you came undone on his tongue, twitching into his mouth and joel drank in the wave of arousal it produced, never being satiated enough. finally when you were too sensitive for his tongue you tugged on his hair. joel removed his mouth with a pop and a string of your cum and his saliva connected him to you. his beard and mustache were glistening with your ichor and you felt arousal wash over you all over again, you still wanted to taste him, wanted his lips against yours and so you wove your hands around his neck and sat up to meet him halfway. joel climbed up, you wove your legs around his hips. joel’s lips were rough against you, but they tasted like you and you moaned into his lips. joel kissed you fervently as if he had not just tasted you, like it wasn’t enough and his facial hair rubbed against your skin. your cum was coating both of your faces by the time you pulled back for air. joel put more of his weight against you and you felt his clothed hard on press against your core, making you whine and grab at his shirt to pull him closer. “joel please, want you inside.”

just from what you felt pressed against you, you knew he was big and you salivated at the feeling. you were getting wet just thinking about having him inside you. joel watched your fucked out expression and puffy lips and decided against his urge to fuck you even dumber. he told himself he had time, you weren’t like the others, this was different you wouldn’t just disappear.

“next time, doll, can you come for me again?” you nodded, tears welling in your eyes as desire mixed with your need to be close to him. joel moved off of you, drawing a whimper from you, he interwove his fingers with yours, calming your nerves and you sighed contently. joel didn’t know how you could be so damn endearing and seductive at the same time. with his free hand he pushed you up the bed by your hip, until you were sitting up with your back against the bed-frame. he found his home between your legs, spreading one with his hand the other still holding yours. he used his knee to press against the inner flesh of your thigh, pinning it there and stretching you wide open. you whined at the feeling, although he was the one between your thighs you felt caged in. he was towering over your frame as your back pressed against the cold metal frame. finally when the whine left your mouth, he let go of your hand moving it south as he looked you in the eyes. his hand teased the seam of your cunt, he chuckled at the feeling of you so wet all over again. there was a bead of arousal at your opening, ready for him to please you all over again. he couldn’t get enough of you. without any warning he pressed two fingers into you, plunging them deep and feeling you clench around them. Your breath came out in a huff as you looked up to him with desperation in his eyes. joel curled his fingers facing his palm upwards as he felt for the spot that made you unravel and when he did you struggled against his grasp and pushed against his knee to close on his hands. you gasped out his name and joel laughed at the tears forming in your eyes. he plunged into your soaking cunt again and again. setting a brutal pace and just when you felt close enough he slowed down, he shut up your babbling with a harsh kiss to your mouth. it was teeth and tongues clashing against each other, but the desire and desperation you felt was reciprocated in the way he kissed you. you kissed until your lungs screamed for air and when you were about to pull away, joel plunged three fingers into, you gasped into his mouth. pulling away as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and joel littered your neck with kisses and bites. he marked you as he wanted, made sure everyone knew who you belonged to. you were gushing around his fingers, he added a fourth finger and you screamed his name. if the blooming marks on your neck weren’t enough, the whole community would hear your screams. you started begging when he abused the spot that made your mind go blank, all you could feel was intense burning desire and all you could say was “please joel.” like it was a prayer.

your prayers were answered when his thumb ground against your clit and you came on his hand. you slumped forward, joel catching you as he moved his hand from your thigh and brought his soaked fingers up to his mouth. he wanted to memorize your taste, licking his fingers clean before pressing a kiss to your lips. you let him kiss you, you were spent now and your mind numb from pleasure. joel helped you lay down and cleaned you up as much as he could, he put your underwear in his pocket, he had to deal with his hard-on after you fell asleep. joel combed his fingers through your hair, as you relaxed into the bed. you fell asleep breathing in the scent of his shampoo on the pillow-sheet and the feeling on his fingertips scraping your scalp.

[beggars-opera]

Hey, so we don't talk enough about A Christmas Carol as being at least a little bit about not continuing a cycle of abuse and neglect, both against others and yourself.

In the book little Scrooge is left languishing over the holidays in a boarding school for some never-explained reason, but it is made very clear that this is miserable and unfair, and that his father is doing this on purpose. His sister specifically comes to tell him that "father is so much kinder now than he used to be, that home's like heaven." This also reflects a bit of Dickens's own childhood when his father went into debtor's prison and little Charlie was forced to support his family working full time in a shoe-blacking factory at the age of 12 (which is also why so many of his books seem to have a moral of "hey, kids are people too and maybe we shouldn't make them work in the mines.")

Whatever family reunion happened after didn't work out, because Scrooge continues believing that no one is coming to save him and pulling himself up by his bootstraps at the detriment of all other social relationships is the only way forward. And the more he lives by that philosophy, the more miserable he gets, because obviously he pushes away anyone who has that hope that he lost. They threaten to break down the walls he's built and teach him that a big pile of money doesn't have to be the only thing that he can rely on, if he'd just let himself be vulnerable and have a relationship with people who care about him, because they're out there even if he's ignoring them.

There is a certain type of person still very much out there who thinks this way. "I've never been happy in my life, so no one else has a right to be either. I was abused in my childhood so it's only fair that everyone else suffer as well." We see this in parents who still try to use corporal punishment, and in wealthy people who ignore the social factors keeping others down and scream that everyone else is just entitled, that only those who suffer and scrape deserve happiness. And they especially hate the people like Fred who represent the past that could have been, who have maintained hope for the future, and seem to be rubbing their optimism in your face, when in reality they're just maintaining hope because it's the only way you can survive.

It's so important for Scrooge to actually see the impact this thinking has on both himself and multiple generations. Rich people have this weird hangup about this story because they think Scrooge is bad because he's rich. He's not, he's bad because he's a horrible person and a miser - he doesn't use his money to better anything, including himself. Salting the earth, everyone suffers here, including him. And he learns that he's going to die old and alone without ever having spent or enjoyed his money, and that his family feels sorry for him, and that the nameless masses of poor people out there that he decries so much are in fact living, breathing people, including tiny disabled kids who don't deserve to suffer just because you decided life isn't fair.

In the end he takes responsibility for actually uplifting the people in the next generation who are trying to make the world a better place and no longer punching down, because it doesn't have to be this way. So many people out there just give up hope because things are hard and they think trying to improve things is a pointless exercise that makes them look dumb. How dare you grow a year older and not an hour richer! How dare you marry for love! That's the only thing more ridiculous than a Merry Christmas! When in reality, there are plenty of people who would love to see them happy if they just had a chance.

It's really sad that, while the language used to describe it has changed, these problems still persist. That people feel so wronged and isolated that they spend their days ensuring everyone else will be as well. That they fail to see their fellow humans as fellow humans who are just as deserving of love and kindness and a roof over their heads. I don't care what time of year it is, we should all be lifting each other up rather than tearing each other down.

[arc852]

Abandoned and Found

Summary: Skizz is ten years old with a father who hates him. One day, his father tricks him and leaves him to be found and caught by the human kid. It's a death sentence, but thankfully, Impulse is a lot kinder than Skizz had been anticipating.

Warnings: fear, abuse, child abuse, neglect, leaving a child to die, parent blaming child for other parent's death, crying, and panic

Word Count: 6008

AO3 Link

It's time for Impulse and Skizz's backstory in the bbbcau! Here we go! I hope you guys enjoy!

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 Skizz was not wanted.

 It was hard to not see that, with the way his father ignored him time and time again. Over time, Skizz learned to like being ignored. Because if he was being ignored, then that meant he wasn’t being hurt. 

 You would think that borrowers would treat their kids better. Wouldn’t turn to the same hatred or neglect that some humans did with their own kids. Borrowers were so few and far between after all. Each borrower child should be treated with the utmost care and love.

 That’s what should have been the case. But it wasn’t for Skizz.

 So, one day, when Skizz was barely ten, his father told him he was coming along on his borrowing trip. Skizz wasn’t sure what to think but part of him, the part that always longed for his father’s approval, hoped this was the start of something better. That maybe his dad had realized where he was wrong and that Skizz was useful. That Skizz could help him.

 Skizz’s excitement grew as he grabbed his borrowing bag, unused until now, and followed his father out of their little home and through the tunnels in the walls. Skizz tried catching up with his dad, falling in line with him for just a moment before his dad turned to him with narrowed eyes. Skizz tensed and paused, falling back behind his father before walking again, his head a bit lower this time.

 Still, he didn’t let that get him down. His dad was finally trusting him with a borrowing run. He could prove himself here and show his dad he was worth keeping around.

 Skizz hesitated as they made it to the wall’s exit, the open area of the house waiting for them beyond the small hole. His father sent him a look as he went through and Skizz bit back his nerves as he followed. The sheer scale of everything never failed to make Skizz’s knees weak. 

 They appeared to be in a bedroom and underneath a desk. Skizz went over to the leg of the desk and looked around the room as much as he could. It was empty, thankfully, but as he glanced at the bed pushed up against the wall and the toys decorating the shelves and floor, Skizz realized they were in the human child’s bedroom.

 Skizz blinked and looked over toward his father, wondering what it was they needed to borrow from the kid’s room of all places. It was sort of an unspoken rule that you didn’t go anywhere where kids were likely to be. And their bedroom was the main one off limits.

 “Dad, why are we-” Skizz was cut off by a harsh shush from his dad and Skizz quickly shut his own mouth. His father glared at him before turning away and motioning for Skizz to follow as he moved away from underneath the desk.

 Skizz swallowed thickly but followed close behind, his hold tightening on his bag as his eyes darted around the room, half expecting the human kid to jump out at any moment. The room was empty though and he and his father continued to walk until they reached the nightstand near the bed.

 His father remained silent even as he dug into his bag and pulled out his hook. Skizz simply watched, a bit mesmerized as he watched his dad unfold the string before winding it up and throwing it to the top of the nightstand. It wasn’t until he noticed his father’s glare that Skizz realized he was meant to do the same.

 Skizz tensed and scrambled to get his hook and string out, nerves alight as he realized it had gotten tangled together. He heard his father huff angrily as he tried to untie the knots and glanced up to see his father already climbing up the string. Skizz bit his lip and tried going faster, finally untying all the knots and unfurling his hook from the string completely. He had no time to waste, so he swung the hook around his head and threw it up.

 By some miracle, it hit its mark on Skizz’s first try.

 Skizz grinned and looked up toward his father. His grin faltered as his father, now at the top of the nightstand, simply stared down at him with crossed arms, his foot tapping against the wood impatiently. Skizz lowered his head a bit and tugged on the string to make sure it was secure. When it didn’t come undone, he started the climb up.

 Skizz wasn’t as skilled or seasoned as his dad in climbing, so it took him a bit longer to shimmy up the string and haul himself up and onto the nightstand. His dad barely passed him a glance as he headed over toward the edge of the nightstand that was facing out into the room. Skizz bent down to collect his hook and string but his father stopped him.

 “Leave it.” He said roughly and Skizz did, snapping his hand back and standing back up. He turned away from it and followed his dad over to where he was. 

 “Help me open this.” He said, again not even looking over at Skizz. Skizz came closer and realized his dad needed help opening the drawer of the nightstand. His father currently had his feet against the lip of the drawer as his hands laid flat on the nightstand behind him for leverage. Skizz copied his position and together they both pushed until the drawer was open enough where they could slip through and then some.

 Skizz scrambled back as to not fall in and stood up, going a little bit closer to peer over the edge and into the drawer. He expected to see some paper clips or pencils, maybe some tissue paper. But to his surprise, the drawer was empty.

 “Wait, but then what-?” Once again, Skizz was cut off by his father. But instead of it being from a shush or a glare, Skizz felt himself being pushed. Skizz fell with a cry, landing in the drawer with a quiet thud. The drop hadn’t been too big but it still hurt and it still left him a bit winded. He recovered fast though, the adrenaline of the moment giving him the strength to push himself up and turn himself over, looking up at his father with wide eyes as he did nothing but stare down at him. 

 “D-Dad, what...?” Skizz tried to get out because…well, he must be imagining things right? His dad hadn’t pushed him. That was-that was absurd. He must have just slipped and fell in himself. Right?

 But he remembers feeling something press against his back, pushing him into the drawer. And seeing the look on his father’s face made him shiver in realization. But before Skizz could say anything more, question him further, his dad spoke.

  “I tried. I really did.” His father said, turning his head away from Skizz for a moment. He seemed to stare off into the distance before shaking his head and turning back to glare down at Skizz. Which caused Skizz to flinch. “But each passing day you started to look more and more like her.” His father grit his teeth, his glare burning with anger and hatred, more hatred than Skizz had ever seen. “And you don’t deserve to look like her. The only reason she’s even gone is because of you.”

 Skizz swallowed the forming lump in his throat at his father’s words. He knew he was talking about his mother. He knew all his father’s past aggressions toward Skizz was because his father believed it was Skizz’s fault that his mother had died. In truth, his mom had died giving birth to him. And with how much his father constantly reminded him of this fact, Skizz couldn’t help but believe him. It was his fault his mother had died.

 But he never would have thought his father would take things this far. With the way he was speaking, it sounded like his dad planned on leaving him in here.

 “Dad, please, I-I don’t…I’m sorry-” Skizz tried but was once again cut off and ignored.

 “At least now I’ll get some peace. I won’t have to see her eyes haunting me everywhere you go.” His dad sounded final but Skizz couldn’t just leave it like that. If he was left here, he would surely be caught.

  Maybe he could use that. His dad obviously didn’t care about him. He was seeing that now, should have seen that before. And he had, he had just stupidly chosen to ignore it. But while his dad might not have cared about him, he had to at least care about the secrecy and safety of all borrower-kind, right? “You're…You’re just going to risk borrowers being discovered?” Skizz said with a shaky voice, trying hard not to cry. “If I’m found then…then you’re putting yourself at risk too!”

 But his reasoning fell flat as his father just huffed. And what he said next made Skizz’s blood run cold.

“He’s a kid, and a little boy at that. He’ll probably kill you before he even realizes you're alive.” His father said it so casually, as if he wasn’t talking about leaving his son to die.

 Oh god, he was leaving Skizz here to die.

 Skizz watched as his father turned around and started to walk away and out of sight. His eyes widened, realizing this was really happening. “Dad, wait! Please don’t leave me here! Please! Dad!” Skizz yelled, tears falling from his face. But his dad didn’t so much as answer. Skizz could vaguely hear the sound of his dad climbing back down to the ground using his hook and string. And Skizz could only assume he was taking Skizz’s own back with him as well.

 “Dad…” Skizz attempted one last time, his voice trailing off as he realized his dad was probably gone. He choked on his next breath as he sobbed, rubbing at his eyes to stop the constant stream of tears. His dad had left him and now he was going to be caught and killed by a human kid. 

 He didn’t want to die.

 He wasn’t sure how much time had passed after that. His tears had stopped a while ago but his heart still raced at the thought of what would happen to him whenever the human kid got back home. He curled himself up into a ball in the far corner of the drawer, nothing to do but wait and dread.

 It both felt long and not long enough when Skizz finally heard the door to the bedroom open. Skizz’s breath hitched and he looked out toward the opening of the drawer with wide eyes, despite the fact he couldn’t see anything more than the ceiling from this angle.

 “Make sure you get your homework done first!” A faint, female voice yelled from somewhere beyond the bedroom. 

 “I know, I will!” This voice was so much closer and louder but otherwise not unlike his own in the sense of how young it sounded. Skizz could feel himself shaking at the voice, at the very little distance between himself and the human kid. 

 As he heard the door to the room shut, he knew it wouldn’t be much longer.

 He almost just wanted to curl up and ignore everything, let his death come as a surprise. At least then it might feel quick to him. But instead, he couldn’t help but strain his ears for any sort of sound. Any indication that the human was getting closer. He heard the sound of a bag rustling and some papers moving along with some footsteps. But as those sounds grew slightly louder, they suddenly all stopped.

 “Huh?” Skizz heard the human say and Skizz held his breath, his eyes never leaving the gap. “That’s weird, I could have sworn I left this closed…” The human continued and then slowly, but surely, a towering figure came into Skizz’s view, overtaking the ceiling and making it so that all he could see was the human’s face as he peered inside the drawer.

 Skizz couldn’t move as the human’s eyes widened in shock.

 “What the…?” The human started and suddenly Skizz was jerked as the human opened the drawer more, pulling him into the light of the room. He fell onto his back at the sudden motion and opened his eyes just in time to see the giant hand coming straight for him.

 “N-No!” Skizz shouted, bringing his arms up and trying to shield himself despite knowing it wouldn’t do anything. If the human wanted to grab him, the human would grab him. 

 He expected to be grabbed at any moment but when several seconds passed and still nothing happened, Skizz hesitantly lowered his arms enough to peek up and over them. The hand was gone but the human’s face was closer now, watching him with furrowed brows. 

 “Sorry.” The human said, his voice low. “Are you…okay?”

 Skizz blinked and almost jumped when his vision blurred, only to realize a moment later that he was crying. Again. He tried to wipe his tears away, he needed to be able to see. He needed to know when the human would make his move. But more tears simply replaced the ones he wiped away and his vision was still a blurry, wavy mess.

 “Oh geez…” He heard the human mutter and that was all the warning Skizz got before he finally felt what he had been dreading. The human’s hand curled around him and Skizz forwent trying to stop his tears to thrash against the grip. He pushed and kicked against the massive fingers but they barely even flinched against them.

 His arms got caught within the grasp and as the human solidified his grip they got pinned to his sides. “L-Let me go!” Skizz cried but his voice was too shaky and thick from his cries. After a moment, Skizz fell limp, knowing everything was fruitless. The human had him and there was nothing Skizz could do about it.

 As he was lifted out of the drawer, the human spoke again. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” He sounded…panicked? That was weird and not at all what Skizz had been expecting.

 He also wasn’t expecting to feel himself settle on something solid either.

 He opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) just as he felt the grip around his body leave. His tears still blurred his vision but he could at least make out the fact that he was now back on top of the nightstand. He looked back up at the human as he suddenly started to speak.

 “Sorry, I just, I didn’t really know what else to do. I-I figured you wanted out of there but…I mean, you’re crying and I just…” the human looked sheepish, maybe even a bit guilty. “I’m sorry.” He said, this time in a low tone that was much more mumbled than before. “I should have asked first…especially since you had already shouted at me to stop.” The human winced at that, as if just remembering that had happened.

 Skizz took in several deep breaths and once again tried wiping away his tears. Thankfully, no other tears followed this time and his vision cleared up. It did nothing to lessen his fear though, in fact, it almost made it worse to see the human so clearly looming over him. But then, as if reading his mind, the human lowered himself down so that he was now eye level with him. It wasn’t much better, but it was something.

 “Are you okay?” The human asked once again and though Skizz still felt shaky with fear and like his heart was going to jump out of his chest, he answered.

 “N-Not really…” Skizz said quietly, his voice somewhat back to normal now that his sobs had subsided. 

 The human winced at his answer. “I’m sorry.” The human bit his lip and Skizz could tell he didn’t really know what else to do. “Is there…can I do anything to help?”

 Skizz was so confused. Why would the human want to help him? Why wasn’t he being grabbed again? In fact, why had the human put him down in the first place? Everything he had ever heard about humans told him that they wouldn’t hesitate to grab you, or keep you, or play with you, or kill you…there were so many things a human could do.

 But not once had Skizz ever heard of a human being kind.

 Skizz felt like he was being tricked.

 He narrowed his eyes at the human and scooted back, putting more distance between the two of them. Not that it mattered when the human could just reach out and grab him from wherever he ended up on the nightstand but the distance still made him feel a bit better. “L-Leave.” Skizz answered, his voice shaky with fear as he made his request known.

 The human looked sad at what Skizz said but to Skizz’s utter shock, the human nodded. “Okay…if that’s what will help.” The human then stood up and turned around, walking back towards his door.

 Skizz watched him walk away with wide eyes, his brain trying to process what was happening here. The human…listened to him? The human was leaving just like Skizz asked and it didn’t seem to be a trick. It couldn’t be, not with the way the human was fully leaving Skizz alone.

 Skizz didn’t know why but he scrambled up to a stand and yelled over to the human before his hand was even on the doorknob. “Wait!” Skizz almost felt his knees give out as the human looked back at him, but he stood firm and looked the human in the eyes.

 The human stared back, looking at him expectantly and Skizz was having a hard time finding the words. Any words. Why had he stopped the human from leaving? This had been his chance to escape and now he had ruined it. But as he tore his gaze away from the human and looked out over the nightstand, he realized with a growing dread that he would not be able to get down on his own. His father really had taken his hook and string and without it, there was no way he would be able to climb down.

 So, it looked like he needed the human’s help after all. But it wasn’t just that. He wanted-no, needed to know why the human was asking how he was. Why this human was turning everything he had ever been taught about humans on its head.

 Skizz took a deep breath, trying to appear much more put together, and bigger, than he actually was. “Why are you…not…I mean, why are you…” Skizz hated that he couldn’t get the words out. The human titled his head and stepped closer, causing Skizz to take a step back. The human stopped short, looking sad and Skizz’s eyes widened. “That! Why do you keep doing that?!”

 The human blinked, looking down at himself as if that would give him the answer to what Skizz meant. “Doing…what?”

 Skizz huffed. “You keep…listening to me. You grabbed me but then you let me go and apologized and I don’t…I don’t understand…” Skizz’s shoulders rose up to meet his chin and he turned away.

 “Oh…” The human stood there, looking sadly at Skizz. “I mean…why wouldn’t I?”

 And Skizz…really didn’t have an answer for that.

