#it's been a WHILE since I've done something with fierce

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Final Hour (Linked Universe fanfic)

(@artisticgamer, @ludoluck sorry I keep forgetting to tag you guys for my writing)

Inspired by @kikker-oma's amazing Fierce Deity art. Love your talent and your creativity, Oma! <3

Summary: When everything goes horribly wrong, Time desperately attempts everything in his power to fix it. Wind instead chooses to be the self sacrificing Hero, but the end result isn't what Time expected it to be.

(AO3 link)

The clocktower tolled.

He saw her. He saw Zelda standing in front of him, sad and beautiful and aged beyond her years, just like him. He saw her morose smile, the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, her steady resolve despite it all. He saw her play the ocarina as she grew ever smaller and farther away while his hand reached out desperately for her.

The clocktower tolled.

He saw her. He saw Malon smiling sweetly at him, bright and beautiful and innocent, like how he used to be. He saw the freckles on her cheeks pull as she giggled and called him by that nickname she’d made up a lifetime ago. He saw her eyes grow fierce with a desire for adventure as she worked with an unruly mare. He saw her twirl as they danced together.

The clocktower tolled.

He saw them. He saw Anju and Kafei’s love and desperation and acceptance in their eyes as they held each other, as she said they’d greet the morning together while his hand held hers in a white knuckled grip. He saw them tremble as he turned and ran outside.

The clocktower tolled.

He saw them. He saw the Heroes of Hyrule, how they were all young, experienced, hurt, filled with power and hope and light. He saw how they emanated a strength that couldn’t be quantified, an inherent resolve and determination to their core that shone through and resonated between each and every one of them, a shared bond and unbreakable spirit. He saw their uniqueness, their wonder, their gifts and quirks.

And he saw them fall, one by one.

The clocktower tolled.

They’d been wounded. They’d been weak. They’d just fought multiple hordes and had been desperately trying to get to the nearest village. They’d known it hadn’t been far, from the forest they could hear the bells of a clocktower in a nearby town.

There had been a split in the path. Time had chosen the route.

The clocktower tolled.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It couldn’t happen.

The black blooded dragon roared again, held at bay by the few still standing. He heard a scream, and a body collapse on the ground. He couldn’t even tell who was still standing anymore; he’d been one of the last to fall. Nearly everyone had stilled, no longer writhing in agony or sheer force of will.

Except for Wind.

The sailor groaned as he desperately crawled forward, reaching above Time, whose hand was overhead as he’d been grabbing desperately at one of his items when he fell, as he’d been willing to throw his life, sanity, everything away in a frantic attempt to fix this.

The wooden mask barely was within his grasp, propped by a finger.

Despite the severity of the situation, despite the cold silence of his companions, despite the clocktower ringing in his ears, a reminder of time after time of facing death and life and everything in between as his entire journey flashed before his eyes, he wanted to save Wind from this. The mask was too dangerous for anyone else. What good would such a victory do if the child was lost to the darkness?

“Please, Wind… no.”

He had other methods he could call on.

He had other items he could use.

The Hero of Time was nothing if not relentless. He never gave up. Never. Not even now, not even when he was bleeding to death, when the world around him blurred and dulled, when his mind was screaming and running into the past rather than focusing on the present. Not even now. He’d spent a lifetime perfecting three days over and over and over until he could get everything right and save everyone. He refused to let this be any different.

“You said…” Wind pleaded desperately, his voice trembling, tears and blood and phlegm rolling down his face from what little of it Time could see. With a hiccup, he continued, “You said it’s for emergencies, right? It’s okay, I’ll save you!”

I’ll save you. A last, desperate, pleading promise. The others couldn’t be saved, but Time was still here.

Time’s hands fumbled around his belt, desperately searching for the item he needed.

The clocktower tolled. The dragon roared again, any obstacle between it and the last pair of heroes long gone.

The mask slipped from Time’s finger, a rough disappearance as if it had been pulled.

“Sailor,” he tried again, his voice barely above a whisper, his world spinning and fading fast. He had to move.

Wind screamed.

The noise jolted Time out of his stupor, adrenaline feebly trying to awaken what little life essence he had left in him. He had enough energy to look up and see a figure towering over him where Wind originally had been crawling.