 He had heard so many horror stories of humans doing terrible things to borrowers but there was never a reason why they did those things. Not a real one anyway. His father always waved him off and said that was just what humans did. Borrowers were smaller than them, weaker, and so they took advantage of that.

 But that never really made any sense. After all, Skizz always thought if he was human and found someone smaller than him that he would help them and treat them well.

 Just like what this human was doing.

 “Well…thank you for getting me out of the drawer.” Skizz said, grateful despite how it had happened.

 The human looked surprised but nodded and then looked sheepish once again. “Of course, uh…sorry again for just grabbing you though.”

 Skizz swallowed once again at the, what? Third apology? It was strange but Skizz realized it was not strange in a bad way. “It’s okay.” Skizz said quietly, looking down. “You…didn’t know.” Honestly, what else could he have done in that situation? Skizz hadn’t planned on calming down any time soon after all.

 “Um, I’m Impulse, by the way.” The human, Impulse, said with a slight hesitant laugh. “What’s…your name?”

 Oh. Wow. Even after the strangeness of this interaction he hadn’t been expecting for the human to ask for his name. For Impulse to ask for his name. “Skizz.” He said simply, a very faint smile on his face.

 Impulse had a bigger smile after learning Skizz’s name but it soon turned hesitant again. “It’s really nice to meet you. Um…did you still want me to leave?” Impulse asked, pointing to the door behind him. Skizz had almost forgotten he had asked that of Impulse.

 “No.” Skizz said and looked back over toward the edge of the nightstand again. “Actually, can I get your help off this nightstand?�� If Impulse was willing to do that, he could get back into the walls no problem.

 Impulse perked up. “Oh, yeah of course!” Impulse stepped closer until Skizz was within reach. Skizz tried his best to not flinch back. Just because he figured Impulse wasn’t going to hurt him, didn’t mean he no longer had his fear of Impulse’s size. Impulse hummed and then carefully set his hand down, palm up, a few inches away from where Skizz stood. Skizz looked at the offered hand and then back up at Impulse. Impulse smiled. “I figured this would be better than grabbing you again.”

 Skizz was very thankful for that. He nodded and came up to the hand, hesitating slightly before stepping on. He crouched as Impulse started to move, the hand lifting into the air and then slowly lowering all the way to the ground. Skizz’s stomach did flips but otherwise the ride was smooth. As soon as the hand hit the ground, Skizz was off of it, back on solid ground.

 He turned to look at Impulse, his gaze appreciative. “Thank you.”

 Impulse nodded and then bit his lip. “Will I…ever see you again?”

 Skizz tensed and looked back toward his entrance into the walls. “I…don’t know.” He wondered if knowing that would change Impulse’s mind. Thankfully, Impulse just nodded.

 “Well, you are always welcome back.” Impulse said and then stood up and walked over to his desk to start on his homework. He figured Skizz would want to go off wherever it was without Impulse watching him. And he was right, Skizz was thankful for the lack of peering eyes.

 With Impulse at his desk, Skizz instead turned toward the bed, where he knew another entrance was, and rushed toward it. As soon as he was back in the walls, everything came crashing down on him all over again. He had gotten so caught up in how Impulse was acting and such that everything else had gotten pushed out of his head. Until right now, when things were calm again. He remembered how his father had led him out into Impulse’s room and pushed him into a drawer with the intent to-to leave him for dead.

 It was only because Impulse was kind that his plan didn’t turn out.

 But despite everything awful about his father, he…he still found himself seaking the man’s approval. Maybe, if he went back and his dad saw that Skizz was okay, that Skizz got away from the human, then maybe his father would think he was something after all.

 It was a longshot but Skizz couldn’t help but hold onto that little bit of hope.

 Skizz rushed through the walls, going down the familiar winding paths as he finally made it to the little corner they called home. He took a deep breath, but as he entered, he froze in the makeshift doorway, his eyes wide as he took in everything.

 It was a mess. Nothing like how they had left it before going out. Their home had been ransacked, everything was toppled over and broken or just completely gone. Skizz walked through the house, feeling numb as he noticed what kinds of things were broken or missing.

 All the food they had saved up in their reserve was gone or completely ruined. Squashed and too dirty even for a borrower to eat. All the makeshift furniture throughout the home was broken and flung all over the place but the worst of it all was in Skizz’s room.

 The sock he used to sleep in was cut in such thin stripes there would be no way Skizz could ever repair it. His other set of clothes were the same, cut and scattered around, though with his clothes Skizz noticed some of the pieces of fabric that had been cut out were just missing altogether. His wall had a fairly large hole through it and the dent had him looking at the toy block he used as a table. Which was far from where he had left it before.

 And finally, his hook and string, which were left in the middle of his messed up room, was destroyed as well. The hook part was bent so out of shape and the string was cut not once but 18 different times. Skizz counted, his numb mind latching onto the numbers to try and ground himself.

 He fell to his knees in the middle of his room and felt his tears fall yet again. He had lost track of how many times he had cried today. His tears fell and his lip wobbled and he couldn’t stop the sobs that escaped him as he bent over his knees, hugging himself tightly and wondering what he had ever done to deserve this.

 His dad hated him so much that in the off chance he had escaped from the human, he had ruined Skizz’s chance to ever survive.

 Skizz cried harder.

***

 Skizz wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that but eventually his tears dried and his throat was too sore to continue. He stood up and slowly realized he…he couldn’t stay here. There was nothing left for him, nothing he could use to try and make his own way. And even if there was, Skizz wouldn’t be able to stay here anyway. There were too many painful memories, every broken piece of their lives reminded him too much of his father.

 It took everything Skizz had to leave the only home he had ever known. Empty handed except for the clothes on his back and the borrowing bag still wrapped around his shoulder, he left his old home behind, not looking back as he made his way through the halls of the wall once again.

 Skizz wasn’t even sure where he was going until he stopped at one of the exits and realized it led into Impulse’s room. Skizz grabbed tightly at the strap of his bag and looked down. His body was shaking but…Impulse had been kind to him. So much kinder than anything Skizz had ever experienced before. At the very least, maybe Impulse would help him move.

 And at the most…

 Skizz took a deep breath and exited the walls, finding himself in Impulse’s room once again, underneath his bed. He looked out into the room, noticing Impulse was still at his desk, still scribbling away at his homework. Skizz looked up toward the window, realizing the light outside was fading quickly.

 He walked a bit, walked until he was no longer underneath the bed and then closer still to Impulse and his desk before pausing in the middle of the room and speaking up. “I-Impulse?” He called out. He didn’t think he had been loud enough at first but Impulse was quick to turn around. His eyes scanned the floor until the human’s gaze landed on Skizz. Skizz froze involuntarily before forcing himself to unfreeze. Impulse had already proven that he was nothing like the stories his father had told Skizz about.

 “Skizz! You’re back.” Impulse said and then carefully got out of his chair before kneeling down on the ground a few feet away from Skizz. “But I thought…” Impulse trailed off as he noticed the look on Skizz’s face. Haunting and sad. Impulse frowned, his eyebrows furrowed. “Skizz? Is…everything okay?”

 That alone was almost enough to make Skizz cry again but he held it back and walked forward. He kept walking until he was right in front of Impulse. Impulse looked like he wanted to say something else but all the words left him as Skizz leaned forward and pressed his face into Impulse’s knee.

 Impulse’s eyes widened. “Skizz…” Impulse’s hand reached out but he hesitated. Skizz didn’t though. The borrower looked to see where Impulse’s hand was and moved closer to it, inviting Impulse to meet him halfway. Impulse wrapped his hand around Skizz and Skizz buried himself within the fingers. The feeling was overwhelming but also warm and safe and Skizz needed that right now. Needed it more than he could properly convey.

 Impulse scooped Skizz up and lifted him until Skizz was chest level, He then hesitated a moment before moving his hand closer to his chest in the best hug Impulse could do with someone so small. Skizz took the opportunity to bury himself again, this time into Impulse’s chest.

 “What happened?” Impulse asked softly and Skizz didn’t think he could say. Not now. Not yet. So instead, he asked something else.

 “Can I stay with you…please?” His words were soft, quiet, because any louder and Skizz was scared he would burst into tears again and he had had enough crying for one day already.

 Impulse’s grip got ever so slightly tighter. “Yeah…of course.”

 Skizz had never felt more relieved.

***

 “Skizz?”

 Skizz was brought back to the present by the sound of Impulse’s voice, the present, adult Impulse who he had known for years at this point. He blinked and looked up to meet Impulse’s gaze. He was currently sitting on his thigh, using his stomach as a backrest. The two had been just hanging out, enjoying each other's company as Impulse had finished up some homework. Impulse’s head was titled, his expression curious.

 “You alright there buddy?” Impulse asked and Skizz blinked again before nodding. He hadn’t realized how into his own memories he had been.

 “Yeah, sorry. I was just…thinking.” Skizz said, wondering if he should tell Impulse what exactly he had been thinking about or not.

 Impulse hummed a bit but he didn’t turn back to his homework. “...What were you thinking about?” 

 Skizz hesitated for a long moment, before sighing. “...My dad.”

 Impulse’s expression quickly turned to concern. “Skizz…”

 “And about how we first met.”

 Impulse stopped and looked at Skizz with wide eyes. “Really?”

 Skizz chuckled. “Yeah, it just so happens that my dad is a big part of that…” Skizz was glad he had met Impulse, obviously. But he wished it had been in any other way. He hated thinking about his dad in any context and it sucked that meeting his best friend for the first time had been ruined by that.

 Skizz sighed, looking away from Impulse. “I'd much rather think about the day after we first met.” He said, a slight smile appearing on his lips. “When I had woken up on that little makeshift bed made from a dishcloth you had scrounged up from somewhere.” Skizz thought back to the memory fondly. “I was still scared at that point, even though it had been my choice to come back and ask to stay with you, I was still scared of your size…and maybe of you changing your mind. But then you woke up and looked at me with those wide and kind eyes of yours, and…I had felt a warmth rush into my chest that I had honestly never felt before that moment.”

 Skizz knew, now, that what he had felt back then had been love. Love from his now best friend. That was what Skizz liked to remember the most. The first time he had ever felt like he was loved.

 The fact that it was by a human, a being who he had been taught since birth to fear and despise, and not from his own father, was more than a bit ironic.

 “Aww, Skizz…” Impulse said, eyes alight with fondness. Before Skizz could react he was being scooped up by Impulse and held up to chest level. “I didn’t know you had felt like that. I mean, I could tell you were still a bit scared back then but I didn’t realize…” Impulse trailed off with a small smile. He nudged Skizz gently with his thumb and Skizz leaned into the touch.

 “Impulse, you were the first person to ever show me love.” Skizz said, feeling a bit vulnerable admitting to that out loud but wanting his friend to know how much them meeting had meant to Skizz. “My father hated me for things completely out of my control. And I…I didn’t deserved that.” Something Skizz had learned and accepted fairly recently thanks to Impulse’s help.

 “You didn’t.” Impulse said, his tone firm. “And if I ever cross paths with your dad I’m gonna show him-”

 “Impulse.” Skizz said with a raised brow.

 Impulse coughed into his free hand. “Right. Sorry.”

 Skizz chuckled. “I appreciate the sentiment buddy but I don’t think we’re ever going to cross paths with him anyway.” In fact, he may never cross paths with any borrower ever again. The closest he had gotten was seeing the abandoned home in the walls, telling him a borrower had been here before. 

 “I know, part of me just likes thinking about avenging you and getting back at him. For everything he did to you.” Impulse said, looking into the distance with barely concealed anger in his tone. Skizz was unfazed though, knowing the anger was never directed at him.

  “It’s in the past.” Skizz said, with a small smile as he caught Impulse’s eyes again. “Besides, I have you and that’s all that matters to me.”

 “Geez.” Impulse said, a slight flush on his cheeks that Skizz noticed and laughed at. “So sappy.” Impulse teased but his fond smile told Skizz all he needed to know.

 “Oh really? And who’s the one who wants to avenge me again?” Skizz asked as he crossed his arms, a smug look on his face. Impulse sent him a look and then smirked as he reached his pointer finger down and ruffled Skizz’s hair like crazy. Skizz yelped and pushed Impulse’s finger off of him, which Impulse moved as soon as he felt Skizz push up at him, and then tried his best to fix his hair.

 “You jerk!” Skizz shouted, still trying to smooth his hair out.

 Impulse laughed and Skizz couldn’t help but join in. They settled back down and Impulse set Skizz on his shoulder so the borrower could lean against his neck and have a better view of the laptop as Impulse saved and exited out of his essay, opening up netflix to find something for them to watch. It was time Impulse had a break from homework anyway.

 “What made you start thinking about all that anyway?” Impulse asked as he set everything up. Skizz shrugged despite knowing Impulse couldn’t see him.

 “Not sure honestly…” Skizz admitted, scooting further into Impulse’s warmth. “It just…popped into my head for some reason.”

 Impulse hummed. “Weird.” He clicked a few more buttons on his laptop. “Well, if you ever need a distraction from those kinds of memories, you know I’m always here.”

 “I know.” Skizz smiled. “I know.”

[actuallysaiyan]

We Can Do Whatever You Want To Do(Ishida Uryu x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, handjob, talk about virginity, kissing, alcohol, semi-public sex, Uryu and Reader are in University word count: 1.3k pairings: Uryu Ishida x Fem!Reader summary: you and Uryu are in the same classes in university and you thought at first his arrogance and attitude pissed you off, but it turns you on. taglist: @beneathstarryskies. @seireiteihellbutterfly @misty-angerose. @yeowangies a/n: My first time writing Uryu, so I hope it's good <3

You met him when you were in your first year of university. Whispers of his academic excellence and many scholarships due to his achievements follow him around, though he doesn’t show any kind of real reaction to it. You found yourself so intrigued by Uryu.

After a few months of being in the same classes as him and trying to get to know him, you find out that he tends to keep to himself. And  Uryu doesn’t really bother to make too many friends. You’ve noticed some people coming to visit him from time to time, but the relationships he has with them seem deep rooted in something you can’t quite understand.

Even as time continues on, you find yourself way too curious about him. What kind of thing does he  do in his spare time? What kind of interests does he have outside of science and medicine? Did he have a love interest? Has he ever had a girlfriend?

Everything comes to a head when you and Uryu are at the same party. He’s keeping to himself in the corner, talking a little bit to a few people here and there that are in the same class as both of you. You take a drink from your beer and you head over to him.

“Hmm?” he barely acknowledges you, which makes you even more turned on.

“You’re Ishida-san, correct?” you ask him, your stomach doing flips.

He smirks at you, “Yes. Good to know you can recognize your classmates' names.”

That comment has your blood  boiling. How could he say something so rude to you like this? You roll your eyes and finish off your beer. Despite the way he acts, he holds himself with an air of someone who knows it all. Something about this suggests he’s not too lucky in the love and intimacy department. Meaning….he’s probably a virgin despite being in his early twenties.

The next time you meet up with him, it’s at the end of your class for the day. You make your way over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. He turns around, towering over you and sports that same smirk as he always does.

“Yes? What is it?”

His tone is just driving you insane, “I was going to ask you to help explain something to me, but honestly if you just want to act like a self-centered jerk,, nevermind.”

Students are walking past you and him, making it seem like there’s just no care in the world for something like this. It’s like you and him aren’t even a part of this student body right now. There’s this tension that grows around the two of you. He takes your hand and pulls you just a little closer. Your heart flutters and your stomach does a flip. Why does he keep making you feel like this? He’s just an asshole classmate.

“Listen, if you really want my help, I’ll help. Just ask nicely.” His tone is authoritative and it makes you want to slap him.

“F-fine…can you help me with today’s lecture?”

He smirks again, “Of course. It was rather easy.”

The urge to push him off you and to just give up on your plan was strong. Yet you followed him into an empty classroom. He sits at the teacher’s desk, opening up his notebook. You close the door and without him noticing, you lock it as well.

Innocently as you can, you make your way up to him. When he looks at you, you flutter your eyelashes flirtatiously. He falters for  a moment,  freezing completely. He’s wondering why you’ve changed your attitude towards him completely, but he finds it endearing that you’re trying to be kinder to him.

What you don’t realize is that you’ve been invading his every thought since that night at the party. He loves the way you take his attitude with a grain of salt. He keeps up these walls for a reason, though he’s ready to tear  down some of his walls to show you his real self.

Suddenly, you’re backing him into the corner. His eyes widen beneath his glasses, his cheeks reddening at the way you’re so close to him. Your actions are so bold and brazen..

“Uryu,” you purr softly in his ear. “You’re a virgin aren’t you?”

His heart skips a beat, “H-huh?”

You laugh, “I know you heard me. Answer the damn question.”

His mouth gets dry as his brain short-circuits. Uryu thought he had really hidden that aspect of his life so well. How could you tell just by being in class with him and the few interactions here and there that he was a virgin? How were you so clever?

He’s about to answer when your lips come crashing down onto his. Your hand drags down his chest to his waist, then down below his belt. You squeeze softly the growing bulge. He moans against your lips. Slowly, you begin palming him through his jeans until he’s rock hard.

“Let me have a little fun, hm? I bet you’ve never even had a handjob before!”

Your words sting and hit him right in the heart. .It was true, he was a virgin and he had never  even kissed before. You were taking a lot of his firsts. He can barely believe his own eyes when you unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. His cock is throbbing and twitching. There’s a precum stain on his underwear now.

“Awhh look at that, you have to be  a virgin.” You tease him as you pull down his underwear.

His cock slaps against his lower abdomen as you release it from the cotton confines of his briefs. The thick precum smears against his button-up shirt. You smirk when you gently graze his cock with just your fingertips and he lets out a whimper.

“Oh you’re gonna blow your load so fast, aren’t you?” You taunt him.

He shakes his head, “N-no. Shut up!”

You wrap your fingers around the throbbing length. He’s shuddering as you begin to stroke him. You make sure to go slow. You aren’t convinced that he won’t just pop within seconds. 

“Look at you, trembling and shaking. What a pathetic little virgin you are,”

Your words are turning him on more than he’d like to admit. It’s making him angrier but also his cock keeps throbbing every time you call him a virgin. He’d love to lose his virginity, but he’s so wrapped up in his studies and academic career that he forgets to make meaningful relationships. He just thought he would end up having to marry someone first to lose his virginity.

“Shut up,” he spits at you. “At least—ahhh fuck— ‘least I’m not failing.”

You squeeze his cock a little harder, “I’m not failing. You really think I’m failing? Let me tell you something,”

You lean in closer, and you start to stroke him faster. Your other hand comes down to massage his balls and he knows he’s done for now. His eyes roll back in his head and his knees begin to buckle. It’s all too much.

“The only reason I asked for your help today was because I wanted to jerk off your cock. You got that?”

He can’t even reply. You’ve rendered him into a blubbering and whimpering mess. His glasses are all fogged up that he can barely make out the blur that’s your fist stroking his cock. You tug on his balls ever so gently and that’s all it takes for him to fall off the edge.

“Fuck! Fuck I—I’m cumming!”

His hips begin to buck up into your hand, spurts of thick cum beginning to coat your fist and the bottom of your shirt. You smirk as you help him through his high. Then you slow down your pace, but never stopping it.

“Listen to me,” you begin. “If you wanna fuck this pussy, you’re going to have to be a lot nicer to me. Got it?”

He nods his head, “Yes, yes…I’ll be nicer.”

And that’s how you ended up with Uryu’s balls in the palm of your hand.

[acewritesfics]

Never Stopped Loving You | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: From anon

Warnings: Swearing. Mentions of war, heartbreak, jealousy (?), a tiny little bit of Grace bashing but just so you know this is based between season 1 & 2 (more towards season 2) so readers dislike towards Grace is after her betrayal not her death

Word Count: 2,276

Tommy Shelby Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Y/N watches from the other side of the Garrison as Tommy sits across from a woman, a pretty brunette she hasn't bothered learning the name of. She didn't hate the woman; she didn't even know her but she did pity her. In fact, she pitied any woman that came across Thomas Shelby. All but one. Grace didn't deserve her pity.   

It's a business meeting, she knows that. Polly informed her yesterday during her visit to her home. She doesn’t know why Polly told her or why she cared to remember it. After the day she had going over last minute details for her sister's wedding, she wanted a drink before she went dancing with some friends and she'd been hoping to catch up with John to see if him and Esme needed any thing as they await the arrival of their new baby.  

After ordering another drink, she looks back to her former lover and his new potential business partner and takes the woman in. There's no denying she's pretty but she can also see the way she's looking at him. It was the same way they all eventually look at him. Yes, she pities all but one woman that comes across him.  

Thomas Shelby always had a certain charm about him. It wasn't just those stunningly beautiful blue eyes, high cheek bones, the scatter of freckles that covers his face, how impeccable he dresses, or the smooth tone of his voice that has the ladies enraptured by him. Even before the war, he knew how to get what he wanted, his main weapon being that silver tongue of his.   

"Does he know that you're here?" She hears Polly say from beside her as she joins her at the bar. Polly orders herself a drink before she turns to face her, leaning against the bar.  

"Would it matter if he did?" she answers with her own rhetorical question.  

"You know nothing gets past him," Polly reminds her, picking up her drink off the bar and takes a drink.  

"I did," she also reminds Polly.  

Y/N had been one of those pitiful women who found herself under Tommy's spell. But back then they were just kids. Two fools who thought that not even a war could separate them. How foolish they were.   

Before the war, it was good. Tommy smiled and laughed more, he was more loving and kinder to himself and those around him. He didn't have blood on his hands or a distant look in his eyes. His eyes sparkled with the good kind of mischief, a love for life and hopes and dreams that didn't include violence and him becoming a man to be feared of. He was a sweet man with a beautiful soul and so much like his mother. She'd fallen completely in love with him and when he proposed a month before war was declared, she didn't hesitate to say yes.   

During the war, when he would come home for breaks, she could see and feel him putting up walls and becoming distant with her. The light in his eyes was slowly fading. He was less kind, less loving and less like the Tommy she'd fallen in love with. But she still loved him so much that she would stay beside him and be there for when he needed her.  

But by the time the war was over, Tommy was but of a shell of his former self. Eventually the couple parted ways with Tommy acting as though their break up had no affect on him while her heart completely shattered into a million pieces.  

Y/N couldn't stay in Small Heath after that. She moved to London for a year before coming back when she got a job offer from the Small Heath school only to witness Tommy fall in love and open up to another woman who would only end up betraying him. It was six months ago, she moved to Bristol to help her brother take care of his sick wife and three children. But now she's back again, not able to stay away from her home town. This time it isn't permanent. Her younger sister is getting married tomorrow, and she couldn't miss it, no matter how much it hurts to be back in the city that brought her so much joy and heartache.   

"He's a fool for ever letting that happen," Polly says, letting her bitterness over their break up be known even though it's been a few years.  

"We were both fools for thinking we'd make it through anything," she finishes her drink and places the empty glass on the bar top as she stands up from the stool she's sitting on.   

"You know he's still got it," Polly says stopping her in her tracks as she begins to walk away from the woman who is like an aunt to her. "I watched him take it to the cut. He contemplated throwing it away but he couldn't bring himself to do it."  

"Maybe he wants to use it for the next woman who falls under his spell," she says keeping her back to the older woman and leaves the Garrison.  

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Miss!” an elderly gentleman exclaims, handing Y/N a beautiful rose as she walks down the street to the store the next day. She’d forgotten about the silly day in the midst of rushing around to get things sorted for her sister’s big day, which just so happened to be today of all things.  

Looking at the man and seeing his large smile, she couldn’t bring herself to disappoint the man. She takes the rose and smells it. “Thank you, sir. You’ve just made my day so much better.”   

“Do you not have a valentine?” he asks her. “A pretty lady like yourself should have all the men falling to her feet.”  

“Well, to be honest, even if there were I would still choose none of them,” she admits.   

“Whoever broke your heart, he’s a right fool,” the man says.   

“Oh, you have no idea,” she chuckles.   

“If I wasn’t married to me Mrs., I would be your valentine.”  

“Your wife is a lucky woman,” Y/N smiles.  

“I’m the lucky the one,” he admits. “I’ll let you get on your way. You looked to be in a rush.”  

“Thank you for the rose,” she thanks him and says goodbye as she carries on her way.  

Entering the store, she grabs what she needs to, pays and heads back to her sister’s home, smiling the whole way.   

“Where have you been?!” her sister shouts as she walks through the door. “I have to be ready and at the church in an hour. Where did you get that?”   

Y/N’s eyes follow her sister’s gaze to the rose in her hand. “A lovely old man gave it to me.”  

“Are you into older men now?” her sister teases. “I guess all the men your age are married now. What’s better than a rich widowed old man?”  

“I’ll have you know, he was being nice,” Y/N frowns at her sister. In her time away from Birmingham, she’d forgotten her younger sister could be mean. “Clearly something you know nothing about.”  

“I can be nice. So nice in fact, I've invited the only man you’ll ever love to the wedding.”   

Y/N wants nothing more than to smack the smug smirk of her sister’s face but decides to play ignorant instead. “And who would that be?”  

“Don’t play daft, dear sister,” she laughs shaking her head as she gets into her wedding dress with the seamstresses help. “Tommy, of course.”  

“Well, don’t be too disappointed if he doesn’t show up," she says causing her sister to roll her eyes. 

Tommy surprised Y/N. He'd come to the wedding. She could feel his eyes boring into her through out the ceremony. Keeping her eyes on the bride and groom, she tried to ignore it. Even now as she dances with her new brother-in-law, she can feel her former lovers eyes on her and as he stands behind her, his cologne invades her senses. It's the same cologne that she'd bought him for his last birthday they spent together. 

"Mind if I cut in, mate?" His smooth voice reaches her ears as he asks Paul. Her body stiffens, her heart dropping into her stomach as her plans to ignore him and his overwhelming presence is dashed. 

"Of course, Mr. Shelby," he smiles and steps away from her. She goes to stop him, only for Tommy to take his place.  

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice that you are back?" he asks, his arm moving around her waist as she takes one of her hands into his.  

She hesitantly places her hand on his shoulders as they start to dance, "I was hoping you would be too busy to notice. You seemed rather busy last night." 

He had seen her in the garrison the night before. If he hadn't been in the middle of a business meeting he would have gone after her when she left. Instead he decided last minute to accept the invitation to her sister's wedding, hoping he to get a moment with her. 

"I saw you," he admits. "I was hoping you would stay long enough so I could speak to you." 

"Is that why you're here?" she asks him, still knowing him better than anyone else. 

"I had to see you some way," he tells her. 

"There's nothing that needs to be said between us, Thomas," she removes his hands from her and steps back from him. Tommy was her first love. He was her only love and as much as she tried to move on from him, she couldn't. She leaves the dance floor and grabs her purse before leaving the venue without saying goodbye to anyone.  

Instead of walking back to her mother's house, where she's been staying for the past week, she finds herself down at the Cut, under the bridge her and Tommy would sneak under when they first started their relationship.  

As many of the happier memories with Tommy flood, her eyes begin to sting from the tears forming in them. The young couple had many happy memories with each other and they far outweighed the bad. Closing her eyes she remembers the way his lips felt against hers, the way his fingers would lightly trace circles on her skin when his hands slipped under her shirt and how tightly he would hold her against him as if he were afraid she would leave him.  

Her eyes shoot open as she hears footsteps coming towards her, quickly wiping away her tears she tries to make her exit when the person comes into view. It's Tommy.  

She finds her feet no longer want to work as she freezes on the spot. He looks just as surprised to see her. After a moment of just staring at each other, YN decides to speak.  

"You were right about us needing to talk," she begins. "I've been wanting to say this for a while and you are going to listen and not say anything until I am done." 

Tommy goes to interrupt her, opening his mouth to say something when she holds up her hand, stopping him.  

"I love you, Tom, more than I've loved anyone," she tells him. "When we ended our relationship you we're supposed to fight for it. But you just stood there, a blank look on your face, saying nothing at all while my heart broke into a million pieces. You were supposed to fight for me, fight for us. Instead you fell in love with another woman who broke your heart and-" 

"I love you too," Tommy says cutting her off as he steps closer to her. "You're the only woman I've ever loved. Grace didn't break my heart because it was already broken from the war and letting you go. She was only a distraction to stop myself from going after you. You deserved better than me and who I became. I wanted to give you the world, promise you things would get better, be the man who deserved you. I didn’t want to pull you into the mess I created. I loved you to much for that. You’re so innocent and good and I’m nothing but a bad man who does bad things." 

“Not all of us are angels, Tom,” she says.  

“But you are,” he tells her.  

“Well then, I’m an angel who’s fallen in love with the devil.” 

“And the devil just so happens to love her back,” he adds, his arms moving around her waist to pull her closer. 

This time she lets him, no longer wanting to get as far away from his as possible. “We still have a lot to work through.” 

“We’ll work through it all because I’m not going to let you go again,” he tells her. “I made that mistake once. I don’t plan on making it again. I’m going to make it up to you.” 

“And you can start by kissing me like you use to under this bridge,” a small hint of a smile appears on her lips. “And then we can go from there.” 

Tommy smiles, cupping her face and plants his lips on hers, kissing her softly as though he’s resting the waters. When she doesn’t reconsider, he kisses her harder and holds her tighter like he’s afraid she’ll leave him again. He ends the kiss leaving his lips only an inch from hers as he tells her, “I never stopped loving you.” 

“I never stopped stopped loving you too,” she replies, pressing her lips back to his. 

[sissylittlefeather]

Baby, Let's Play House

A/N: I'm not sure how I feel about this one. Like I was so excited to write this idea and then I'm not sure it turned out very well. I don't know. If you like it, let me know because my confidence is slipping. If you read it, thanks as always. You're the reason I do this!

Warning: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, fingering, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, infidelity, domestic violence (happens "off screen", Elvis is not violent), mentions of infertility

Word count: ~3.8k

And a little song inspiration for this one. (I know it's not the title song but it inspired the fic lol)

******

You've been on Audubon Drive for several years when the Presleys move in next door. They seem like nice people: a husband, wife, and young adult son. They wave and smile when appropriate and you go on about your daily life.

You don't have children, so it's just you and your husband in your home. You try to convince yourself that he's not a bad man, but when he has a few too many, he has a tendency to make that a hard argument. But what choice do you have? It's 1956 and divorce isn't something anyone goes into lightly. Honestly, you probably just need to toughen up and realize that this is what you signed on for when you married George. Still, some small part of you hopes that there may be more to life.

One day, you decide to take it upon yourself to help George with the chores. Maybe this will reduce his stress and allow him to be kinder to you. You bring the lawnmower out of the garage with the grand idea to mow the lawn on your own. There's only one problem: you've never used a lawnmower before. You go to battle with it for about twenty minutes before you're so frustrated you want to cry. Finally, you sit down in the grass next to it and try to gather yourself. You're just about ready to give up entirely when you hear him. You look up into his face from your place on the ground.

"Ma'am, can I help you at all?" It's the neighbor boy from next door. You say boy, but he's easily in his early twenties. He's a man.

"Oh, well, I'm just, no I'm fine." He sits down next to you on the grass.

"I'll be honest. You don't look fine. Are you sure I can't help?" For the first time, you get a really good look at him. He's impossibly handsome. The lines of his face are like a Greek god and his lips look like they're soft as marshmallows. He kind of takes your breath away, but you're hesitant to let him know that.

"Well. I've never used one of these things before." He chuckles.

"I suspected as much. Can I do it for you?"

"Oh, my husband..."

"Is he here?" He turns to look up at your house.

"No."

"Then why don'tcha let me help? I'll be done before you can shake a stick." He smiles and you almost melt.

"Alright. If you insist."

"I do. I'm Elvis. Elvis Presley." He reaches a hand out to shake yours.

"Y/n. Y/f/n y/l/n. Thank you, Elvis."

"You're welcome, Mrs. Y/l/n." He pops up off the ground and takes the lawnmower. He skillfully maneuvers it around the yard and you watch from the porch for a bit. Then, it occurs to you that you should do something to thank him. You run inside to make some lemonade. When you come back out, he's taken his shirt off and is almost finished. A thin, sheer coating of sweat covers his skin and something inside you jumps. You stand on the porch with your tray trying not to stare at him as his arm muscles flex with the movement of the lawnmower. At one point, he looks up at you and you look away quickly. When you risk a glance back in his direction, he's smiling the dimpled smile again. Eventually, he finishes and parks the lawnmower in front of the porch. He walks up the steps, wet with sweat, and takes the glass of lemonade that you offer him.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Please don't call me ma'am. It makes me feel like I'm a hundred years old."

"Well, if you don't mind me asking, how old are you?"

"That's not a very nice question to ask a lady."

"Oh, I'm sorry-"

"I'm 33." He nods and smiles again.

"That's not old at all, honey." The switch from ma'am to honey is a subtle but deliberate one.

"How old are you?" He grins devilishly.

"Old enough." You feel your cheeks flush with his flirtatious answer. You're trying very hard not to notice how his tanned skin glistens in the sun. But the way he looks at you, like a puppy who hasn't eaten in a week, makes it hard to ignore how handsome he is. He looks out to your yard again.

"Looks like you need someone to sort out those flower beds. Can I come back this weekend?" You think to yourself that George wouldn't like it. But he's out of town for work this weekend and you do need help with the flower beds.

"Sure. Can you be here Saturday morning?"

"I can be here whenever you want, honey." He winks and hands you his empty glass. Then, he takes your hand and kisses the back of it. "I'll see you on Saturday."

"I'll be waiting." You try to hide your cringe after you say it. What on earth made you say that?! But he takes it in stride, grinning widely.

"It can't come soon enough." He walks back across the yard to his home and goes inside. Your chest is heaving and it feels like you can't breathe. No one has made you feel like this in years.

******

George doesn't even notice that the yard is mowed before he leaves for his business trip. You're torn between being disappointed that he doesn't notice your efforts and relieved that you didn't have to tell him about having the neighbor help.

When Saturday rolls around, you wake up early to make yourself presentable. You catch yourself as you're about to dab on your expensive perfume and look at yourself in the mirror disapprovingly. Why are you trying so hard to impress this young man? You put the perfume down and walk out of the bathroom. But before you make it to the living room you go back and dab on the perfume and swipe on your favorite lipstick. Does it really hurt anything to look and smell nice? No. At least that's what you're going to tell yourself.

He shows up around 10am and knocks on your front door. The butterflies in your stomach are embarrassing and you take a deep breath before opening the door.

"Hi Mrs. Y/l/n!" He smiles brightly and you actively try to calm yourself down.

"Hi Elvis. Thank you again for doing this."

"Oh, it's no trouble!" You walk outside with him and show him what you want done with the flower beds.

"I know that's a lot of work. If you don't finish today, it's okay." You look at him and try not to bat your eyes.

"I'll just come back again." He winks and your stomach flip flops.

"Well, I'll leave you to it." You smile awkwardly and he nods. As you walk away, he calls after you.

"I don't mind if you watch." You turn back to him with a shocked expression on your face. "Kidding. Mostly."

His smirk causes a physical response between your legs and you turn and walk away from him as quickly as possible.

A couple of hours later, you peek through the blinds to check his progress. He's taken his shirt off again and you watch as he wipes his brow. You don't even notice you're biting your lower lip until he looks up at you in the window. He smiles mischievously and you realize you might be in trouble.

After another hour, he knocks on the door. You swallow deeply and open it.

"I think I've done all I can do today. Do you mind if I take a break in here? Maybe have some more lemonade?"

"Oh, of course!" He follows you to the kitchen where you fix him another glass of lemonade. When you hand it to him, your fingers touch and you almost drop it. He takes a long drink and then looks around your house.

"Your husband isn't here?"

"No, he's away for work."

"You have kids?"

"No, no kids."

"Hm." He drinks more from his glass and you take the opportunity to look at him again. His hair has fallen from its perfect, slicked back style and the front pieces hang in his face. You become keenly aware of the fact that you're alone in your house with him and he's half naked. Your imagination begins to run wild and you clear your throat to try to get it to stop.

"How do you like the neighborhood?"

"Oh, it's really nice. It's the best place we've ever lived." You nod and he tells you a little bit about the place they came from and how his music career has allowed him to get something nicer for his family.

When his glass is empty, he looks down at it and then back up at you.

"Would you like some more?"

"No, I'm alright Mrs. Y/l/n."

"You know, you can call me y/n."

"Okay then, y/n." He looks into your eyes for a minute before he takes a step closer to you where you stand leaning against the kitchen counter. You look up at him in anticipation and he reaches behind you to set his glass down. He gets painfully close to you when he does so, close enough for you to catch the scent of his natural musk mixed with some other manly smell. He's absolutely intoxicating.

"I should probably get out of here. Thanks for the lemonade." You nod.

"Of course."

"I'll come back to finish those flower beds sometime this week."

"Okay. That sounds good." You're so discombobulated that you don't even think about what might happen if he shows up when George is home. He's got you so distracted that you almost forget George exists. Then, before he leaves, he leans in and whispers in your ear.

"I like your perfume." As he backs away, his lips graze your cheek and a shiver runs through you. "I'll see you soon."

He turns to walk toward the door and your heart pounds so loud you're pretty sure he can hear it.

******

Thankfully, when he shows up on Wednesday to finish up the flower beds, George is at work. You answer the door and he stands on your porch eagerly.

"Thought I'd come finish those beds, if you don't mind."

"Oh, not at all. Thank you for coming back."

"Well, maybe I missed you." He smiles and your heart turns over in your chest.

"Elvis, you don't know me well enough to miss me."

"Maybe I'd like to know you better, then." He's surprisingly serious when he says it. You open the door for him to walk inside and then close it gently behind him.

"I have a husband." You practically whisper it to him and look down at your feet.

"I know that." He tips your chin up so that you're looking up at him. "You just seem so lonely."

"I am." Your eyes fill with tears as you look at each other. A single tear escapes and slides down your cheek. He catches it and wipes it away with his thumb. Slowly, he leans in and kisses your cheek where the tear was. Electricity runs through you and you're overwhelmed with the need for him to kiss you more. Seemingly reading your mind, he leans in again and presses his lips to yours softly. When he pulls back, his eyes flick between yours and then down to your mouth. You can tell he's about to kiss you again, so you look back down at your feet.

"Elvis, I can't."

"Is he good to you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Like hell it doesn't!"

"Elvis, please." You look at him desperately and his heart breaks for you.

"Okay. I understand."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. I'll just get to work on those flower beds."

"You really don't have to."

"Y/n, I want to. Please let me help you." Your heart is warmed by his kindness. He seems to genuinely care about your wellbeing.

"Thank you." He nods and smiles and heads out the front door to the yard.

While he works, you sit in the living room and sob. You're not used to a man who actually cares.

******

"What happened to the flower beds?" George stands at the window on Friday afternoon with a glass of whiskey and a cigarette.

"What do you mean?" You ask innocently, trying to figure out how to answer him.

"They're weeded and there's new flowers."

"Oh, well, I did it. Or rather, I had a friend do them."

"A friend? What friends do you have?" His tone is scathing. He loves to bring up how alone you are.

"The neighbor boy."

"The one with the sideburns and squirrel shoes?"

"Stop, George, he's nice."

"Oh? He's nice? How many times has he been over here?"

"Just a couple of times to help with the yard work." A sickening feeling settles in your stomach as his mouth twists.

"Why is he so keen to help you?"

"He's just a nice kid, George."

"I'll bet he's nice. Men usually are when you fuck them."

"George! I have not!"

"I'm sure, you little whore. You'd give it up to anyone who smiles at you right." You feel the angry tears prick the corners of your eyes.

"George, please stop." He walks towards you menacingly and you cower, trying to avoid him. You close your eyes and pray that he'll get his fill of hurting you quickly.

******

On Saturday morning, George leaves for another business trip and you lay in your bed crying. That's where you are when you hear the soft knock on your door. You don't answer it. But then you hear another knock and Elvis calls to you from the porch.

"Y/n! I know you're in there." You walk to the door and talk to him through it, refusing to open it.

"What do you want, Elvis?"

"I don't know, I just. I wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Your husband. He said something to me. Please let me in."

"What did he say?"

"He said 'she's all yours'. Now let me in. I have a bad feeling about this."

"No. Go home, Elvis. It's nothing."

"Alright, now I'm really coming in. You can open this door or I'm breaking it down."

"Elvis. Don't be ridiculous."

"Here I go! You better stay clear." You hear him back up like he's going to actually try to kick the door in, so you open it quickly.

"Stop!"

"There now that's... y/n..." He pushes his way into the room when he sees you, closing the door behind him. You stand and stare at each other. Then, he gently holds his hand up to your face, gingerly ghosting his thumb over the black and purple bruising on your eye.

"Did he do this to you?" His voice is strained and lower than you've ever heard it before.

"It doesn't matter."

"I'll kill him." You can feel the raging energy coming off of him in waves.

"Elvis, please." The desperation in your voice is the only thing that could calm him down.

"Did he do this because of me?" He practically whispers it. You look down at the floor. "Did he?!"

When he gets loud, you wince and move away from him out of habit.

"Oh, god, honey, I'm sorry." He softens again and wraps his arms around you. You don't hold back anymore, sobbing openly on his shoulder. He walks you to the couch and sits you down next to him, still holding you as you cry.

Eventually, you sit up and look into his face. He shakes his head when he sees your eye again.

"I know I'm ugly with this-" You put your hand up to cover it and he brings it back down.

"Stop. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I just wish I could've been here to protect you."

"Oh Elvis, it's not your-"

He cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours, his hand on the side of your neck. He pulls back a little and whispers, running his thumb gently across your cheek.

"He'll never hurt you again. Not as long as I live." Then he dives back in and kisses you deeply, parting your lips to let his tongue slide into your mouth. He kisses your cheek down to your neck and lays you down on the couch, situating himself beside you. You put your hands on his chest and melt into the closeness of his body. He might be young, but he's strong and for the first time in a long time you feel safe. His hand drifts up and down your back, finally settling on your hip, pulling you tight against him. His mouth finds yours again and your tongues dance against each other passionately.

You know you should stop him. You're married. But you don't. Instead, you let him reach behind you to the zipper on your dress.

"I'm going to take this off now, unless you say no." You're a little surprised at his confidence, but it's obvious he can tell how vulnerable you are. You nod yes and he slowly pulls the zipper down. Then, he sits up and uses both hands to pull your dress forward and down off of your body. He pulls his shirt over his head and kicks off his shoes, lying back down at your side. He rolls his hips into you and you feel his erection pressing against you. His hand slides up your body to your breast and he squeezes it lightly as he kisses your neck. You reach back and unclasp your bra, letting him pull it forward off of you. His mouth immediately goes to one of your nipples and he kisses and nibbles your chest affectionately. He slides his hand under your panties and teases your clit with his finger. Before too long, he slips a long finger into you and begins to pump it in and out. He adds a second finger and kisses your mouth again.

"Does that feel good, darlin'?" You moan softly and nod.

"Yes. Yes it does."