The monster bore Wind’s curls, bleached white. It bore Time’s armor, with a decorative fairy pendant dangling in the breeze as it stood stock still. Wind’s face was older, chiseled, once-chubby cheeks pulled taught over cheekbones that shouldn’t be so developed. Its eyes glowed, contrasting the purple and blue markings that cut across its face.

The Fierce Deity.

Time let out a desperate breath, unable to speak anymore, and watched helplessly as the cursed mask made Wind’s possessed body march across the field towards the dragon that awaited him. He couldn’t see the fight, but he could hear it. He heard the grunts, deeper than they should be, the fierce battle cries, the screeches from the dragon as its opponent landed cut after cut. He breathed hastily, feeling his heart quicken, feeling his body begin to grow numb, and he again searched desperately on his belt for the one thing that could change everything.

Warriors was gone. Sky was gone. Four was gone. Legend was gone. Hyrule was gone. Wild was gone.

Twilight was gone.

Time was going to be damned if he would let Wind fall in the worst way possible.

The clocktower tolled.

The dragon screamed, and the earth shook.

And then everything grew silent.

Time gasped for air, trying to raise his head, wanting to call for the young sailor, for the brightest ray of sunshine in the group, for the one last surviving member.

He couldn’t move.

So this is how I meet death? He wondered. On the verge of tears, an utter failure to all who depended on me?

He remembered the people of Termina. He remembered how they all faced death in their own ways. He thought of Cremia and Romani, of Anju and Kafei.

Goddesses. He missed Malon so desperately right now.

Heavy footsteps approached him, and he blinked, the world coming back into focus long enough for his body to scream that he couldn’t take any more of this. A blurry image hovered over him, and he squinted, confused, until his mind registered who he was staring at, and his hands finally found the item they’d been searching for.

The Fierce Deity knelt down slowly, eyes fixed on him. When his knees sank into the ground, he reached slowly, sliding a hand behind Time and pulling him into a seated position. Time cried out in pain with the motion, and the cursed deity paused only a moment before reaching his other hand towards the Hero of Time’s fumbling hands, pulling the ocarina from their grasp. Time tried to protest, tried to fight against his possessed successor’s hold, but he was too weak to do anything. Then amethyst rose into his periphery, and he looked down to see the Ocarina of Time hovering in front of his lips.

“Play, Link,” the Fierce Deity said, Wind’s higher voice pitched into a deeper timber and holding power and energy the boy didn’t usually possess. “Save them, as you always do.”

Time stared at the deity, his fears and thoughts stolen away. The pair was frozen for a moment, the world pausing around them, time itself holding its breath in anticipation. A gentleness fell over the cursed deity’s face, and Time felt the thumb behind his back caress him once, ever so softly. Understanding slid between the two, a heavy, bone deep realization that dug into Time’s mind more than he could fathom in the moment, a certainty and safety and assurance and comfort that he'd somehow always felt but always ignored. He let out a shaky exhale and, with trembling hands, took the ocarina from the Fierce Deity.

And he played.

The world turned white.

Time felt warmth engulf him, like an embrace from tender arms. Magic sparkled inside his mind and heart, a familiar friend, singing and resonating with his song like fairies humming together, a melody entwined in mystery and grace. His horizon shifted, and he was on his feet, set there gently as if floating through the air. The warmth spread from his core to his extremities, the numbness in his fingers dissipating, the stabbing pain of his own armor piercing his gut dulling into nothingness. The blood on him washed away with invisible waters, and an airless breeze blew the dirt off his body. He continued to play, the melody growing steadier as his strength returned, his determination steeling him, tightening his weakened muscles and bringing an assurance that he hadn’t felt since Termina.

Save them, as you always do.

Oh, the countless times he’d played this hymn, this spell, this prayer. Oh, the countless times he’d clung to it desperately as he tried again, the numerous times he’d played it in tears at his failure, the many times he’d nearly belted it in fortitude as he prepared with renewed hope and a plan in place.

Save them, Link.

“Really, old man? You’re playing your ocarina right now? We have wounded, we need to get moving.”

Time’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Legend’s voice.

They were all there, tired and hurt but alive. Sky was leaning against Hyrule, eyes half closed but body stiff with stubbornness, while Hyrule held him with a fierce protectiveness. Legend was watching him impatiently, scraped and bruised but relatively unharmed and clearly anxious to get help for the others. Four and Warriors were bringing up the rear, watching everyone’s backs and growing ever more confused by the turn of events. Wind hovered with some distress between Sky and Wild, who was the other most injured member of the group, though the champion was well looked after in Twilight’s hold as the rancher carried him on his back.

Twilight.

Time stared at him too long, meriting a worried expression from the rancher. “You alright?”

Blinking the oncoming tears away, the eldest Link took a deep breath and nodded. “Let’s keep going.”

“That’s what I said,” Legend grumbled, turning back towards the road ahead.

“Yeah, but which way?” Twilight asked, staring at the fork in the road.

The clocktower tolled.

Time pointed left.

“But I can hear the bells to the east of here,” Hyrule noted as he steadied Sky a little. “Shouldn’t we take the path on the right?”

“We’re taking this one,” Time said firmly, brooking no argument. The group followed him silently as he tried to reorient and move ahead like nothing had happened.

His hand slipped into his adventure pouch subconsciously as they walked, and the group started to talk amongst themselves, their voices the most beautiful things he’d ever heard. His heart rate began to normalize, and he closed his eyes, basking in the safety of seeing and hearing everyone alive again.

His fingers brushed against wood in his pouch, and they tingled with warm energy that climbed all the way up his arm, through his shoulder, and into his core. He took another steadying breath, clutching the mask tenderly as an entirely different set of emotions nearly knocked him to the ground, confusion and relief and hope and fear and curiosity above all else.

Another time. Today he tread ahead cautiously and protected his family.

Today he saved them, as he always would.

[aakaneeee]

ROUND 7 THEORY.

Till is going to lose: and Hyuna won't be there to save him.

this is insanely long, hug yourselves

I. Hyuna won't be part of the rescue mission.

I'm going to start with the obvious: today's alien stage friday content that opened my third eye.

obviously, hyuna is.. suffering is an understatement right now, she appears in a lot of pain, having to lean on mizi to walk. not only this, but mizi is distressed too. she is looking back, and the warning:intruder sign is reflecting in her eyes. interesting detail I've seen: the screen behind hyuna I'd light, and I personally think it's Luka's promotional photoshoot we've seen in All-In. maybe a slight reach, and not a good point to base a whole theory I genuinely believe in on, but trust me, it all ties togheter: Hyuna is looking directly forward, towards a 'light', while Mizi is looking back, at a warning sign. So, Hyuna will go to their base, and Mizi will do the rescuing mission alone. This might sound stupid, but the AMOUNT of content I found that holds this theory is insane.

Speaking about All-In..

This is a promotional video for All-In. (Might be the teaser but I'm tweaking) Mizi is only shown in the car scene, where she's togheter with Hyuna. In the other parts, Hyuna is completely alone. This might not mean a lot, except that we have this official art:

Unlike the frame in the video, Hyuna is alone here, leaving dust on the on the other cars. Does this mean that she'll go alone? Perhaps leave alone? And there's even more I consider as 'evidence'.

In the cover of hyuna ver. of ROMH, she seems to be laying down, something that I don't think she would be able to do while still being in the ALNST building, and the splash on her face seems to be similar to the character's that have died.

As happy as this looks, again, Mizi isn't here. The rest of the rebellion is, and she's wearing the outfit she had on in All-In when making that video with the others. She's making a gun sign, something usual for her, she's done it multiple times all over. Is this foreshadowing of her being shot?

But this.. even though the backround is Hyuna, it's obvious that the hands are not hers because of the light skin. So is this Mizi that's trying to learn from Hyuna? Maybe because she has to do a mission without her? Back to the All-In teaser, we don't see who's holding the gun that flashes between the frames of Hyuna's hand making a gun sign. I personally think it's Mizi instead, since now she's learned how to fire. Afterall, in All-In, even Hyuna is surprised at her sudden fierceness.

Here, it seems like Hyuna is being announced something, while sitting down. But what could be so important that she is told with such secrecy? The only thing I can imagine is a rescue mission, but she isn't there herself.