"Good. I just want to make you feel good, baby." He uses his thumb to rub circles on your clit and you whimper with pleasure.

"Oh, you like that?"

"Yes, don't stop!" He slows his fingers down and focuses instead on stimulating your sensitive bud. He drags his thumb over the top of it and moves faster and faster. He watches your body for cues and follows them to bring you the most pleasure. Your breathing picks up as you feel your climax approaching. He rubs a consistent pattern and your orgasm rushes toward you.

"Oh, God, Elvis, yes! Yes!" You cry out as you come hard on his hand. While you ride your body high, he goes back to pumping his fingers, crashing against your g-spot, and you come again, your release splashing out of you. Your legs shake as he pulls his hand away. He pulls your panties down and off and then stands up to remove his pants. They hit the floor and you're shocked to find that he isn't wearing underwear. His cock bounces free and the size of it takes your breath away. He climbs on top of you and aligns himself with your entrance, massaging your sensitive clit with his tip.

"Are you ready?" You look at him hovering above you and you can't believe this is your life. He's so beautiful and so kind. If you're not careful, you'll be in love with him. Finally, you whisper.

"Yes."

He nods and pushes into you, slowly sliding his cock inside. You moan softly as he fills you fully and you stretch around him.

"Oh fuck." He sighs and closes his eyes. You laugh a little at his reaction and he smiles, kissing your shoulder. Then, he picks up a steady pace of fucking into you.

"Is that good, honey?" He whispers in your ear as he pounds you.

"God, yes." You wrap your legs around his waist and he groans. He kisses your mouth with heavy tongue and slows his pace to long, deep strokes.

"Mmm, you feel so good, baby. I could do this forever." A big part of you wishes he would. "But I'm gonna come soon, darlin'. Where should I-?"

"You don't have to stop. I'm not... there won't be a baby." He stops momentarily and looks down into your face. You look away from him and he cups your chin and turns you back to look at him. He kisses your mouth, your cheek, and then your forehead.

"Okay, honey." You never thought you'd find a silver lining to your situation, but here it is. He rolls you on your side to face him with your leg over his hip and begins to pump in and out of you again slowly. Something changes slightly in the way he fucks you. He was gentle and deliberate from the beginning, but now he's even more affectionate, sweetly peppering you with kisses and running his hand over you gingerly. It dawns on you that you've gone from having sex to making love.

He moves his hand down to your hip and holds you tightly as he increases speed.

"Mmm. Baby. It's so good." He rolls his hips into you over and over as his climax approaches. His cock slides in and out quickly and he kisses your mouth one last time before he slams into you and shudders, filling you with warmth. He presses his forehead to yours and breathes heavily. "That was amazing."

You nod and kiss him softly on the lips. He rolls onto his back and rearranges you to lay on his chest. For a young man, he has no problem taking charge and you feel more and more comfortable in his arms. You spend the next few hours in this position, talking about anything and everything. When the sun starts to get low in the sky, he looks out the window.

"Do I need to leave?"

"It's up to you. George won't be home until Monday evening." You feel a lump form in your throat at the thought of spending the next few days alone.

"Then I'm staying. I have to leave on Monday to play a couple of shows, but I'll be back. I'll stay with you until I leave."

"Your parents won't worry about you?"

"I'm an adult. I'll call my mother and tell her I'm staying with a friend for a bit."

And he does. You spend the next two days together, laughing and talking and playing house. You've never been happier in your life. Neither of you thinks about what the future might hold for you. Instead, you revel in the time you have right now with each other. For the moment, you're happy, and no one can take that away from you.

******

Thoughts?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love

[justagalwhowrites]

Hello, i love your work omg!! I had a request for another Joel angst <3 I had an idea where reader decides to sell Joel's watch in the QZ and gifting him a new one (obv not knowing the meaning behind the watch) Joel gets angry and reader becomes heartbroken and decides to look for the watch and gets rly injured by gangs in the QZ and Joel gets worried/goes after her!

OMG Hi Bestie!

You sent me this forever ago but I'm in love with this ask and then went totally overboard and ANYWAY here's the angstiest ask I've ever had, I hope you love it as much as I love you!!

The Watch

You try to do something kind for Joel but things backfire in a way you never expected.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: SMUT! Canon-typical violence. I did almost no proofing on this so... ya know. Basically no age-gap, reader is 3 years younger than Joel. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 12.2k (LOOK I'M SORRY OK I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME EITHER.)

March, 2010

Sometimes, you weren’t sure you knew Joel Miller at all. 

It was a strange sensation, when you thought about it. You’d known him for almost three years now. You’d first met him and his brother, Tommy, when they moved in a few doors down from you in the Boston QZ. Both handsome, both around your age - Tommy a bit younger, Joel a bit older - both beat down by what the world had become. 

But the last thing seemed to apply to everyone in the QZ. Life now was hard. That’s just the way it worked now, as much as you wished that weren’t the case. 

You’d managed to land a relatively good job in the grand scheme of things. You were a chef before, you ran part of the kitchen at a ritzy banquet hall in the city. You were used to feeding a crowd and FEDRA definitely had a crowd to feed every day, what with guards and all. 

It wasn’t much like it was before. There was very little joy in it, the process reduced to the barest minimum: Feed people so they stay alive. But you liked trying to find ways to make the food good, different from day to day. You still took pride in your work, even as the overly long days threatened to wear you down. You still wanted to try to make people happy with your work. 

Which is how you ended up getting to know Joel and Tommy in the first place. You showed up at their door a few days after they moved in with a few plates of food in hand, still hot below the tin foil they were wrapped in. 

“Yeah?” Joel said, voice gruff. 

“Hi!” You said brightly, not taking his attitude personally. Everyone was gruff here. You were used to it. You introduced yourself before pressing on. “I hadn’t seen you both around the QZ before so I thought you might be new and want a little something while you’re settling in, maybe stretch those ration cards a bit further…” 

“What’s in it for you?” Joel cut you off, looking you up and down.

It was like he was finding every flaw you’d ever been afraid you had, his eyes raking over you fiercely. 

“Nothing,” you smiled, even though it felt forced. “Just wanted to do something nice!” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Joel, you scarin’ the neighbors?” Tommy asked, coming alongside his brother and opening the door wider. 

“Not at all,” you smiled, a little more genuinely this time. 

Tommy introduced himself and Joel, who just grunted at you. 

“I brought dinner,” you said, holding the plates out. “Just thought you might want a break after getting here is all.” 

“That is real sweet of you,” Tommy smiled, taking the plates. He lifted one to his nose and breathed deep. “Smells real good, too. You a cook or something?” 

“Or something,” you smiled. “I used to be a chef but now I just cook for FEDRA. This is better than that, though. Anyway, I hope you like it and welcome to Boston!” 

“Thank you,” Tommy smiled broader. “Hope to see you around!” 

You started coming back to see Tommy. He was kinder, he seemed like he was happy to see you. Which you appreciated. You didn’t have many people in the QZ, it was nice to have someone who felt like a friend who lived so close. 

You’d come by twice more and chatted with Tommy for a bit the next time you saw Joel at all. You knocked on their door with a loaf of bread in hand and Joel opened it, frowning at you. 

“He ain’t here,” he said before you had a chance to say anything. 

“Oh,” you tried not to look disappointed. It seemed like that would be rude. “Well, I made a few loaves of bread today. I thought you might want one!” 

You held it out, an offering. 

He took it. 

“Still not sure why you’re doin’ this,” he said, almost sneering. “You just never work? FEDRA jobs that kush?” 

“No,” you frowned. There was the familiar pinch of tears at the back of your throat. “No, I work 12 hours a day six days a week, I just… I like to share.” 

You turned to go before you started crying in front of him, like an idiot. You’d always been overly sensitive, too open-hearted your mom had always said. It didn’t serve you well in the apocalypse. 

“Wait,” he said. You stopped but didn’t turn around, tears starting to slip down your cheeks. “Shit, I… Look. I’m not trying to be an asshole, OK? Just… Haven’t exactly had many people be nice for the sake of bein’ nice in a while. Feels hard to believe. Would… would you want to come inside? Don’t exactly got much at the moment but there’s coffee. Could make us some.” 

You dried your eyes on the back of your wrists and hoped he didn’t notice. 

“Yeah,” you sniffed a little before turning around. “Yeah, OK. Coffee sounds good.” 

It was awkward at first. Joel was stiff, clearly not used to having someone else around who wasn’t his brother. It reminded you of when you’d adopted a dog from the shelter when you were in your 20s. You brought him home to your apartment and let him off the leash and it was like he didn’t know what to do. He could recognize that this was a home, that it had a kitchen and a living room and a couch. He just couldn’t find his place in it. An interloper. Something that needed a map to help navigate a new yet familiar land. 

“How are you liking Boston?” You asked after a few minutes of awkward silence. 

He shrugged. 

“Fine,” he said. “Still tryin’ to figure out if it’s better than out there or not.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“I’ve wondered that, too,” you said. “But I’ve never been out there. I’m just not sure it’s worth it to try and figure out the difference.” 

He was almost kind while you were there. Well, definitely kind by Joel standards, almost by anyone else’s. But you’d take what you could get. Especially since you imagined that would be the last time something like that would ever happen. 

You were wrong. 

When you made pasta a few days later - the sauce surprisingly good for something thrown together from leftovers from the guards’ mess hall - you brought plates a few doors down and Joel answered. He invited you in again, even as you tried to just leave the food and go. 

The conversation was unlike anything you’d ever really had before. It wasn’t small talk - Joel seemed to find that sort of conversation excruciating - but it wasn’t anything personal, either. It occupied an nebulous third arena, deep and intelligent - discussing things like depictions of the end of the world in fiction and what they’d gotten right and what you thought might becoming because of it - but without offering a glimpse into the core of the other person. 

You weren’t sure what to do with any of it. But you liked it. You liked Joel. 

It happened a few more times over the next several months, you ending up in an obscure conversation with Joel in his apartment every other week or so, until, one day, things went bad on your walk home from work. 

One of your cooks was too sick to work - which said a lot with FEDRA breathing down your necks - and you’d stayed late at the kitchen after, getting things reset for the next day.

It was raining and cold and miserable as you trudged home, looking forward to a hopefully hot shower and your bed, when someone stepped out of the shadows as you turned a corner. . 

“Well well,” the man said, making you jump. There was a knife in his hand. You swallowed. “Look what we have here. A FEDRA bitch.” 

You looked around quickly, about to take off back the way you came when there was something warm and large against your back. 

“Don’t even think about it,” the man’s voice was harsh. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, your hands shaking. “I’ll give you whatever you want, I have ration cards, you can have them…” 

You felt the man behind you laugh. 

“Hear that?” He said. “She thinks we want her ration cards.” 

He sneered the last words, taunting you. 

“I just…” you began but the man in front of you spoke now. 

“We’ll take the ration cards,” he said, stepping closer. “Take a lot else, too. FEDRA killed my sister. Seems only fair we take a few of their bitches in return.” 

“Please,” you said softly. “Please, they won’t care, I’m just a cook, they won’t even notice, I’m so sorry about your sister but I’m not…” 

The one behind you grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, making you squeal. The other punched you across the face, making you cry out in shock as much as it was pain. 

“Then we’ll start with you,” he said. “And take a few others, too. We’ll just take and take and take until they have to pay attention. Won’t we?” 

“Yup,” the man at your back put his mouth next to your ear so you could feel his hot breath on your skin. “We could get creative with ‘er. Know you wanted to gut her but now I’m wondering if I could make her choke to death on my cock…” 

Your heart was racing, beating so hard against your ribs it felt like it should be bruising from the force of it. 

“Please,” you were crying. “Please, I haven’t done anything to hurt anyone, I just…” 

“You’re FEDRA,” the man in front of you said, curling his hand into a fist. “That’s plenty.” 

You flinched from the blow you knew was about to land, tried to remember what you could about throwing a punch, when a sharp voice broke through the night. 

“Hey!” 

You opened your eyes just enough to see Joel stalking up. 

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” He demanded. The man at your back released your hair. Joel didn’t slow down. He just shoved the man in front of you back. “Think you can just fuck with whoever you want around here?” 

“You FEDRA now, too, Miller?” He snapped. “Fuckin’ kill you too, maybe make you suck my dick first, too…” 

Joel punched him, hard, across the face. So hard the man collapsed to the ground in one hit. The man at your back grabbed you and threw you to the ground and you landed in the mud as he lunged for Joel. He dodged the man easily, throwing a punch to the man’s torso before he grabbed a knife from his belt and thrust it into the man’s stomach. He gasped at it, his mouth agape in shock as Joel pulled the blade up through his gut to his ribs before shoving him to the ground. The man he’d punched first had managed to roll over, trying to get up. Joel held up the knife. 

“Try it, Pickett,” he said. “Fuckin’ dare you.” 

The man stayed down. Joel nodded, bending to wipe his knife on Pickett’s pants before putting it in the sheath at his belt. He pulled his leg back and kicked the man, hard, in the stomach, right where he’d stabbed the other one. 

“She’s under my protection,” Joel snapped. “Tell your fuckin’ friends. I catch any of you fuckin’ with her, I’ll kill every last one of you. Understand?” 

Pickett just groaned. Joel dropped to one knee next to the man and took his face in one hand, his fingers sinking harshly into the ruddy flesh of the man’s cheeks. 

“Asked you a goddamn question,” he snapped. “Expect an answer or you’re too useless to leave alive. She’s protected. Fuck with her, you die like your fuckin’ buddy. Understood?” 

“Understood,” the man managed. Joel freed his face and he slumped down into the mud as Joel straightened back up. 

“Good.” 

He left the man in the mud before kneeling next to you. 

“You alright baby doll?” He asked, his voice weirdly gentle. You sniffed and nodded. “Alright, let’s get you up, get you home and cleaned up….” 

He put his hands on you delicately. You realized suddenly that Joel had never touched you before. Even when you handed him food or he gave you a cup of tea or coffee, his fingers never even brushed your own. Now, his hands were fully on you, all overly large and delicate and warm, guiding you into sitting up and then standing. Once you were on your feet, one of those large hands gingerly took your chin and turned your face this way and that, so different parts of your skin caught the light. 

“Fucker got you good,” he said, shooting the man who was still alive in the puddle another glare. “C’mon. We’ll get you home, get you all cleaned up. You’ll be OK.” 

He tucked you below his arm, guiding you away from the carnage behind you. You turned to look at it, anyway, the still living man crawling through the mud and the rain to his dead friend. 

“Don’t,” Joel said, voice oddly gentle. He delicately tucked your head against him, making it so you couldn’t look back. “Don’t need to see that. They don’t fuckin’ deserve it.” 

“You killed him,” you said, hating how small and weak you sounded. “Joel, you killed that man, he’s…” 

“Barely counted as a fuckin’ man,” he muttered. “Got what he deserved. Don’t worry about it. C’mon, almost back…” 

You were strangely numb as you let Joel guide you back to your building. He led you up the stairs and to your apartment door, something that shouldn’t have surprised you - you only lived a few doors down from him and Tommy, after all - you just hadn’t thought he’d ever paid attention. 

“Gimme the key,” he said, his arm still around you. You obeyed, your hands still shaking as you got the key from your pocket and handed it over. He unlocked the door and flipped the lights on. You were glad you’d picked your apartment a bit the day before so it was at least neat and relatively clean - at least by QZ standards it was, anyway. 

Joel lowered you gently into a chair at your kitchen table and pulled up another one next to you. You frowned. 

“What are…” 

“Fuckers got a good hit on you,” he said, looking at your face in the light, frowning. “Should’ve just killed them both but that don’t work as well for sending a specific goddamn message….” 

It seemed like he was talking to himself, at least in part. You just watched him examine you, his face drawn, eyes tracing over your skin. 

“Go get cleaned up,” he said, sitting back from you. You frowned. “You’re covered in mud. Won’t do a damn bit of good to bandage you up now if you’re a mess.” 

“Right,” you said, looking down at your body. You’d almost forgotten that part of it. “Um…” 

“Be here when you’re done,” he said. “Get you patched up. Go shower.” 

You took a last look at him, acutely aware of the mud dripping onto your carpet, before you went to your bathroom, stripped down and climbed in the shower. You tried not to think about the fact that Joel Miller was just… sitting in your apartment. 

It didn’t make any sense. It was Joel. Why had he even bothered to stop? Why had he intervened at all? He seemed to think of you as little more than a nuisance but he saved you. Killed a man for you. Told another that you were under his protection, all but told him to let the whole of the QZ know it. And now he was just sitting at your kitchen table, waiting for you to get out of the shower so he could take care of you. 

You stayed under the mercifully warm water longer than you needed to trying to come up with an answer. The best thing you could come up with was that he felt like he owed you for all the food you’d brought over the last few months - though murder seemed like a high price for some bread and dinners. 

In your almost dazed state, you hadn’t thought to bring more clothes into the bathroom with you, a fact that occurred to you when you were still in the shower. You groaned. At least there was a robe in the bathroom so you wouldn’t need to dart across the hall to your bedroom while wrapped in nothing but a damn towel. 

But when you stepped out of the bathroom in a haze of steam and wrapped in a terrycloth robe that went almost to your ankles, Joel was standing at the mouth of the hall. He looked up at you and blinked twice, frozen where he stood. You froze, too. You weren’t entirely sure why, if maybe you felt like prey under his gaze, a rabbit hoping that stillness would keep the wolf from gutting you, or if the heat inside you made you want to be cracked open wide to the very center of you and consumed. 

“Better,” Joel said after a moment before jerking his head toward the kitchen table. “In here, where it’s light.” 

“But…” you tried to protest, overly aware of your own nakedness below your robe. 

“It’s fine,” he cut you off. “C’mere.” 

You kept your eyes on him as you obeyed, moving slow and cautious for the kitchen table, never turning your back to him. You still weren’t sure why. 

The seat you were in before had been cleaned, as had your floor, no sign of the splatters of mud. Instead, there was a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and cotton balls and gauze on your kitchen table. 

“Sit,” Joel ordered. You obeyed without hesitation. He took the seat close to you again, reaching to the leg of your chair and jerking you forward, the wood groaning as it scratched across the linoleum of your floor. He took your chin in his hands again and examined your skin, his face close to yours. You could smell him, the rain water on his skin, the remnants of laundry soap, the bite of something wild that you couldn’t place but seemed to blend with his rough beard and flannel shirt. “Not exactly a doctor but don’t think you need stitches. Just gotta keep you from getting infected. Unless you’d rather go to the damn clinic…” 

“No!” You said it quickly, probably too forcefully. You cleared your throat. “No, I… No clinic. I don’t want to cause any issues and I don’t want them to ask too many questions…” 

You didn’t want anything that would tie the dead body that was going cold in the rain a few blocks away to you or Joel. 

“Good,” Joel said. He dabbed the rubbing alcohol on your cut cheek, making you hiss in pain but you held still. His fingers were surprisingly gentle, even with the rough callus of them. “You’re doin’ good, baby doll. Almost done.” 

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, his brows drawn together as he concentrated on you before picking up the gauze and taping it over the injured skin. 

He released your face when he finished and sat back in the chair. You crossed your arms over your stomach, watching him for a moment. You’d always known that Joel was handsome. That was a simple fact, anyone with working eyes could see it. But it had always been a somewhat neutral statement. He was handsome but he was also cold and gruff and seemed to barely tolerate you outside of the unusual conversations you had when you brought something by and Tommy was unexpectedly absent. Even then, you’d gotten the impression that he was humoring you for Tommy’s sake, not out of any kindness or affection toward you. He was handsome but you’d never had anything more than a passing attraction to the man because thinking about how he must look at you, see you, hurt. 

But it was like a switch had flipped since Joel had saved you. Like the only thing that had been keeping you from looking at him and wanting him had been the idea that he wouldn’t want you in return. Some kind of protective measure meant to save you from getting attached to something hopeless because, at the end of the world, what was the point of attachment without hope? 

“Thank you,” you said when you realized you’d been quiet for too long. 

Joel shrugged. 

“Anyone fucks with you again, tell me,” Joel said. “Idiots should know better now, but…” 

You nodded slowly. Joel watched you for a moment before getting up and going to your kitchen. He got a towel from a drawer and filled it with ice before coming back and moving his chair closer to yours and pressing it against your bandaged skin. Your fingers covered his, meaning to take the ice pack from him, but he left his hand there, cradling it to your face. Your eyes met his, all dark and deep and wounded and you swallowed, hard. 

“Why did you do that?” You asked, whispering more than fully talking. Like it was a secret you were asking at all. 

“Didn’t deserve what they were about to do to you,” he said. His eyes were still on yours. You were closer to him than you’d ever been before. Your hand slid from his down his arm to his elbow, fingers twisting in the fabric of his sleeve. You watched his jaw tense for a moment. “Didn’t… Couldn’t see you hurt.” 

You leaned into him. You couldn’t help it, drawn into his strength and warmth, the comfort of his safety and sudden kindness so overwhelming it was a force unto itself. It was almost a surprise when you kissed him, that his lips were on your own. 

The kiss was only soft and gentle for a moment. Just long enough for Joel to drop the ice pack to the floor, his hand gently holding your bandaged face, ensuring he kept your mouth at the right angle. His other hand went to your waist, grabbing you almost roughly, pulling you sharply onto his lap with a surprised squeak. You were straddling Joel and damn near naked doing it, the only thing between you his jeans and the robe that was caught between your thighs. 

You froze as his fingers tightened on you, his lips growing more insistent, the heat in you building and burning but you weren’t sure what to do with it all. 