In this art, Mizi is looking down, while Hyuna is looking up, with a stern face, almost monitoring. But where could Mizi be, so high up she has to look down, and so bright she has to shadow her eyes? This takes me to the next part of my theory:

II. Till is going to lose.

The light from above the stage in the Round 7 teaser is dark blue, but a specific shade that has been often associated with Mizi. Is she there, so that's why she's looking down? Also from the teaser, we have this (which I think was pointed out before):

The little gun aim light is pointed towards the stage from an alien that seems to have a guard helmet, and then a light covers Till. I think it's enough proof that something will happen to him, but I have more. So much more.. And yet, I think the other ones fit more into another category. III. Even though he'll lose, Till won't die. But he won't live well, either. I am not delusional, I genuinely think Mizi's rescue mission will go well.

Here, Till is holding a strand of Mizi's long hair, the hair we know is long gone. In relationship with the first category, Hyuna is the only one missing from this art.

I initially thought it was Till protecting Mizi from something, but no. I think it's Till protecting the image of Mizi he remembers from something he finds terrifying: and I think that scary thing is the real Mizi, the Mizi that exists now. It's a common theme that Till is only inlove with the image of Mizi, so what if that dissapears? I imagine he'd be terrified of that.

Here, the wire of Till's collar (that we've seen him wearing in round 7, too) seems to be blending with Mizi's hair, as if he is bound to the image of past her. (Since we know her hair is short now.)

In this, the tape is similar to the one that covered his mouth in Top 3, but here, his mouth is wide opened, the tape instead covering his name, as if his freedom, his own voice was given back to him, rather covering his branding whom is proof of ownership.

Here, the characters that are behind have died, and the ones that are holding flowers are the ones who love Mizi. But again, it's the long haired old Mizi.

III. Hallucinations

Alien Stage is about romance, and hallucinating your loved one isn't new in it. Mizi hallucinated Sua in Round 5, and Till hallucinated Mizi (again, her old version) after... we all know what I mean. Hallucinating has led to losing, but is this going to be the case in Round 7?

Well, yes and no. Yes for Till, no for Luka, and I think this aspect is the one that makes the most difference between them.

Let's talk about Till first. I feel like Luka won't genuinely see Till as a threat, especially after Round 6. I do not think that he will do the ROMH technique. And yet, I think Till will hallucinate Ivan in him anyways. Looking at Luka's stage smile and Ivan's default expression, they look very similar (atleast to me), and the white outfits might do it, too.

This particular image makes me feel like that. His fingers aren't purple, which, I don't know what to make out of it, but it's about the neck holding. Ivan always seemed to have something with Till's neck, and there's a lot of art to prove it. This is undoubtedly something that Ivan would do, and I can imagine Till hallucinating Ivan, or atleast, a warped version of him, in situations like this. Till is already in a bad place mentally, so I feel like such a thing would destroy him, even though he won't go down without a fight.

Onto Luka. I think hallucinating Hyuna in Till is inevitable: their energy is just incredibly similar. But unlike Till, Hyuna is Luka's motivation to sing.

In this comic, we find out that Luka doesn't truly like singing: his only reason for singing is (or atleast, was) the fact that Hyuna likes it. And again, unlike Till, Luka is obsessed with the stage. It's canon that he has low self-esteem, and that winning is his way of raising it up. I don't see him having a mentality like Till, but rather, one that sounds more like "Only I get to kill you.", so a competition against Hyuna would only make him more motivated. And so, I think that hallucinating Hyuna gets him even closer to a win.

IV. Till will escape: but at what cost?

Till knows that the last time he turned down escaping, it didn't go well. So, even now, with the new image of Mizi, even now, with Ivan dead, even now, when he's still holding onto an image long gone of someone he loves, he will accept, but without getting implicated into whatever the resistance does too much. Why? Because he thinks he has nothing left except his hallucinations.

V. Conclusion

I'm sorry for how long this is!! I've been thinking for sooo long... I really like how I've made this though, in the end. extra: In this official art, the characters that are slightly smiling are now dead (sua, ivan).. it doesn't really mean anything to what I said (I think), but I found it interesting :)

[genderfluid-insomniac]

GENSHIN S/Os WHEN THEIR LOVER TURNS INTO AN ANIMAL

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Al Haitham, Amber, Ayaka, Ayato, Beidou, Candace, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Dehya, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Lisa, Lumine, Layla, Nahida, Ningguang, Raiden Shogun, Scaramouche, Shenhe, Tartaglia, Thoma, Tighnari, Venti, Xiao, Yae Miko, Yelan, Zhongli

A/N: I've been working on this for a while and it got backed up thanks to finals but I hope you all like it!!