But he wasn’t slowing down or pulling away. His kiss deepened and the hand that was at your waist moved to the small of your back, adjusting you so that your core was pressed tightly to his growing length in his jeans. You moaned into his mouth, involuntarily rocking your hips against his hardening cock. Your arms went around his neck and you pressed yourself closer to him, dipping your tongue into his mouth to taste him. Joel’s hips pressed up against yours and you could feel his bulge against you, the heat of him making your core tighten and ache. 

Joel’s hands left your face and your back, coming around to the knot on the front of your robe. He pulled his lips from yours and looked down at your body as he untied it. He looked you in the eye - a silent request for permission, it seemed - and you didn’t stop him as his hands slid inside the fabric and pushed it away from you. 

Your skin was still warm from the shower and the shock of the cool air against you made you shiver. Joel didn’t seem to notice. His hands moved almost reverently for your waist, then your breasts, his callused fingers running over your soft, smooth skin, cupping the heavy globes of flesh, running his thumbs over your pebbled nipples. 

“Fucking Christ,” he breathed before kissing you again, your tits still in his hands. You pulled him closer, tighter, not caring if you seemed like some kind of rabid whore as you ground your leaking slit down on his still clothed cock. 

His hands ranged over you as he all but devoured your mouth, grip getting harder, kiss getting more desperate before he separated from you once more, panting for breath, pupils blown. 

“Let me fuck you,” his chest was heaving. He didn’t say it like a question or even a plea. He said it like it was a foregone conclusion, that he was going to have you and this was a formality. 

You could only nod and he shoved your robe to the floor before taking you in his arms and carrying you to your couch. He ripped his shirt over his head and cast it aside before hurriedly stepping out of his boots and shoving his pants and underwear down and off, his cock full and hard, making your eyes go wide. It’s not like you were a virgin or anything, you’d been in your early 30s when the outbreak happened, you’d had your fair share of men. You’d just never seen a cock quite that thick. 

Joel looked down at you on the couch, one of his hands wrapping around his length and stroking it once, twice, before gathering the precome leaking from his head and spreading it over himself. 

“Joel,” you swallowed hard as he adjusted your legs and climbed between them. “I don’t think…” 

“It’ll fit, Baby Doll,” he was still breathless as he jerked himself. “I’ll make it fit. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry…” 

You nodded, not really sure you believed him, but the gnawing need inside you was overwhelming any resistance you felt as he lined his fat, almost purple head with your weeping hole. You sat up on your elbows, watching where he was going to enter you - or try to enter you, at least.  

“Already so wet,” he ran his head up and down your slit, gathering your slick. “Make you feel so good, fill you up so good, promise baby…” 

He pushed himself inside you then, a grimace on his face until his head almost popped into your tight channel, pulling a shocked gasp from you. He was hardly inside you but you could still feel the burning stretch of him. His thumb went to your clit and brushed it at first, making you shudder, before working you in tight, firm circles. He fucked just the tip of him in and out of you, keeping the pressure on your sensitive nub as he did. You rocked your hips against him, you couldn’t help it, your orgasm already closer than you’d expected it to be. 

“See?” He panted. “Told you I’d take care of you.” 

With that, he thrust into you the rest of the way, making your eyes go wide and a high pitched whine leave you. You couldn’t look away from where he was filling you, the stretch unlike anything you’d ever felt before. He was so big you could see the outline of him between your hips, a foreign swell where he’d made space inside you to fill. 

“Joel,” you whimpered below him. You could feel him twitch inside you, like he was inches away from orgasm already. “Fuck, I need a minute, you’re too big, I need…” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, tipping his head back, his hands finding your waist. But he was still inside you even though you could feel that he wanted to fuck you hard and fast. Your body adjusted, the almost painful strain of taking him fading to an overwhelming fullness that had you starting to rock your hips against him, desperate for more stimulation. “Fuckin’ Christ, gonna lose it with you doing that, Baby Doll, I need to fuck you, I gotta, won’t hurt you promise I won’t…” 

You nodded but you weren’t sure it even registered with him. His grip on your waist tightened and he pulled back from you - slow at first - before thrusting all the way back in, the force of it knocking the air out of you. You groaned as Joel started to fuck you, hard and fast and needy, his thick cock stretching you with every motion. 

“Knew you could take it,” he panted. “Told you I’d make it fit.” 

You just whimpered, one of your hands finding your clit, the other your breast, working yourself in both places as he pounded into you. Your channel grew tighter around him, your orgasm close. 

“There you go,” he kept up his almost brutal pace. “Fuck yeah, make yourself come on this cock, come all over my fuckin’ cock while I wreck this little pussy, do it, fucking come for me.” 

You couldn’t help it, you came so hard you cried out with it, your hands stilling as you pulsed over Joel and he fucked you through your orgasm. He never stopped, never even slowed. If anything, he slammed into you harder and faster and your overwrought pussy almost hurt with it. 

“Fuck, can I come in you?” He asked. “Please… fuck… please, gotta come in you, need to come in you, fuck Baby I’m coming, gonna fill you up, fuck!” 

He pressed himself deep and exploded inside you there before you had a chance to tell him either way, the hot ropes of his come coating your inner walls. He collapsed forward onto you, his head over your shoulder and pressed into the cushion of your couch as he caught his breath. You could feel him leaking out of your spent hole as he went soft inside you. You slowly, hesitantly put your arms around him, stroking his back for a moment. Part of you was unsure what, exactly, had just happened. If it meant anything at all. 

“Fuck,” he sat up from you and pulled his cock from your body. He was glistening with the blend of you and him together. He looked down at you, still a little breathless, as you were splayed out before him. You remembered, suddenly, what it was like to look down at a chicken you’d split while butchering, all hollowed out, its only remaining purpose - to be consumed - laid bare. “Fuck, I… I don’t…” 

You sat up on your elbows again and looked down between your legs. His come was leaking from you. You looked back up at him, acutely aware of your vulnerability but hiding anything from him felt wrong. 

“It’s OK,” you said quietly. 

“No,” he shook his head. “I… I’m sorry, I…” 

He stopped and got off the couch, getting his clothes from the floor. He pulled his underwear and jeans on quickly before retrieving your robe from beside your kitchen table. He lowered it gently onto your stomach. You stared at it for a moment before sitting up and sliding it on. You cinched the tie around your waist. 

“Are you…” he trailed off as he shrugged back into his shirt, his brown eyes ranging over you again and again. 

“I’m fine.” 

He nodded. 

“Right,” he said. “Right, OK…” 

He stepped into his boots, not bothering to adjust the laces. But then, he only lived a few doors down. 

Oh God, he only lived a few doors down. 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly after he was fully clothed again. “I… I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” you said, getting up and crossing your arms over yourself, thankful that your robe was long and covered most of you. “I… I wanted it.”

“Right,” Joel nodded. “That… we can’t do that again, OK? It’s not smart. Probably best if we…” 

“Sure,” you just nodded again. “Yeah, OK.” 

“Good,” he said, going for your door. He stopped to look at you. “Take care of yourself. Let me know if you run into any more trouble.” 

“I will,” you nodded. “Thanks, Joel.” 

He gave you a nod and just left you there, his come dripping out of you and his bandage on your cheek. 

That was the first time you fucked Joel Miller. 

It wasn’t the last. 

You came by a few weeks later, almost positive that it would just be Tommy home but it was Joel who answered the door. 

Once you got through the awkwardness of the hellos and the handing off of biscuits, you tried to leave, even though your core was tight and achy being so close to Joel again. Like he’d imprinted himself inside you, the shadow of him still there as a reminder. But Joel wasn’t having it. He grabbed your shoulder and pulled you around to face him before pressing you back into the wall and all but shoving his tongue into your mouth. He fucked you right there, against the wall of his living room, and when your thoughts weren’t blinded by orgasms you were just praying that his brother didn’t come home and find the two of you like this. 

When it was over, he stepped back from you, his eyes wide as he panted for breath and said over and over that it couldn’t happen again. That it wasn’t smart, not when you were neighbors and you were all stuck here like this. That he didn’t want any kind of anything with anyone. That it was a waste of time. 

It took until about the fifth time for Joel to stop saying it couldn’t happen again. For him to just accept it. He showed up at your door most nights now. He had for more than a year now. You weren’t entirely sure what your relationship actually was. You slept better when Joel was wrapped around you, even when he jerked in his sleep as nightmares plagued him. If you had an utterly miserable day, he sometimes listened to you vent about it before he fucked you silly. He brought you things he thought you’d like when he made smuggling runs outside the QZ, like a magpie who sought out books and baking equipment. You made him dinner and cut his hair when it got too long and didn’t ask questions when you bandaged up his knuckles at the end of a long day. 

But Joel had never so much as told you that he liked you, let alone anything close to love. Even though you loved him. It had taken you some time to realize that you had. You’d become numb to a lot since the outbreak. Love was a risk, one that your subconscious mind seemed itching to keep you away from. Especially from someone as distant as Joel. You’d been fucking no one but him for more than a year now and you’d only learned within the last month that he was a contractor before the end of the world. 

You wanted to do something nice for him. Something that might let him start to love you. At least like you as something more than someone to fuck, anyway. And you had the perfect thing in mind. 

That day, Joel rolled you over in the early morning hours, kissing you deeply in the dark, enough to start to wake you up. 

“Have a good day,” your words were slurred and mushy in your sleep but he seemed to get the picture. 

“Think you’ll have an easier time of it, I’m on sewer duty,” he kissed you one more time, just a peck on the lips. “See you tonight.” 

“Mmmm.” 

You waited until you were sure Joel was gone for the day before you turned on the lamp beside your bed and found Joel’s watch on the nightstand. 

He never took the darn thing off except to sleep. He always wore it, every day. Except the days he was on sewer duty. He left it at home or at your place then, the face of it cracked and the mechanism so broken it didn’t work anymore. But he still wore it every damn day. He’d never told you why. 

You ran your thumb over the broken glass of the face for a moment before setting it back down and getting dressed in your kitchen uniform and pocketing the watch.

Your shift started in an hour and a half, giving you what you hoped was enough time to get the errand you’d been planning done. You had to venture most of the way across the QZ to do it, traveling to the black market shops where you knew a lot of what Joel smuggled in wound up. It was still early there, people setting out what was on offer, and you found the one person you knew of in the QZ who dealt in things like jewelry and watches. Even though he’d always struck you as slimy every time he’d talked to you when you’d walked by his stall when on the hunt for something else. 

“Hey there pretty lady,” he smirked. “Finally coming to see me?” 

“I was wondering if you could fix something for me,” you said, getting the watch out and handing it over. “It’s my… it belongs to my friend. The face has been broken forever and I don’t think it tells time anymore. Think it’s fixable?” 

He took it and frowned down at it, turning it over in his fingers. 

“Kind of a piece of shit to waste the energy on fixing it,” he said before looking back up at you. “Could find you something better, get you a deal…” 

“I’d rather get that one fixed if you can,” you smiled. “I don’t mind the price.” 

He nodded, looking back down at it.

“Well, it’s beat to shit,” he said. “But I’ll give it my best shot or find something good to replace it with, how about that? Even buy this piece of crap off you, I’m sure I can use it for parts. Give you a discount on the watch itself.” 

There was a twinge in your gut at that, the idea of maybe trading Joel’s watch away. It must have sentimental value if he wore the broken thing that much. Or maybe it was just force of habit? He didn’t have one that worked but felt naked without it? 

“Sure,” you smiled. “When do you think you’ll know?” 

“Tomorrow,” he said. “Come back, see me. I’ll let you know what I can figure out.” 

You walked to work excited to see Joel that night. You were sure he was going to like the watch thing. Maybe it could be the start to something new, something good. After so long of living in limbo with him, you sure hoped it was. 

***

Joel fucking hated sewer days. 

They paid the best but it was disgusting work. The only worse job, in his opinion, was burning infected bodies. At least the sewer didn’t have dead kids. 

Otherwise, it was worse.

He went by his apartment first to shower and get cleaned up before heading toward yours. 

Joel was reluctant to admit it even to himself - especially to himself - but he’d grown attached to you over the last few years. 

He’d never meant to fuck you. 

It had been an accident, the first time. Or, at least, as much of an accident as fucking someone could be. He’d always thought you were pretty. You were beautiful, truly. Beautiful enough that he couldn’t pretend that you weren’t. So he moved on from that fact. But you were also sweet and kind, nicer to him than he deserved. He tried to keep you at arm’s length but you’d somehow managed to insert yourself into his life in ways he hadn’t expected. He liked being around you, he liked to look at you, he liked to imagine what it would feel like to be inside you. Falling into fucking you had been easy, so damn easy.

It helped that you didn’t ask anything of him. That you put up with shit from him that he doubted you’d have tolerated in the before times. But you were lonely here, that much was clear, and Joel was someone. He took advantage of that fact, he knew. He knew he should be better for you. Try to be more. Try to be something at all. But he wasn’t sure he had it in him anymore, if it had ever existed for anyone but Sarah at all. It seemed like it would be cruel to both of you to try. 

So he didn’t. 

He was lucky that you seemed fine with that. Even if he really wasn’t. 

He beat you to your apartment. Not surprising, sewer shifts started early and ended early, and he let himself in to wait for you, going to get his watch off the nightstand first. 

Joel felt naked without it. Almost like he was betraying his daughter when he didn’t wear it, that he’d somehow decided the last thing she’d done for him wasn’t good enough anymore. But wearing it on sewer jobs was too big a risk. If it fell off there, he’d never find it again and he wasn’t sure he could live with himself if that happened. So he left it wherever he slept the night before - as likely to be your place as his anymore - and always put it back on the second he got cleaned up. 

But it wasn’t on your nightstand. He frowned, looking on the bed - you made it every day, like that shit still mattered - but it wasn’t there. He got down on his hands and knees and looked around the nightstand, below it, under the bed. He ripped the sheets off and shook them out, took the pillows out of their cases. His heart was pounding. It had to be here it had to. 

He went to the bathroom next, maybe he’d taken it off in there the night before even though he never had before but he searched there, too. He was taking all the cushions off your couch when he heard your key in the door. He kept searching as you came in, not even looking up at you. 

“Joel!” He heard you drop your keys and your bag and then your hands were on him, pulling him back from the couch and making him stand up straight. He was breathless. He had to find it, it had to be here. Fuck, what if he put it on this morning and it fell off on the job and he hasn’t noticed? What if it was gone? “What are you…” 

“My watch,” he said, looking around the room for where to search next. “I… my fucking watch, left it here this morning, almost positive I left it here but I can’t find it and I need that watch, Baby Doll, I gotta…” 

“Joel,” you smiled a little, putting your hands on his forearm. “It’s OK. You did leave it here but… well, it was supposed to be a surprise…” 

His stomach dropped.

“What did you do.” 

You took your hands back, smile fading at his tone. Your eyes went a little wide. 

“I noticed that it’s broken,” your voice was quiet. “And I thought it was something that might be fixable…”

“What the fuck did you do?!”

You shocked back from him. Joel had never so much as raised his voice to you before and he was screaming now. 

“I took it to a man across town,” you said quickly.  “He said he might be able to fix it or find a good replacement and…” 

“I don’t want it fucking fixed!” He screamed, pressing closer to you and you flinched back. “I want it the way it was! I want it the way it was when my daughter fucking died!” 

You stared at him for a second. He’d never told you about Sarah. He didn’t talk about her. It hurt too much to even consider it, he kept her to himself, her memory saved for quiet spaces where he could let it overwhelm him. 

“Your daughter?” You whispered, reaching for him. He stepped back from you, couldn’t handle your fucking hands on him, not now. “Joel, you never… I didn’t…” 

“She gave me that watch!” He wasn’t yelling now but there was a tremble in his voice, the barely contained rage slipping through. “She gave me that fucking watch and the day she died she got it fixed for me. It got fucked up by the bullets that killed her because I didn’t do my fucking job as her father, I didn’t protect her! That watch is all I have left of her and you…” He shook his head, his resolve cracking and yelling again. “You fucking gave it away! How could you be that fucking stupid? That fucking careless? What the fuck were you thinking!”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. You were crying, voice shaky. “I… I didn’t know, I just wanted…” 

“You think I give a shit what you want?” He yelled, towering over you. “Think I give a shit about you? You’re just some stupid fucking girl I use when I need to get off and you…” 

You were cowering back from him and he knew he was scaring you but he couldn’t feel anything past the sharp pain of loss enough to care. 

“I’m sorry,” your voice was so quiet he could barely hear you. “Joel, please…” 

He glared at you with so much force it made you flinch and stalked out your front door, not bothering to close it behind him. 

Joel took the stairs down to the street two at a time and set off, walking quickly as night fell and rain started in a steady drizzle over him. He could think of a few places you’d probably try to take the watch. If he could find it in time… with all the fucking smuggling connections he has in this godforsaken town. He had to be able to find it. He had to. 

But he searched all night, went to every goddamn black market dealer he could think of. He was only able to find about half of them, some out who the fuck knows where, and none of them had the watch. 

It was daylight again when he returned home, soaking wet and exhausted. He glared at your door as he passed, going to his place to shower and try to warm up. 

But without the distraction of searching, the desperate drive to do something because he could, he was forced to feel while standing in the steam and the water. 

The pain of the loss of his daughter was there, sharp and acute when he realized he may never again touch something she had also held. The permanence of that somehow making her loss more real than it had been in years. It was gutting. He’d rather be shot or stabbed or have the shit beaten out of him than feel this. At least that was tangible, something he could heal from and not this constant, consuming pain. 

But there was also you. You, who had become the only bright spot in this goddamn place. You, who held him when he woke up in a panic and told him that he was safe and that it would be OK. You, just about the only thing that had made him smile in years and who looked at him like he was something worth wanting. Looked at him like there was still a point to him at all. 

You’d tried to do something nice for him. You hadn’t known any better, he knew that. He’d just never let you in. Never even told you Sarah existed let alone about the way that she died. How he’d held her, how Tommy had to drag him away from her body, how all he’d wanted to do was join her and he couldn’t even do that right. He’d never told you any of it. He couldn’t blame you for that, not when he was already afraid of how much he cared about you. He was even more terrified of what he knew he could feel for you if he just let himself. It wouldn’t even be hard. Not feeling it was like fighting against gravity. It would only take one slip and he’d fall into it, he knew that. 

He got out of the shower and sighed, trying not to think about the watch. About the things he’d said to you. He’d been so panicked, so angry. He had tried to hurt you. Said things he knew were cruel because if he was hurting he wanted you to hurt, too. 

But he wasn’t proud of that. He didn’t want you to hurt. He wanted to take care of you and protect you. You were kind and thoughtful and this fucking place hadn’t chewed you up and spit you out yet. He wanted to help you stay that way. Instead, he’d tried to hurt you. 

He sighed and got dressed before going to knock on your door. It was your day off, he expected you to be home. Probably reading or baking something. Because apparently cooking all day during the week wasn’t enough, you had to do it on your day off, too. 

“Hey!” Your next door neighbor came outside but her face fell when she saw Joel. “Oh, sorry. I thought you were…” 

“I’ll tell ‘er you’re looking for her,” Joel said, looking back at the door, waiting for you to answer. But he didn’t even hear you inside. He frowned. He had a key, it just felt wrong to use it after the way he’d spoken to you but maybe he’d need to…

“Thanks,” your neighbor smiled, a plate in her hand. “She’s always making things for my daughter, I finally had enough extra to return the favor but I haven’t seen her since she left last night and…” 

“Last night?” Joel’s frown deepened. “What do you mean, when last night?” 

“Kind of late,” she frowned back. “After dark, I was just coming back home when I ran into her. Seemed like she was in a big hurry, looked like she might have been upset. I told her I had something for her and she said she’d be back later. I don’t think I missed her but…” 

Joel’s heart sped up and he shoved his hand in his pocket, finding his keys. He tuned out the neighbor and had to fight to keep his hands from shaking as he opened your door. 

Your apartment was still torn apart from when Joel had been searching it, couch cushions still all over the floor, coffee table askew. He ignored it, half walking, half running to your bedroom. 

“What happened?” Your neighbor hovered in the doorway. Joel ignored her, too. He looked in your room, still in total disarray but empty, your uniform on the floor where it hadn’t been before. Your bathroom was empty. 

“Fuck!” Joel smacked the wall. You’d left, gone somewhere and not come back. But you’d planned to come back, you’d told your neighbor that you were going to be back later and you hadn’t come home. He went to the woman in the doorway, her eyes still a bit wide as she took in the mess he’d made of your apartment. He took her by the shoulders and she blinked up at him in surprise. “Where was she going? Did she say? Tell you anything at all?” 

“N-no,” she stammered, frozen in Joel’s grip. “She didn’t, I’m sorry, I don’t…” 

Joel released her, running his fingers through his hair for a moment. Had you gone to try to get the watch back? He’d been so upset, so cruel… You must have. It seemed like something you would do, immediately go to try to fix it. He turned back to the woman, cursing the fact that he didn’t know this about you, that he had kept his distance from you so he wouldn’t know things about you and fall into you in the way that was so tempting to do. 

“Know what markets she goes to?” He asked. “Especially for any contraband shit?” She just blinked at him for a moment and he resisted the urge to yell at her. That’s what got him into this situation, losing his fucking temper at someone who didn’t deserve it. He took a deep breath, keeping his voice calm. “I think she went to look for something but I need to know where that would be so I can go find her. Do you know?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded after a moment. “Yeah, there’s one across town, in the south end. I’ve run into her there before…” 

Joel was out the door before she finished talking. It was one of the places he’d gone the night before but hadn’t found anyone to talk to. He certainly hadn’t seen you there. But it was at least a starting point. He’d find you. He had to. 