Aether (golden retriever)

It’s quite a fun morning when you wake up to a flurry of cries and laughter along with a big furry retriever pouncing on you as you just woke up.

You happily cried out for help and Paimon came to your rescue asking where Aether is, still cuddling and petting the cream colored fur as the dog's head rested on your lap.

On the dog's ear was aethers earring and you took a guess, asking the dog if he was your lover to which you got a pretty excited bark and more “kisses”.

The day is pretty much one of the best days ever as Aether gets to fawn over with cuddles and free food while you get to skip your responsibilities, running through the lands and laughing at the playful games you all played.

It’s decided that it was the result of a side effect of a domain your boyfriend recently cleared and it wore off after 24 hours but to say you were glad that it was over would be a lie.

Albedo (snow leopard)

He is a menace especially since snow leopards thrive in colder climates and naturally blend in with snow means a full day of hide and seek on Dragonspine, chasing him around and watching him observe the dancing hillichurls.

‘Bedo is of course going to let Klee pet him and cuddle near a fire if it’s cold (you get priority too), pawing at the knee for attention or to continue combing through his soft thick fur and wiggling around to show his stomach for pets.

You’re going to have to keep an eye on him as the now cat alchemist is going to try to perform experiments on himself to figure how he got in this position and with his large paws he’ll give you his best cute eyes for your help, please say no his fur almost got dyed neon pink.

Kaeya is no doubt going to catch wind of the situation and tease him about gaining a new fur coat to replace his usual white one, casually speaking about how you’re suddenly available since your boyfriend is an oversized house cat.

The cavalry captain gets a snarl and small but fierce roar as he sees Albedo get in front of you and slowly move towards him, both of you don’t see kaeya for the rest of the day and your furry alchemist lover demands rubs.

By the end of the day there will be two sheets of papers with a charcoal paw print on it and a messily done heart, paper slightly shredded but you and Klee love his gift anyway.

Alhaitham (Madagascar day gecko)

Like Albedo is a menace and uses his new form to hide from you and play games but most importantly get info that he normally wouldn’t be able to get as he’s now an ordinary seeming gecko.

Most likely he’ll find you before you find him, climbing up your back with his padded toes and smirking (you think) at your confused scattered self.

Alhaitham can’t just go about his day as normal so he does have to rely on your help much to his disagreement, wandering through the stalls and purchasing fruits for you both.

All in all a very relaxing day for the scholar compared to what he’s used to and did have fun being able to be pretty much inconspicuous, playing “catch me if you can” with his significant other.

Amber (french lop bunny)

Probably has to do with Albedo or something she ran into while being an outrider but nonetheless loves it, finally she’s like her baron bunny and adorably fluffy.

Jean gives her the day off because there really isn’t anything Amber can do in her current state and she could get hurt, you end up having a fun day to yourselves and walking through Mondstadt in with bunny amber cuddled in your arms.

You can’t help but prepare a satisfying salad for her and you, sitting just outside the city and enjoying the wind brushing through Amber’s whiskers.

The way her cotton tail twitches when she’s excited or her high hops in tall grass chasing after you, every soft small part of her is too cute.

Ayaka (persian teacup kitty)

Thoma’s going to come up to you with a mixed expression of worry and awkwardness, his hands hiding a furry pale blue moving ball that unfurled to be a kitten and according to Thoma…your girlfriend.

You’re too busy cooing over her cute cat form to listen to what Thoma was saying besides her not being able to take care of her duties, entrusting you to take care of her and watch over Miss Kamisato.

Most of the day is in her room watching her struggle to walk and fall whenever she tries to stand on two legs, not only not being able to reach items because she’s a cat but she’s a teacup cat.

She does have to admit that you’re adorable from her point of view and you give the best scratches behind her ear while she’s laying on soft blankets and weaving between your legs.

Ayato (peacock)

This is one of the best and worst days for him because he gets a day off of work for a valid reason and he gets to show off how pretty is to you. Thoma and his sister cannot stop doubling over with laughter.