***

You stared at your open door for a few minutes after Joel left, in too much shock to move. 

Joel had a daughter. A daughter who died. The watch had been from her, of course he wouldn’t want it fixed, of course he would wear it every day. And you’d given it to some slimy guy in the contraband market. 

After a while, you could make yourself move. You closed your door and went to your room. Joel had turned that upside down, too. Of course he had. Because he was desperate and you’d made him that way. 

You got changed quickly, leaving your uniform in a pile on the floor, grabbed a handful of ration cards in case you needed to buy the watch back, and headed out. 

“Oh, hey!” Clara, your next door neighbor, almost ran into you on the stairs, her two-year-old on her hip. “I was just going to pop over, I made…” 

“That’s so sweet,” you cut her off. “But I’ve gotta run, I’m so sorry. I’ll be back later and should be around tomorrow…” 

“OK!” She called after you as you took off. “Be careful out there!” 

You moved as quickly as you could manage toward the market, hoping that you could find the man, that he hadn’t started doing anything to the watch, that everything would be OK. Even if Joel hated you now, he shouldn’t lose the one thing he still had from his daughter because you hadn’t thought to ask him about the damn watch. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when the man was still there, closing up shop, when you ran up. 

“Why hello again,” he smiled, a smile that was smug and lecherous. “Haven’t been home to check my stash for parts yet, pretty girl, but if you wanted to come back with me I bet I could find a way to give you an even bigger discount…” 

“That’s OK,” you said, a little breathless. “I actually just want the watch back, just the way it is…” 

He frowned. 

“It’s still pretty useless…” 

“That’s OK!” You said quickly. “Just… please. Please say you still have it.” 

He sighed and opened a box, rifling around in it for a moment before pulling it out. But he held onto it, running his thumb over the face of it. 

“I was expecting something for fixing this,” he said, glancing up at you before looking down at the watch. “Had plans for those cards…” 

You pulled a few ration cards from your pocket and held them out. 

“Please,” you said. Even though he hadn’t done any work. You didn’t care. “The cards are yours, just give me the watch.” 

He looked almost surprised that getting cards out of you had worked but he took them and gave you the watch. You looked at it for a moment, the broken glass in the face, the time frozen  at 2:15. You tucked it in your pocket, the fist that had been clenched around your heart loosening. 

“Thank you,” you smiled. “Just… Thank you.” 

You started at a more reasonable pace back for your apartment. You’d go to Joel’s, return the watch, apologize again and hope that he wouldn’t still hate you once you fixed it. At least you hoped he wouldn’t be hurting as much, he didn’t deserve that, not after everything he’d been through. You could fix that for him, at least. You had to. 

You were so relieved at getting the watch back that you weren’t paying close attention to your walk home. Yes, it was dark and raining and late but you knew the way and, since that day more than two years ago when Joel had saved you, everyone seemed to know you were protected. That you weren’t someone they messed with and expected to live. In hindsight, it made you feel like the QZ was safer than it was. So safe that you were fine walking home alone from a shady corner of town, far from FEDRA guard posts and people you knew. 

It was a stupid mistake. You realized that when you heard a voice in the dark. 

“Well well.” 

The sound sent a chill down your spine. You recognized that voice, the voice of the man who had tried to kill you once. 

You froze, eyes wide, an animal caught in a trap. 

“If it isn’t Joel Miller’s little FEDRA bitch,” Pickett emerged from the shadows, his hands in his pockets, a few men at his side. Your eyes darted between them. There were six of them that you could see. There was no way you could fight off that many. Hell, you probably couldn’t even fight off one. You’d never been a fighter. “Awful far from home aren’t ya?” 

“Heading there now,” you said, voice shaky. “Joel’s expecting me…” 

“Well that’s too bad, isn’t it?” He prowled closer. “Guess you’ll have to keep him waiting just a bit longer.” 

“You don’t want to do that,” you finally were able to make your legs move, backing away from him. “You know what he said…” 

“But he isn’t here, is he?” He smirked. “And he’s the one who left his little toy out for just anyone to take. If you mattered all that much to him, don’t think you’d be out here all alone at this time of night.” 

Your eyes darted, looking for the best way to run, but your mind was distracted. The man was right. You didn’t matter to Joel, he’d told you as much, that you were just some stupid girl he used when he needed it. You were just some stupid girl and you were going to wind up dead in the shitty part of the QZ and he’d never get the watch back, the one thing he had left of his daughter, because you’d been too stupid to ask about it. For some reason, that part hurt more than the thought of dying. There wasn’t much to life in the QZ, certainly not much that made life worth living. Joel had become the one thing you looked forward to. It was hard to mourn your own destruction when there wasn’t anything left that was really worth living for. 

You tried to run, slipping in the mud as you went. But you were turned around, too panicked to look at street signs or pay close enough attention and, when you wound up at a dead end, you were cornered, the men closing in on you as you backed into a wall. 

“Please,” you whispered. “It won’t make a difference to him or to FEDRA, if you want to hurt them, I’m not the way to do it and…” 

“Maybe not,” Pickett smiled in a way that was more like the bearing of teeth than an actual smile. “But you sure will be fun.” 

Your eyes were so glued to his that you didn’t even see it coming when the first blow sent you to the ground. 

***

Joel made it to the market in record time, out of breath and bones reminding him that he was in his 40s now and he’d spent his life breaking his body to survive. He scanned the stalls quickly, finding the man who was the most likely one you’d have gone to, watches and jewelry out on a table in front of him. As if anyone could afford that shit now anyway. 

“How can I help you?” The man asked, smiling up at Joel from his seat behind the table. “Looking for something special for a lady friend, perhaps?” 

“Looking for my…” he paused. Technically, you weren’t anything to him. “My friend. She would have come here yesterday with a watch…” 

“Oh,” he laughed. “Yeah, I know her. Such a pretty thing, a little disappointed she only decided to give me the time of day when she needed something…” 

“She was here?” Joel asked, brows raised. 

The man smirked. 

“Answers are gonna cost you.” 

Joel ground his teeth for a second before shooting his arm forward and roughly grabbing the back of the man’s neck, shoving his head down and slamming it into the table, the man giving a yelp of pain when his nose crushed against the wood. 

“Fuck!” He swore as Joel pressed his face against the table. He squirmed but Joel held him down. “Jesus Christ, man!” 

“Was. She. Here.” Joel’s teeth were clenched, his chest heaving. 

“She was here!” The man cried out and Joel released his neck. He panted for breath for a moment and sat up cautiously, cradling the back of his neck. “She was here, last night, she came by, wanted the watch back, she seemed desperate.” 

“Where’d she go from here?” Joel demanded. 

“What?” 

“Where!” Joel screamed, hand curling into a fist, ready to beat the answer out of him. 

“Back the way she came!” He covered his head with his arms. “Same place you came from what I could see, please!” 

Joel stepped back. 

“When was it?” 

“Late!” The man said quickly. “Late, she came by late. Right at the end of the day, I was closing up shop, it was dark and raining…” 

So you’d made it this far. You just hadn’t made it back home. 

“Anyone who runs around here who would give her trouble?” Joel asked. “Keep her from comin’ home?” 

“Plenty of people,” the man looked at him like he was insane. Joel glowered at him again and he flinched. “But most likely, Pickett’s gang, saw a few of them last night prowling around, they’ve been causing trouble around here lately. If she ran into trouble, it’s probably with them!” 

Joel nodded slowly. Pickett. He knew him. That was the man he’d saved you from before, the jackass had been building up a following of FEDRA hating idiots who seemed bent on causing trouble and hurting people as a way to feel strong by being cruel. 

He knew where to find them. 

Joel ran there, a crumbling building FEDRA hadn’t done anything with yet that he and Tommy had run drugs to a few times. He pulled the knife he kept at his belt free before he pushed the door open. Whether you were here or not, these were men he wouldn’t care about killing. 

The first one was just inside the door. Probably meant to be standing guard but not paying attention, flipping through an old Playboy instead. Joel caught him off guard. He wrapped his hand around the handle of the knife and used it to bolster his punch, the blow landing so hard the man fell backwards off his stool. Joel kicked his gun away and kneeled on the man’s chest, putting the blade to his throat. 

“Your boss bring a woman here last night?” Joel asked. 

“Not your business, is it?” The man sneered. Joel ground his teeth, covering the man’s mouth to muffle his screams before taking the knife in his hand and thrusting it into the man’s shoulder. Joel waited until he quieted some, gasping below his palm, before he spoke again. 

“Scream and I’ll gut you like a fuckin’ fish,” Joel snarled. “Now I’m just about done askin’ nicely. Did your boss bring a woman here last night?” 

“Yes!” He said, pleading. “He did, she’s still here, I think she’s still alive, they’re on the second floor, please…” 

Joel freed the knife and thrust it into the man’s throat. He didn’t need him anymore. He picked up the gun. 

It was easy, finding you then. He shot men as they approached, only half a dozen or so between him and you. But none of them were Pickett. 

He found the room he was sure you were in, two men stationed at the door who fired at him when he came around the corner. He ducked out of sight, readied his stolen weapon and exposed himself just enough to shoot. He dropped them both before they could land a shot on him. He took their ammo and changed his clip before listening at the door for a moment. It was quiet. 

Joel opened the door slowly, cautiously, but he didn’t need to. You were the only one inside, on the ground in an unnatural looking position. He holstered the gun and ran to you, kneeling beside your prone form. There was a rattle in your breath and you’d been beaten to hell. Even in the dim light, he could see the cuts on your skin, the parts of you he could see swollen and discolored. They’d savaged you, your body broken and bleeding, and you’d only been out here because of him. Because he’d been so angry at you for something that wasn’t your fault. Fuck, you were the only thing left he cared about besides Tommy and you were bleeding because of him. If you died because of him, if he’d failed you the way he’d failed Sarah…

“Please,” you rasped, trying to lift your head but giving up, your eyes closed. Your voice surprised Joel, he hadn’t expected you to be conscious. “Please… I don’t…” 

“It’s OK Baby Doll,” Joel said, his voice thick. “It’s me, you’re OK now. Gonna take real good care of you, you’re alright…” 

“Joel?” You lifted your head and managed to open one eye. The other was swollen shut. “Joel, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” 

Before he had a chance to stop you from moving, you reached a shaky hand into the pocket of your jeans and pulled out the watch. You held it out to him, your fingers bloody. 

“I don’t think it’s any more broken,” you winced. “I tried to protect it, I’m sorry…” 

He took it from you, your blood on the face and the band, a tightness in his throat he was struggling to breathe around. 

“S’OK Baby Doll,” he said, putting it on his wrist quickly and reached for your head, to try to brush some bloody hair back from your skin, but you flinched away from him. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, it’s not your fault, none of this is your fault.” 

You took a deep, shaky breath like you were going to argue with him, but you didn’t get the chance. 

“Look who it is.” 

Joel stiffened, getting to his feet slowly, turning to face him. 

“Almost expected you to not show up,” Pickett smiled. “She seemed damn sure she didn’t mean anything to ya, swore up and down that you wouldn’t even notice she was gone.” Joel’s stomach twisted. “Took you so long I was starting to believe her.” 

Pickett prowled closer. 

“Course I’d hoped she’d be enough to draw you out,” he said. “Getting tired of tip-toeing around you and your fuckin’ brother. But if she wasn’t, at least she was fun. Didn’t even get a chance to let my guys have the real fun with her yet, though. Figured I’d see if we could knock her teeth out first, bet she’d suck real good then. But looks like you took care of them, so I guess she’s off the hook.” 

Joel roared and lunged for Pickett, swinging for him as he did. The other man had either underestimated Joel or overestimated himself, because he tried to dodge him and failed, Joel’s shoulder catching him in the chest and sending him sprawling to the ground. Before he had a chance to even get his bearings, Joel was on top of him, screaming as he pummeled him, raining the blows down on his face again and again and again. 

For the first time since you’d disappeared, Joel felt like he was really doing something. This man had taken you, hurt you, was going to do more to you. Joel was doing what he was supposed to do. He was protecting you. He felt it in every blow he landed on the man’s face, in every collapsing structure below his skin, in every splash of blood. It wasn’t until he had stopped breathing and the blood had stopped pouring from his open wounds that he stilled, panting for breath as he looked at the mangled face of the man below him. 

He stood, flexing his hand and looking at it, the split open knuckles, the mix of your blood and his own and Pickett’s on the watch. He wiped his hand on his shirt and went back to you, kneeling again. 

“Joel,” you whimpered. 

“He’s dead,” Joel said, his voice thick. “They’re all dead. Warned ‘em. Told ‘em what would happen if they fucked with you.” 

He watched you work to swallow around your damaged throat as you nodded. 

“You’re safe now,” he said softly, fingertips gently tracing your face where you didn’t look battered. You flinched at first but relaxed. “Need to wait a bit to take you home. Too bright outside right now, FEDRA fucks would stop us…” 

“Don’t need to worry about me,” you struggled to sit up for a moment before giving up and going limp on the floor. “It’s OK. Already did more than you should have. Go home in case FEDRA comes poking around and…” 

“Not leaving you here,” he said gruffly. 

You winced as you swallowed and fought to open the one eye you could. 

“Don’t put yourself at risk for me,” you managed. “I’m not worth it, you know that and…” 

“You’re worth it, Baby Doll,” he said softly, his hand on your face. “About the only thing in this fuckin’ place that is.”

You flinched as you frowned. 

“No,” you shook your head a little. “No, you said…” 

“Don’t matter what I said,” he cut you off, trying to ignore the stabbing guilt in his chest. Fuck, the things he’d said to you. “I didn’t mean it, didn’t mean a fuckin’ word of it. I was pissed at myself, I was hurting, I took it out on you and I never should have said or done any of it, Baby Doll, never. I didn’t mean it, not a word of it and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it back, I wish I could take all of it back…” 

He lay beside you, delicately holding your face, his eyes tracing over you. He memorized the damage done, the signs of all the pain he knew you were in. All because he hadn’t told you about Sarah, because he’d hurt you, because he’d failed you. He wouldn’t do that again. He was not going to let you suffer because of him again. You tried to move closer to him but he put his hand on your hip and held you still, instead moving toward you. You winced as you pressed against him but it didn’t stop you. He held you gently, feeling you breathe against him. 

“I’m sorry, Joel,” your voice was muffled. “I didn’t mean to, I promise…” 

“Shh,” he hushed you, tears stinging his eyes. He’d done this to you. Made you feel like, even this broken, it was your fault. “It’s not your fault. None of it. I’ve got you, Baby Doll. Gonna take care of you. Gonna take such good care of you if you let me. Please let me.” 

You were quiet, passing out against him. He held you like that, letting himself feel for you, letting himself fall into that dangerous place with you. He stopped fighting the gravity of loving you until it was dark enough to safely carry you home.

He got you cleaned up, patching you up as best he could before giving you some pain meds from a stash he hadn’t traded away yet and carrying you to bed. He held you there, too, his body curved around yours, shielding you from anything that could hurt you and promised himself, silently, that he’d never see you like this again. Because he was going to take care of you. He was going to protect you, he was going to love you, until there was nothing else left of him and he was dead and gone. 

He ran a gentle hand over your head and pressed a kiss to your hair, the glass of the watch reflecting the light of the moon, sending fractured splotches of light on your wall. He wasn’t going to fail again. That much, Joel knew. 

[vroomvroomwee]

I don't think enough people realise how incredible Aziraphale is.

He's always known how good and kind Crowley is. Even from the beginning. Now imagine being in his place, after meeting such a wonderful and sweet angel, and hearing that he's fallen, that he's evil and wicked. No wonder he was sceptical and on edge at the garden... except Crowley was still the same, chatty, witty, and funny angel he met before the beginning. Crowleys fall terrifies him because in his mind, if someone like that can get sent to Hell, then what hope is there for me?

So he learns just how thin the line is between being an angel and a demon, just how close he's cutting it, just how little it takes for him to fall as well.

In his eyes, Crowley's brilliant. He's resourceful, intelligent, capable, everything he wants to be. Everything he's told he should be. And it creates so much confusion in his mind. How can someone like that fall while I'm still here? And it doesn't help one single bit that he's falling in love with him.

Aziraphale isn't stupid. Despite what everyone says, he's very in tune with his emotions. So much so that Crowley fails to keep up with his logic and decision-making. He realises that he's falling in love with Crowley, and that causes panick in him. He's an angel. He's not supposed to fall for temptation.

So he has two options: try to prove to himself Crowley's good and therefore justify his own feelings, or to prove Crowley's evil, and that's why he fell. So... in a way, he does both.

Every time Crowley tries to convince him of his malice, Aziraphale proves him wrong, sees right through him. All the while constantly putting a wedge between them, of good and evil. "But, you, are fallen." "I'm good, you, are evil." Even though he knows deep down that's not the truth, which is precisely why he's saying it, he knows Crowley is good, just as he knows he himself isn't fully. And no one must ever find that out.

Not only is he keeping Crowley at a distance for his own safety, but also for Crowleys. Sacrificing both their happiness for each others safety. He knows precisely what Hell will do to him if they ever find out how kind he really is.

And it would be very very simple if he just stopped hanging out with Crowley, except... he can't. No matter how hard he tries he's always pulled back to him. And over time he's testing his limits, what can I do? Am I allowed to do this? Food? That's forbidden? The Arangement? etc.

And you can't really blame him for fearing Falling. Not just burning in boiling sulfur as each of his cells is being transformed in the most agonising way, but also having to spend eternity there as well as the humiliation and resentment he'll get from Heaven. "My lot don't send rude notes." he knows how horrible and terrifying it is down there, and he is all too aware how he won't be able to cope. Too weak, too mellow, too soft.

Crowleys kindness is constantly putting him on edge because he just can't understand why he's a demon. While angels like Gabriel and Michael, who always put him down, are apathetic towards humanity, are narcissistic and emotionless... are still up there. 6000 years he's spent wondering when his time will come. When he'll be pulled down to Hell.

He's so goddamn kind that it took him 6000 years to realise Heaven is not all that it should be. Kinder than Heaven could ever hope to be (and after the "stay back" from ep6 we can see how thay he is capable of being harsh and ruthless, which means he actively chooses to be kind, which makes him all the more extraordinary and astonishing for it). And I'm not even going to go into the strength it takes to manage to break out of the brainwashing that Heaven has done to him. Thousands of years of being humiliated, feeling worthless, not good enough, not angelic enough, not even appreciated. And despite all that feedback and ridicule, he's never given in, never relented, never let anyone modify or change him, has never lost his kindness, his softness, his generosity even after all that he's seen and been through. And that is so fucking incredible.

Validation and praise being at his fingertips, if only he could let go of his individuality, his uniqueness. Of himself. Thousands of years of it, and he has never surrendered to it. Never betrayed himself, kept his pride and his self-worth despite other people trying to rid him of it.

And he knows this. He's too clever not to. He knows just how thin the ice is he's standing on. Even at the beginning, which is not long after the Fall if I might point out, he's defying orders and keeping Adam and Eve safe, risking his own safety for the safety of others. And he still doesn't back down.

But he can't for the life of him keep away from Crowley. Because of how much love he has for him, how much affection. "He's risking his entire existence," and he'll do it again because that's who he is. (Not many people will put their lives on the line for the person that tried to annihilate them, completely destroy them in every plane of existence. Actually, no one ever will. Except him.)

He. Never. Backs. Down. Not from Armaggedon and not from the Second Coming.

It's not that he doesn't love Crowley enough, it's that he loves him too much. This is an angel so full of love that he's scattering himself, breaking himself, tearing himself apart, trying to give it to everyone. To Crowley, to humanity, to Earth. He's risking destruction for the things he loves. Both physically and emotionally. He would sacrifice his own happiness, his own future with Crowley just to save humanity. And he does it again and again and that is so fucking amazing, so fucking incredible that I don't believe such a selfless character exists in any other piece of media or television.

(Also, this is all mostly referring to his emotional strength, but let's not forget how he faced literal Satan and smote around 20 demons in just a matter of seconds.)

Edit: Just wanted to add what one of you pointed out in the comments.

Aziraphale realises that running away with Crowley isn't really a relaxing and peaceful life as Crowley thinks it is. Far away from humanity and it's pleasures that they both love and engage with, something that brought them close in the first place due to their shared love for it, and constantly on the run from Heaven and Hell. Aziraphale is doing this for Crowley, so that he can be happy, so that both of them can be together. Not only that but he offered Crowley his angel status back, since he thought that would make him happy again, since he hoped that he could one day see that same smile that Crowley had when they first met, that smile that he hasn't been able to bring back all these years.

Aziraphale is now in Heaven, the last place he wants to be, the place he barely escaped with his life from, a place that hates him, filled with angels that despise him and want to see him suffer or worse, and he's utterly and completely alone.

He's trying to save the entire universe alone.

Think about that for a little bit.

Edit 2: I think it's worth noting that Aziraphale isn't perfect. And that's the point. He doesn't need to be perfect. He's naive and gullible and sees the world in black and white. He still needs to learn, to grow, to deal with these things. Soon enough, he'll realise that despite all the hope he has that he could fix Heaven, it just can't be mended, something Crowley has learned a long time ago and desperately tries to shoe him. He'll realise the system is corrupt, and no matter how hard he tries, it won't change because it wasn't designed that way. And it just makes him all the more brilliant. He isn't perfect. He has flaws, and he makes mistakes. He's an angel, but he's the most human of them all. And he's incredible all the more for it.

[slaymitchabernathy]

Christmas Cookies & Cats

The Presidential Mansion boasts the finest of rooms, all fit for hosting the largest parties.

It has a ballroom, several dining rooms, sitting rooms, parlor rooms, billiard rooms, and the grounds for when the weather is nice.

In all his years of living here, Coriolanus has never set foot in the kitchen.

He has a full staff of cooks so there's really been no point in coming to the kitchen. Until now.

He watches his wife with a soft smile on his lips while she leans over the counter and rolls out a thick ball of cookie dough.

Three years ago, on a rainy afternoon, Coriolanus Snow met Soarynn Nightingale. He had been invited to attend a gallery opening at a nearby museum. He knew how those things went, he'd walk around, act interested and mingle, maybe get some of those little sandwiches he liked so much. He had been mindlessly strolling through the gallery when he stumbled across the most beautiful piece of artwork he'd ever seen.

And she also happened to be looking at a piece of artwork at the time but he only had eyes for her.

Soarynn Nightingale had bewitched him. He couldn't get enough of her, couldn't stop talking about her, talking to her. He took her on countless dates, showered her with praise, spoiled her with gifts.

As far as he was concerned, she deserved the world.

She had been a bit hesitant at first, not that he could blame her. He was the President of Panem, fiercely intimidating and ruthless. But she made him better, kinder, softer.

And now, apparently a baker.

He secretly hopes that he can just watch her do all the work and not have to participate but Soarynn has a knack for getting her way, so if his wife wants him to help her bake cookies, then he'll help her bake cookies.

He was previously holed up in his office going over some paperwork and reports when she shyly entered, asking him if they had any flour.

He thought she was asking for flowers which they had plenty of but she was apparently determined to bake some cookies for the holidays. "We never made Christmas cookies last year," she had said to him, allowing him to pull her into his lap, "it could be our new tradition," she had added so sweetly. And he couldn't say no to her request, to his sweet girl.

So here they were, Soarynn, Coriolanus, and...Petunia?

Coriolanus watches the kitchen door swing open but no one is there which is rather odd, it's odd until he hears the familiar sound of purring and he knows that Petunia has found them.

Last year for Christmas, Soarynn had begged for a cat. A kitten to be more specific.

Coriolanus wasn't really too fond of animals, they were so messy and unpredictable. But Soarynn had argued that a cat would be good company for her and would stay out of his way. Cats were quiet, cats cleaned themselves, cats never bothered people.

He must've gotten her the only cat that didn't think it was a cat.

On Christmas morning, Soarynn opened a box and found a little white kitten inside of it with a bright red bow wrapped around its neck. She was so excited, so grateful, so in love with her new kitten. She immediately named it Petunia, and Petunia immediately became obsessed with Soarynn and her attention.

Wherever Soarynn went, Petunia was steps behind her. In the bedroom, in the shower, in his study, Petunia was everywhere.

She never bothered their household staff or anyone who came to visit, the only person she truly went out of her way to bother was Coriolanus.

Ironic since he's the one who pays all of the bills.

She loves to eat his socks, chew holes in them for him to find later. She'll curl right up on his pillow even though she has a perfectly good cat bed. She'll sit on the ledge of the bathtub if he tries to relax, watching him with those creepy eyes.

Her eyes are nearly identical to Soarynn's when it comes to color, where they differ is the looks she gives him. Petunia loathes him and he's not afraid to say that the feeling is mutual. At least he is willing to put their differences aside for Soarynn.

"Oh, there you are darling," Soarynn says, smiling down at the feline. Coriolanus watches Petunia slowly walk up to him, her fluffy tail held high like she owns the place. She walks right by him but he's not so easily fooled, she'll wait for the perfect moment and then attack him.

"Coryo, could you get some baking sheets?" He warily eyes Petunia, "Of course darling." Coriolanus rummages around for some baking sheets and finally finds them in a drawer, "How many do you need?"

"Um, I think two should be enough."

Coriolanus hums and walks back over to the counter with two large baking sheets, "Isn't she so cute Coryo?" He nearly jumps when he realizes that Petunia is now on the counter, watching Soarynn roll out the dough. "I don't think it's very sanitary to have her on the counter darling," he tells her.

Soarynn frowns, she loves to include Petunia in all the things they do but he might just have to draw the line when it comes to handling food. "Put her on the floor and she can watch from there," he suggests, knowing that he's already fighting a losing battle. Soarynn thinks it over and finally, comes to a decision, "Alright, I suppose it'll just be for a little while."

Coriolanus watches with a smirk as she picks up a protesting Petunia who lets out a loud yowl when she's put back onto the floor, "I'm sorry darling, but Coryo is right, you can't be on the counter right now," Soarynn gently explains to her cat, as if Petunia can understand her.

Maybe she can because she looks right over at Coriolanus and he can see the fire in her eyes.

He might have just made a fatal mistake.

꧁ ꧂

Thirty minutes later, cookies have been cut and are ready to be put in the oven. "They look perfect darling," Coriolanus praises, kissing the top of Soarynn's head. She smiles up at him, lacing her fingers with his, "They do look very pretty," she agrees, staring at all the different shapes they made with the cookie cutters.

They have trees, bows, stars, snowmen and snowflakes. Coriolanus found using the cookie cutters was much more fun than making the dough and actually enjoyed himself while using the different shapes. "We'll just pop these in the oven and then we can decorate!" Soarynn says, bouncing on her toes with excitement.

Coriolanus helps her slide the baking sheets into the oven and sets the timer for fifteen minutes, "We'll need dye for the frosting," she tells him, her tone making it sound very urgent. He nods, figuring they must have some sort of food coloring dye somewhere in this massive kitchen.

He just has to find it.

They both begin to scour the kitchen and pantry for any sort of colored dye that they can add to the white frosting but find nothing. Soarynn sighs, running a hand through her long blonde hair, "I swear I saw some a while ago...maybe it was in the cellar. I'll be right back Coryo, keep an eye on the cookies!"

Coriolanus gives her a salute and dutifully stands by the oven while Soarynn goes to the cellar. They have about a minute left after all that searching until the cookies are ready and Petunia is beginning to freak him out. It's just the two of them now and she's sitting about six feet away from him, not blinking, not moving.

He clears his throat and goes to open the over, "Okay then," he mutters to himself, "very creepy cat."

The cookies smell delicious though and he pulls both sheets out and places them on the counter to cool. Petunia seems relatively interested in this and hops back onto the counter much to his dismay. She goes to touch the metal sheets and Coriolanus is quick to stop her, "No Petunia," he says sternly, "you'll burn your paw."

The last thing he needs is for Petunia to get hurt because it'll somehow be all his fault.

Petunia, of course, doesn't care and hisses at him. Well, two can play that game. He hisses right back and enjoys the confused face she makes when finally challenged.

Soarynn walks in a moment later holding a box and wearing a bright smile, "I found it!"

Coriolanus looks over at her and grins, "Good job darling, I just took the cookies out." Soarynn busies herself getting the frosting into different little bowls while Coriolanus stays busy trying to keep Petunia from killing herself.

It's harder than it looks.

He, eventually, when Soarynn isn't looking, scoops the cat off the counter and takes her outside to the hallway. She immediately swats at him the second he puts her on the ground but he's so past caring, "We'll see you in a bit," he tells her, walking back into the kitchen. He grabs the first heavy thing he sees which just so happens to be a bag of flour and puts it in front of the door so Petunia can't push it open.

He hears a small thump come from the other side and grins, she can't get in.

Coriolanus dusts off his hands, proud of his work, "Coryo?" He freezes, he's already been caught. "Yes, darling?"

He looks over his shoulder at Soarynn who's holding a canister of sprinkles, "I think we're ready," she says sweetly. He instantly relaxes and pads over to where she's standing, "Excellent, which one are you going to start with?"

Soarynn bites her lip, contemplating which cookie will be her first canvas, and points at the star, "That one," she decides. Coriolanus grabs it from the sheet and places it in front of her, "Good choice darling.

He grabs a tree for himself and begins covering it with green frosting, actually enjoying this little holiday activity now that there's not a fluffy white cat trying to bother him.

It's not even the cookies that make it so enjoyable, it's Soarynn simply being near him that makes him so happy. He loves watching her decorate her cookies so intricately while chattering about one thing or another. She truly could say whatever she wanted and he'd be nodding along.

Things get a little messy when he accidentally gets some frosting on her nose. Soarynn gasps and playfully shoves him, "Hey! Keep the frosting on the cookies!" Coriolanus chuckles and leans down to wipe the frosting away, "Oops, you're just so sweet that I thought you were another cookie."

Soarynn rolls her eyes at his shameless flirting and sets her cookie and knife down, "I'm gonna go wipe this off in the bathroom, I'll be right back." Coriolanus presses a kiss to her cheek before she goes and finishes up his last cookie, a light blue snowflake with little pearl sprinkles along the edges. It looks very fancy if he's being honest.

He's so preoccupied with finishing up his task that he doesn't even realize that Soarynn, in an effort to leave the kitchen, had to move the bag of flour. Petunia jumps onto the counter a second later and then he jumps. She walks along the edge of the surface, watching as he remains frozen. She stops right by the two plates of cookies they've decorated and sniffs them.

Coriolanus holds his breath when she sniffs one of Soarynn's cookies. She passes over it and sniffs the snowflake he just finished decorating before looking him right in the eye. Without hesitation, she swats at it with her paw and sends it flying onto the floor.

Coriolanus gasps, that little diva.

It's like she knew it was his cookie.

"That's it," he says, setting his own knife down, "we're going to have to make some new rules for you Petunia."

She doesn't even seem to be listening to him, in fact, she seems to be sniffing for another cookie to knock onto the floor. Soarynn walks back into the kitchen and he sighs in relief, maybe she can talk some sense into Petunia. Soarynn's cheerful mood drops when she notices the cookie on the floor and she frowns, looking at the cookie before looking back at him, "If you didn't want to decorate with me then you didn't have to," she mumbles.

Coriolanus can't believe this is happening.

"No, darling I did. I did, I do! Petunia knocked it off the plate I swear!"

Petunia flops onto her back, paws in the air, her most innocent face coming into play while he accuses her of something she did moments ago. Soarynn shakes her head and grabs Petunia, cradling her like a spoiled baby, "You can't blame her for everything," she tells him, "she just wanted to be near us."

She wanted to be near you, he wants to say but doesn't. It's pointless as long as Petunia is here to state her case by purring in Soarynn's arms.

"I'll see you at dinner," Soarynn says with a sigh, walking out before he can plead his case once more. Petunia looks over at him with a smug look before the door closes behind them, leaving Coriolanus alone with one cookie on the floor.

He sighs, he didn't want to hurt Soarynn's feelings and he technically didn't but that doesn't even matter. She's still hurt and he's honestly still offended. He'll have to make it up to her.

But how?

꧁ ꧂

Four hours later and Coriolanus is exhausted.

He's never put something together so quickly before but he's more than pleased with the outcome. He knew words wouldn't matter to Soarynn, not when actions always speak louder than words when it comes to his wife. No, he needed to show her how much he cared.

He steps back to admire the pillow fort he's created, it's very structurally sound and if he can sit inside of it, then she can too.

He had called for her to be brought to their formal living room ten minutes ago but he knows her well enough to know that she'll take her sweet time if she's angry.

And she's very angry.

He eyes the plates of cookies he set up, hoping Petunia doesn't knock over another one to get back at him. He's just glad she didn't touch any of Soarynn's, not when she worked so hard on them.

He hears her soft footsteps approaching, she didn't take too long which he appreciates. He looks over at her and she looks so beautiful, even in her pajamas. Her expression is closed off, guarded but that quickly fades when she sees what he's done for her.

The fort, the cookies, the soft candlelight mixed with the Christmas tree.

He knocked it out of the park.

"Oh," she says softly, taking another step towards him, "oh, did you do all of this Coryo?"

He nods, a few years ago he wouldn't be caught dead doing something like this, building a fort, decorating cookies. But he's changed, she changed him.

"I did," he answers, scratching the back of his neck, "to apologize to you, and to show you that I cherish the time I get to spend with you no matter what we're doing." Soarynn crosses the room and examines the outside of the fort he built, gently touching the blankets, "You built this yourself?"

Coriolanus comes up behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder, "I did," he confirms, wrapping his arms around her waist, "and I love you very much darling, even if I'm too busy to say it. You're my entire world Soarynn and my main priority will always be your happiness."

Soarynn melts into his touch, signaling that all is forgiven. She's never been able to stay mad at him for too long which is another thing that makes her perfect, she isn't quick to anger but she's fast to forgive.

"I love you too," she whispers, resting her hands on top of his, "and I'm sorry for getting mad I just, I just started thinking maybe you thought the cookies were silly and a waste of time," she mumbles the last part.

Coriolanus gently kisses her cheek, "Nothing is a waste of time when I'm with you."

Soarynn turns around to face him, resting her hands on his chest while he rests his hands on the small of her back, "Really?" Her eyes sparkle and he'd do anything to keep them that way for the rest of their lives. He leans down and softly pecks her lips, "Really."

They stay like that, happy and content, kissing one another as if they have all the time in the world.

Which they do.

When Soarynn finally pulls away, she's smiling again and she looks so gorgeous when she shows off her pearly white teeth, "Can we go inside the fort?" She's practically bouncing on her toes with anticipation and he chuckles, "Yes, darling, we can go inside."

He lets her go and watches Soarynn carefully crawl into the fort, gasping when she sees the pillows and television he managed to get inside. It wasn't easy carrying the television from the table to the floor but he managed to do it without breaking anything. "I thought we might watch a film," he explains, getting down onto his hands and knees to join her.

Soarynn looks so adorable curled inside of the fort, her eyes wide with wonder. He added some spare Christmas lights as well, for the ambiance of course. Soarynn always appreciates things like that.

"It's perfect," she tells him, scooting over so he can sit. Coriolanus wears a proud smile, building pillow forts isn't exactly his specialty but he pulled it off pretty well if he were to say so himself. He makes himself comfortable on the pillows and wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest, "What do you want to watch darling?"

It's a scary question to ask because Soarynn never has an immediate answer. She mulls over their choices for a good ten minutes, weighing out the pros and cons of each plot even though in his opinion, all Christmas movies are the same. Terribly corny and horribly written.

Still, they make her happy and if there's a teary-eyed moment, he can always offer up his shoulder for her to cry on. It's a win-win really.

When she finally decides on a film, they settle into each other's warmth and Coriolanus grabs a blanket to put over them, Soarynn always runs cold.

He's always thought it was rather coincidental how her hands were always warm and his were ice cold. She could get cold in the middle of summer whereas he was always running hot, asking someone to crack open a window. Sleeping in the same bed is always fun since Soarynn prefers fifteen blankets to be on top of them whereas Coriolanus wishes they could sleep naked and outside in the cool evening air.

Opposites attract though.

The film is almost done an hour later and Soarynn already fell asleep, despite claiming that she'd stay awake for the whole thing. He doesn't mind though, just getting to hold her is enough.

Coriolanus is about to drift off as well when he hears a meow come from the fort's entrance. He looks over at the makeshift entryway and finds Petunia slowly padding towards them. She seems very curious about this fort, probably because it's on the floor and her humans are never on the floor like she is.

She goes right to Soarynn when she sees her and curls up in her lap, rubbing her head against the blanket. Coriolanus thinks about kicking her out, but she can stay just this once. He gingerly rests a hand on her head, scratching behind her ears the way Soarynn does, and to his surprise, she doesn't bite him.

A Christmas miracle really.

Coriolanus lets out a content sigh, maybe Petunia isn't so bad.

But he'll still continue to hide his socks from her.

Some things never change.

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[wh0r3-for-klaus]

draco malfoy x sister whose dating theo and like draco is lowkey a bully to her and she takes the spell for one of them and dies and they reminisce

I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but I hope you like it! I tried to make it so they reminisced together and separately. Warnings: death, grief, Draco being remorseful for his d!ckhead past self, I think that's it? Let me know what you think in the comments. If you want to be added to my tag list, leave a comment. My works are not to be reposted.

Beneath the Malfoy Oaks.

~~~

Dinner in Malfoy manor was a formal affair, and the long dining table was set with silver and crystal. As y/n and Theo sat together, Draco joined them, his posture stiff and his eyes cold.

“Lovely to see you two making yourselves at home,” Draco said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Although, I must say, it’s rather amusing watching my best mate choose such unsavory company.”

Theo kept his voice calm. “We’re here to enjoy a meal, Draco. Can’t we have one evening without your disdain?”

Draco’s smile was tight. “Oh, but this is just the beginning. I’d hate for y/n to forget what it means to be a Malfoy."

~~~

Draco couldn’t stop remembering the last family dinner that he shared with y/n, he wished he would have been kinder to his twin, he had always been so cruel to her, but he didn’t even know why. Draco wished he could have told y/n how much he admired her, she never let her emotions control her actions and he needed her to keep him in check.

The large oak trees that stood in the middle of the Malfoy estate gardens had red and orange leaves, the air was getting a bit chillier, and the days were shorter, it was close to winter. The gardens, more precisely the oak trees, had always been y/n’s favorite place to escape to when the siblings were home from Hogwarts. She would most of the day just sat beneath the two oaks reading or just looking up at the sky, y/n had a habit of falling asleep in this spot too on occasion.

Draco looked down at the blanket hung over his arm, the once pristine purple and black quilt was now old and had started to rip, but y/n did love the quilt, and it showed how well loved the blanket was. The silvery-blonde male laid the quilt on the ground beneath the two oaks, in the middle of the large trees, in the same spot his siter always would and sat down on the worn blanket.

~~~

The Slytherin common room was unusually quiet for a Saturday evening, the usual murmur of students replaced by an uncomfortable silence as Draco Malfoy approached y/n and Theo Nott, who were sitting close together by the fireplace with their hands intertwined.

Draco’s gaze was icy as he swept into the room, his presence commanding attention and declared self-importance.

“Must be nice to have such a cozy little corner to yourself,” Draco sneered, his eyes flicking disdainfully over y/n. “Too bad it comes with the price of your dignity.”

Theo’s jaw tightened, but y/n stood, stepping between them. “Draco, what do you want this time? Don’t you have something better to do with your time?”

“Just making sure my best chaser isn’t being dragged down by anyone who isn’t up to our standards,” Draco said, his voice dripping with condescension and cruelty.

Once the Malfoy male had walked away, Theo turned to his beloved girlfriend and looked at her concern and sympathy. "I'm sorry, amor mio. It's not fair for him to treat this way without any reason, and even then you don't deserve his cruelty." Theo's arms wrapped around the Malfoy girl and he pulled her into a tight embrace, which the girl happily returned.

~~~

Theo thought back to that day in the common room, it was only four months ago but it felt like years, wondering if he had chosen to stand up for y/n if things would be different. If she would still be here, standing beside him with her nearly silver hair pulled back all pretty and her lips pulled up into a smile, her hand held in his as they looked at the rose bushes that were no longer blooming for the winter.

The once heavenly scented rosebushes that y/n always smelled nearly identical too, were now devoid of any flowers even though the thorns remain. Theo wondered if the roses died when she did, if the thorns remained as a reminder that even after the beauty is gone the danger still lurks. Flicking the ash of his cigarette onto the ground, Theo felt like there was a hole in his heart, where y/n had claimed the moment he met her.

~~~

The blonde-haired male sat beside someone he considered to be one of his best mates, someone who would have potentially been his brother-in-law a few years from now, Theodore Nott. The two men sat beneath the two Malfoy oak trees on the purple and black quilt, a box filled with parchment stained with ink sat in front of them, the box was one of the many things’ y/n had left covered in her favorite book quotes and little drawings.

 It was y/n’s safe keepings box that was kept under the floorboards in her closet, so she always knew where it was, and she could look back on memories that were import to her. Now it was filled with the little trinkets that the younger Malfoy twin had placed inside, and the many letters that she had given to her brother and her boyfriend over the last seven years.

Y/n had only been gone for four months, but if you asked Draco and Theo, they’d say it couldn’t have been such a short time ago, it felt like it had been four years. The months have seemed to just drag on and to the rest of the wizarding world, it seemed like the two men were either just going through the motions or numbing their grief with alcohol or other substances.

Theo reached forward and grabbed the first piece of parchment from the box, being careful not to cause any damage to the page. He smiled when he read the first few words that were written, turning his head towards Draco and handing it over. A quote from the play “Hélas, Je Me Suis Transfiguré les Pieds” was written at the top of the page, the rest of the piece of parchment was covered in drawings and spells with their use/purpose.

“Y/n really did like to read that play, didn’t she read it like eight times in like a month?” Draco asked with a hint of amusement, his lips were upturned in a slight smile as his fingers faintly ghosted over the handwritten quote that his sister had written. He knew that his younger twin had liked to write this line from her favorite play, he was never sure why, he was sure the girl didn’t even know herself, but he had found it annoying then.

“Yeah, she really did love to read, it didn’t really matter what she was reading as long as it wasn’t boring.” Theo said with a small chuckle while shaking his head, his brown eyes were focused on the next piece of parchment that he was lifting from the box.

~~~

The corridor of Hogwarts seemed to freeze in time, the echo of the battle outside muffled as if the world had narrowed to the space between them. Draco’s and Theo’s eyes were wide with terror, watching helplessly as the dark figure advanced, wand raised, a curse poised to strike. Their breath came in short, ragged gasps.

In the chaos, it was as if nothing else existed but the impending doom and Draco’s sister, y/n, rushing forward with a determination that seemed both fierce and fragile. Her face, usually calm and composed, was now a mask of resolute bravery and determination.

Y/n, her light hair tumbling in disarray, reached them just as the curse left the enemy’s wand. Her own wand flicked in a desperate counter-curse, but she was too late. The dark magic surged forward, relentless and unstoppable.

“Y/N, NO!” Their scream was a raw, desperate sound as Theo lunged forward, but she was faster, throwing herself in front of them.

The curse hit her with a sickening, sickly glow. For a moment, time seemed to slow, the world holding its breath. Y/n’s eyes widened in pain and shock, and then her body crumpled to the ground with a shattering finality.

Draco and Theo rushed to her side, Theo’s hands trembling as he cradled her limp form. Her eyes, still open, looked up at them with a serene acceptance. The light in them was fading, dimming like the last embers of a once-roaring fire quickly.

“Y/n, no, stay with me. Please,” Draco begged; his voice choked with tears. He shook her gently, desperately searching for a sign that she was still there, that she could hear him and would be okay.

Her lips moved slightly, forming words that were barely a whisper, but they were enough. “I... I’m sorry...”

Her breath grew shallow, and then it stopped altogether. The finality of her absence hit both men with an unbearable weight, leaving Draco and Theo alone in the shattered remnants of what was once in this world.

~~~~

The sun had set a long while ago and it had grown cold, but the two men still sat beneath the two oak trees in the Malfoy gardens on the purple and black quilt. The box of keepsakes had been gone through long ago, but now they just discussed different stories about y/n. They weren’t ready to say goodbye, the realization that they would never get to say anything to her face to face hadn’t fully sunk in, they didn’t want to accept that she was gone.

Draco and Theo thought back to that day in the corridors of Hogwarts, to the sound of battle and carnage that left many dead, injured, grieving, or traumatized, To the day that y/n had jumped in front of them to stop a curse from hitting them. Even though Draco had never been anything short of a bully she still saved him. Y/n sacrificed herself to save her boyfriend, the man that had confessed his love for her in the astronomy tower under the night sky in fourth year.

In that dark, sorrowful moment, Draco Malfoy and Theo Nott were left with nothing but the memory of y/n’s bravery, her final gift to them, and the unbearable silence of a future that would never be the same and the past that can never be rectified.

If you liked it please re-blog or like.

[bcolfanfic]

Hiii!!! to take your mind to kinder and softer things: any headcannons on josies first birthday with clegan?? will her uncles and aunts come by with truly threatrical gifts that sends buck and buckys eye twitching? will she demand to be carried around by her uncle croz and never be put down for a second? will there be some godawful birthday games that leaves her uncle curt a trip to the er because a game of pin the tail on the donkey is supremely misunderstood? will there be a quieter celebration during the nights bedtime where bucky brushes back her hair and sings happy birthday softly and buck uncharacteristically plays air guitar bc hes ever so freely playful in front of his two favorite people?

i hope everything goes well for you today and tomorrow!! sending love your way ♥️

she’s just a girl living in wyoming, of course it’s horse themed.

gale and bucky have to put it (in bold) on the invitations they send out to the guys that under no circumstances are they to get her a horse, please.

demarco texts bucky and asks on a scale of 1-10 how mad he’d actually be if someone you know- hypothetically,

an 11. we are renting one that will go back to it’s horse house at the end of the day, so don’t worry about making up for us depriving our child.

this is the first real birthday celebration she’s ever had which makes gale emotional in the lead up when they’re talking about it and she doesn’t really get it.

he gets that- he never really had birthday parties growing up either. getting to do different by his little daughter makes his heart warm.

she has a few little friends from school there but it is mostly the guys and their various families that came into town for the the festivities. and josie kinda ditches her little school friends for them, whoops.

especially her moon and sun and stars uncle crosby.

has a little moment where she gets jealous of the attention he’s giving to his youngest who is just shy of a year old. and matter o-factly informs him it’s not that baby’s birthday, ‘s mine 😾

sweet thing she thinks the baby is cute and all just wants uncle crosby to herself. croz hands the baby off, and josie is quick to park herself in his arms before he can change his mind.

she’s absolutely big enough to walk, but it’s her birthday and she’s cute so uncle crosby does haul her around all day.

rosie rosenthal STUNS with a new talking customized pop up card of himself

he even provides him own replacement batteries this time, and gale tells him they ought to throw them away but he knows they won’t.

the guys spoil that girl rotten, and if it’s with some of the noisiest toys produced in the united states then well, so be it.

kenny is one of the few that doesn’t go the noisy toys route- he gets them a membership at a local children’s museum. and writes bucky his own card that makes him tear up.

because kenny remembers the bucky he saw spiraling overseas and that he spent years and tears so worried about. and now he’s here- and he just wants his buddy to know how proud of him he is.

curt doesn’t wind up in the ER but there is a little bit of a near miss when he gets lost in the haze and whacks his good leg with the piñata stick

sweet josie gets so worried, curt laughing through the pain when he hears her ask if they’re gonna have to cut that one off too (it’s just bruised, but she’s five and doesn’t really understand the one that had to get amputated was a little more injured)

gonna decide that gale plays the guitar in this au because why not. he picked it up after he came home from the war just to learn a new skill.

him sitting on the floor against josie’s bed playing it for her at bedtime while bucky sits in her little princess bed singing to her in his arms.

both guys get a little teary eyed- for more than one reason. because their baby is growing up, they can’t help but wish she was with them for her first four birthdays and because the road to get to where they are now singing their little daughter to sleep was long. especially for bucky.

but they made it to the good life damnit. 🩵

[p-oisn]

let's get positive ! (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）

(the content below the cut contains mentions of sensitive topics such as implied su*cide & sh so pls scroll if you're uncomfortable w those !)

this is a long rant about life basically .. 💩💩

i was going to make a post like this sometime later anyways bc i felt .. like a nice person ... but i made it a bit earlier than i expected bc i saw a post from oomf that really made me think .. so here u go

this comes from my own PERSONAL experiences and this is js my point of view yk !!! im no expert on any topic HSHSJ this is js the way i cope plz dont come for me in my asks ... i am aware that it isn't the same for everyone but , i hope this message can be helpful to some extent </3

if you feel like like life is leading nowhere n you feel like giving up I PROMISE it will get better bc i felt the same for two whole years n i will say that i have improved a LOT since . yes , it took me longer than i expected but i didn't give up and you shouldn't either ! it was hard n there were times i felt like i wasn't making any progress / improvement but in the end , it still got better

be kinder (to yourself, first) ☆

i think the first step to loving yourself is to forgive yourself .. its okay to try over n over again , you're still human n i think ppl tend to forget that often bc they're so tough on theirselves . let's not forget that your body is actively trying it's best to keep u alive , your WBCs for example ! (let's appreciate these little guys for trying their best 🎉🎉) your body too , deserves to be loved back , for fighting so hard just for YOU! so pls don't hurt yourself in any way </3

appreciate yourself for achieving even the smallest of tasks because even if it wasn't something big , YOU DID IT ANYWAYS ! every small achievement of yours deserves to be appreciated . even if it's momentary happiness , appreciate yourself while it lasts . i understand that sometimes even small things could be such a hassle but you can always reward yourself later ! i personally like to buy donuts everytime i finish something (this could come in handy when you're really craving something if you get what im saying ..)

It's okay if you're going at a slower pace than other people , what matters in the end is that you get it done ! everyone is not the same so it's unfair to put yourself down for such things .. also applies to comparing yourself to someone because in the end you'll still be you .. even if you don't like it .. that makes you unique ofcourse , there's only one of you in this world so embrace yourself for that !! you're one of a kind (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

oh, but, life's the same, it's boring ... ☆

yes , a lot of days could end up being the exact same because like , there are 365 days in a year so you can except most of them to be similar .. but as a new year starts , ofc many things change without you even noticing it , you grow older ofcourse , and you could be starting a new year in school , you meet new people and so on ! if you compare your life from a year ago or even a few months ago to now , you'll surely notice a few differences atleast so .. life is not reaaaaally the same right .... everyday is a new experience ! literally anything and i mean anything could happen the next day , you could even win the lottery who knows 🤫

when i felt like everyday was the same , i tried changing my patterns .. (my current favourite thing to do is go on a walk ! sometimes i take my dog w me , it's super fun) i would do small things that i dont usually do like sketch ! or i attempt cooking something new .. but obviously there were a LOT of days where i did nothing , sometimes even weeks , and that's okay ! we all deserve days where we do nothing ESPECIALLY if you're someone who is working or js in school / college everyday .. you deserve that break

i think a big factor is being unproductive ? don't get me wrong , i still am my same unproductive self at times unfortunately , n sometimes they do get so bad that they lead to a terrible burnout .. n i went through a rly bad burnout not long ago n trust me you do not want to get this far :( how do i deal with this ? (let's take studying as an example here) well i always start off with small portions , even if it's just a page or two . n then i slowly keep increasing the amount of pages i read .. n yes ofc , i understand how brutal burnouts can get sometimes n that's why it's important to not overwhelm yourself by attempting to finish a big portion of your studies in one go .. just take it easy , let the information marinate in your head for a bit before you move on to the next topic .. so basically what im trying to say here is don't overwhelm yourself with big tasks especially when you're already burntout

friends .. they're great ☆

the thing that honestly improved my life by a mile is getting good friends .. I've had my fair share of bad friend groups so trust me when I say this , it's better to be alone than with people who drain you mentally because . you deserve someone who treats you the way you actually want to be treated .

"but it's hard to make friends" i completely get this because i am a very shy person myself </3 but i think you could start by trying to make friends online ! its easy to find someone with similar interests on the internet .. so when you feel down atleast you know that there's someone on the other side of the world who cares for you ..

but this doesn't change the fact that solitude is AMAZING too (tbh i could go on for a really long time on how i love being by myself but this is already getting super lengthy ...) you can be your own friend too ! (okay see now this seems insane but if it makes you happy WHO CARES AMIRITE) i personally enjoy my own company like omg .. she can get a good laugh out of me sometimes ... you can do whatever you want when you're alone ! you can dance to your favourite playlist or experiment with a bunch of stuff ! if you get bored you can watch your favourite movie or consume your favourite piece of media that no one gets like you 🤫 so , as much as making friends sounds great , let's appreciate solitude too !!

ah, life can be beautiful sometimes? ☆

one of the biggest reasons i go on walks almost regularly is to remind myself how beautiful the world can be sometimes .. (atp half of this is me convincing you all to go on walks) i live in a beautiful neighbourhood n there are a lot of different flowers and fruits that grow here and that makes me really happy . going on early morning walks especially is soo fun , the world is so quiet then and you can even watch the sunrise 🥹

another thing is buying myself things i like ... especially clothes ... if you think you would look good in something then js go ahead and buy it ! don't mind what other people think because like ... YOU are wearing it and if people around you have a problem with that then i think they should close their damn eyes and not look at you if it bothers them that much 🤦 you deserve to feel confident and comfortable in your own skin , you deserve to dress the way you want to ! so if you feel like dressing a particular way would make you feel better .. GO FOR IT !!! this applies to other things you like, maybe accessories, merch or stationary that look cute .. it's okay even if people judge you for your style because in the end they're the ones who are boring and miserable because they spend soo much time hating on others 😒

life is soo much more fun when you take care of yourself trust me ... you deserve to be taken care of !! so spoil yourself once in a while i promise it's okay as long as it makes you happy <3

to sum it all up .. yes , good times don't last forever but so don't bad times , and you and i both can get through a bad day because life is still going on (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ bad times too , will pass . so please believe in yourself and hold on !! i love you

again, this is all how*I* like to cheer myself up so pls don't take anything here in a bad way 😖 all of this was made with good intentions and im so sorry if i still ended up hurting anyone in any way ..

[xenocorner]

Here's some little christmas gifts for some amazing mutuals that have made this year a whole lot more bearable with their amazing content and their amazing interactions and just being amazing in general :']

Long post ahead so divider here to spare your scrolling. (I am also probably gonna get a bit sappy so if that makes you cringe: you've been warned lol)

@lilbitofmac Thank you for being my introduction to the fandom here on tumblr :'''D I really think I wouldn't have stuck around if it weren't for your initial warmth and encouragement. Your Tony remains my fave Tony I go feral over your art orz I may or may not have the clingy ironstrange drawing as a phone wallpaper-

Hope next year is kinder on you man! I know we don't really talk outside of tags/replies, but if you ever need smthn I can help with my inbox is always there.

@strxngetimes I'm just tagging this one blog because I don't want to spam all your other blogs lmao. Thank you for sharing your interpretations of the characters with us, not only the rps with other muses but also the headcanons and brainrot. It's always such a pleasure both to see you on the timeline writing with other muses and on the inbox with the disaster man.

I specially like how you include his Cloak in the mix and give it a personality- I absolutely adore the Cloak :'') So here's it being all clingy to the disaster man. Hope to see more of you having fun with all ur muses in the coming year :D

@starkkawajiri Pretty art!! Hilarious and heart wrenching character interactions!!! I love your designs and lore building so much. Fanboying over the same disaster man and making him suffer always brings a smile to my face. I've wanted to draw your Strange for a while now, so this was also the perfect excuse, I love him so much you have no idea-

Can't wait to see more of your amazing designs and lore stuff for this AU! (and anything else you create next year :])

@nekojetto I think your Strange is the purest Strange there is and the fact that it's based off Supreme makes that so much more impressive. Your animatics are simply breath taking, and whenever I go back to check your concepts and sketches for character interactions I always get a smile on my face :D

I'm sorry I haven't gotten to the collab just yet :'') Plz know I still have it in mind, haven't forgotten about it and am still just as excited to finally get to it as I was the first day!

@infiniteeight8 Your words make me cry and laugh so much all the time :'') You write the disaster men so beautifully both in serious, fluffy, angsty and funny situations. Reading ur stuff keeps the creative juices flowing!

I remember you liked the vampire Stephen prompt you were sent, so here's some of that, even if it's more halloween-y than christmas-y.

[altocat]

Plz make us cry Alto

Seph and Lucrecia reunion 🥹🥹

RAISED

PART 7

Vincent settles in with the group during the brief journey to the mountains. He is confused at Sephiroth's often childlike, messy mental state but Zack explains everything, right down to the entire plot of CC up until now. Vincent gradually ingratiates himself with the group, determined to help heal Sephiroth as atonement for his sins. And now that Cloud is out of commission and Genesis has been dormant for some time, the group is confident they can safely make it to the cave in one piece.

Sephiroth is nervous, naturally. Nibelheim really reopened a lot of old wounds. He's still trying to place together how much of himself is human, an alteration under Hojo, a false memory, or part of Jenova. The idea of him coming from Jenova sickens him to his core, makes him angrier than ever about all the things Shinra did to him. Rather than turning his anger towards humanity though, Aerith continues to emotionally strengthen and encourage him, telling him that regardless of whatever answer he finds, it's up to HIM to decide who he truly wants to be. She eventually reveals what she is (she finds out during one of the early Shinra encounters) and why she feels she's beginning to truly understand her place on this planet. To pave the way to a brighter future. She and Sephiroth are relics from an ancient world. They've come into existence in order to lead the way to a NEW world, a KINDER world.

Zack, meanwhile, is still trying to figure out what role he plays in all this. What happens after they heal Sephiroth? They still have no idea where to go. And that's not even telling what's going to happen with Genesis or Cloud. How do you begin again when your world is so messed up? His relationship with Aerith is getting closer. But Zack is tired. And he's been really pushed to the brink this entire journey. More than anything, he needs time to process all the trauma he's witnessed, and in even bigger need for a bit of hope.

They arrive at the cave, Vincent leading the way as they weave through walls of crystal. Sephiroth becomes increasingly more agitated and on edge, sensing something, something that tugs at his chest, something lost, brutal, shattering. His mangled mind twists for clarity, nearly falling into full insanity again before the group manages to tug him forward, dragging him step by step. They can't turn back. They're so close now. And while Aerith and Zack don't know what's going on, they can FEEL it. It's here. It's real.

And at last, through years of agony, abandonment, loss, and confusion, Sephiroth finally finds what he's looking for.

He finds HER.

After breaking through the emotional formalities of greeting the group (and Vincent) Lucrecia reaches out to her son. She apologizes for everything, for the experiment, for her foolishness, for her absence. She shows Sephiroth everything from the very beginning, unfiltered, unrecognizable from the hellish truth he'd uncovered in Nibelheim. And as she envelops her son in ways she never could have before in life, she finally lets him know what he needed to hear--that this was never his fault. And that she loves him. And that maybe, in some small way, she can finally atone, find peace at last.

With the last of her energies as well as utilizing the full power of the Jenova cells inside her, Lucrecia embraces her son, restoring his mind to full sanity before fading away to finally rejoin the Lifestream, her suffering finally at its end. Sephiroth has little time to really feel her, clarity finally snapping into place just as he feels her receding from him. He can only watch as she leaves him for the second and final time, surrounded by his allies, finally healed and fully aware of the person he truly is.

He cannot have her. And he never will. But he knows now that he is not a weapon. He is not a mindless tool. He is not an alien or a monster or a victim to be brutalized by Shinra. He is wanted, cherished. He was sheltered, raised back to completion by people who truly care about him. And he will continue to protect them, help them find a new home and regain a new sense of purpose. After all, they brought him here. They never gave up on him. They are a testament to humanity's worth, to the life Sephiroth always wanted. He loves them. Just as he would have loved her. And he will fight for them, die for them if the situation calls for it.

He is human. He survives. And he survives with his friends, his family.

And for now, that's enough.

END OF PART 1

[wizerdbattle]

Some notes for the magical girl AU fic:

This is heavily based on @snail-studios’s initial AU and art! I couldn’t help a lot of headcanons sneaking in, so this fic probably isn’t entirely canon to the original AU – and the liberties I’ve taken probably aren’t reflective of Snail’s intentions in the original AU, so come to me with complaints, not her. Thank you again to Snail for letting me write it!

I tried to structure this like the pilot episode for a show. Unfortunately, I haven’t watched as much magical girl stuff as I would have liked to, but I did use what I remember from watching Sailor Moon with my sister for this.

Link and Mipha are childhood friends and were previously neighbours. Sidon and Aryll get along well but aren’t as close.

I’m lazy so the school system I used is the Australian one. Rough translation is – Sidon is in primary school which consists of prep or kinder (a year below Year 1) to Year 6, and Mipha has just started high school which is Year 7 to Year 12. Sidon is in Year 3 and 7-8 years old, and Mipha is in Year 7 and is 12-13 years old. Hope that makes sense.

Mipha likely goes to a private school or a public school a decent distance from her home, hence the commute. She went to the same primary school as Sidon.

Link and Aryll’s Halloween haul is heavily inspired by @clockwise-works’s fic “Happy Poesfest Eve!!!” Modern AU (featuring Halloween) with very fun times, check it out!

I assume sherbert straws are a semi-universal thing but if you have no idea what I’m talking about, they’re these things. Plastic straw you eat the sherbert out of, pretty self-explanatory.

Also, since it’s summer in the fic, it’s either operating on southern hemisphere time – meaning Link has kept his Halloween haul for a month or two – or it’s in northern hemisphere time, meaning he’s kept it for almost a year. Whichever’s funnier.

Zelda’s mother is (evidently) still alive and her main caretaker, which greatly contributes to her cheery disposition. Most of her hobbies and interests are accommodated well by her mother, so she’s probably one of the most genuine versions of herself.

Urbosa and Daruk as well as Dorephan (and possibly one of Zelda’s parents) are teachers at the school.

Tulin and Aryll are Sidon’s age. Yunobo and Riju are a little younger than Mipha and Link.

There are SO MANY Australian-isms in this fic but I didn’t actually intend to set it in Australia… probably just in modern Hyrule.

The cold noodles that Mipha and Sidon make are Singapore style, according to my very brief research (I’ve made them before with family but didn’t know what they were called). I highly recommend them if you can find a recipe! I’ve never added lettuce but I think (hope) it would work. Peanut butter or some sort of peanut sauce, hoisin, soy and sesame oil are usually the sauces to season it with if I remember correctly. Very refreshing!

Sidon is at a rebellious age. Him and Mipha are very close but they bicker a lot now.

Every time I picture Ruta I think of the baby elephant made of pure light from The Good Place. Probably not her canon appearance but it makes me laugh.

Probably obvious but Ruta is an anthropomorphisation (<- no idea how I’m supposed to spell that) of Divine Beast Vah Ruta. Unfortunately she and Mipha don’t get along so well here.

Mipha is a lot more bad-tempered here than in canon generally, because she’s a good bit younger. I headcanon that she was a lot more rebellious in her youth in BOTW anyway.

I also think that like Zelda, without a destiny to fulfil, she’s allowed to be a lot more carefree and mess around. Also be mean! Let her be a little mean.

I had to study the art (this one) repeatedly to get the dress right 😅 it’s a very nice dress!

Laruta, Mipha’s alias, is actually pinched straight from the “Fisheye Lens” Model AU. I’m very unoriginal.

Wow I’m just dropping rec after rec here aren’t I…

I don’t bring it up but since Zelda’s house is wrecked she and her family are staying temporarily with Impa’s family :)

I haven’t watched Miraculous Ladybug in forever but the overly complicated love square or whatever it is is exactly the romantic dynamic I strived for here, especially factoring in the magical girl aliases (and all the magical girl aliases to come). Also there’s zero romance at all here as well, hope that helps!

I had so much fun writing this :))))) I would definitely want to write more!

I have LOADS of headcanons for this AU now as well as just general modern AU headcanons so… ask me about them? ;) Also I’ll probably post about them regardless because I love them.