The lord is almost always puffed up and displaying his feathers for you to enjoy, following you around like it’s the only possible option and occasionally cawing to get your attention.

Several times Inazumans came up to you while you were running errands and warned you that there was a very large color bird “stalking” you, turning around to see your lover trying to impress you

It was very clear that this magnificent bird was Ayato Kamisato based on its attitude and coloring but how it happened….. who knows?

Beidou (Treeing walker Coonhound)

It’s quite a shock to see the captain of the Crux fleet basking and swimming in liyue harbor under the hot sun, perking up when her nose caught your scent and shook the water off her much to the crews displeasure.

There are a couple pros when you inevitably go to Ningguang to inform her of the situation and Beidou goes right to tackling the leader with tons of wet kisses and barks, looking back at you with what you swear is a smirk or cocky expression.

As a hound she gets so many snuggles from the children and elders but her enhanced hearing and smell allow her to find more illegal deals or goods being stolen and smuggled by treasurer hoarders (they can’t hardly believe that this dogs is somehow on Captain Beidou’s size till they see you and they bolt without the goods).

At the end of the day you and her are at the front of the ship, overlooking the lanterns decorating Liyue Harbor and having your girlfriend on your lap cuddled up close to you with her head nuzzled into your stomach.

Baizhu (ball python snake)

Since he’s already used to Changsheng being on him 24/7 Baizhu going to know what to do in order to keep himself alive until whatever this is wears off but until then you and Qiqi will have to help run Bubu Pharmacy, your lover coiled around your neck to help you like his own snake as Chengsheng is around Qiqi’s hat.

It isn’t a surprise that Baizhu is playful in his serpent form, racking his brain for when or how this could have happened when he’s normally so aware of his situations but chose to ignore the reason and press light kisses again.

You take breaks for both yourself and your new snake partner who Zhongli immediately recognises but chooses not to comment on while you order food from Wanmin restaurant, going just out of the city to find some some rodents for Baizhu to snack on and holding back a gag reflex when you saw the bulge in his coils.

Whenever it’s hot out his cold bloodedness comes in handy for both of you and trailing down your body to get herbs when you cannot find them, coming back to your arms before coiling around your wrist and dropping the herbs on the counter but not without giving you a nuzzle which gets a funny comment from the customer.

Candace (coyote)

It's unusual to wake up to a coyote instead of your girlfriend but weirder things have happened before strangely enough and both of you have work to do so you couldn’t just laze about and cuddle your new canine companions.

Although now being a coyote, she can cover the area surrounding Aaru village better and fast with four legs, using her intimidation as a fierce wild dog to scare away potential threats with her bared fangs and chasing them off.

You went to work and notified people that yes Candace is okay but she was called away by the Akademiya on a mission in the desert and to come to you with concerns until she was back.

Tiredly smiling when the sun hit the horizon and you saw her slip into the village, playing around with some children before heading to you and encouraging you to brush the grit out of her fur while sunbathing.

Neither of you knew what caused this but it ended the next morning and you both chalked it up to some strange harmless magic, laughing about the fun memories while you woke up and went about your day.

Cyno (death stalker scorpion)

He’s not going to even try come up with a logical reason for how this happened but does find it ironic and is happy that he’s now the most venomous scorpion in all of Teyvat but is now terrified that he’ll accidently sting you hence why when you wake up he’s on the opposite side of the room with a book on your desk open to his species.

Immediately going to find Alhaitham with your help and bug him, pure amusement filling his heart when his colleague glared at him and skittering closer with his tail threatening to sting him. An unspoken threat hangs in the air, the Mahamatra daring the Scribe to mock his jokes without consequence.

Cyno grows to enjoy his new form as he’s just as threatening as he was when he was human and even gets more confessions as he points his stinger at the criminals neck with another Matra coldly asking him to just confess already (you’d informed the Akademiya that Cyno had been turned into a scorpion which Nahida got a kick out of but did confirm the truth).

Late in the afternoon both of you were laying on a rock in Gandharva Ville with the sun warming up your boyfriend, Tighnari had just finished examining your lover and gaining some venom from the scorpion in order to work out an anti-venom just in case but left to two of you sleeping.

Dainsleif (fruit bat)

You rarely see Dainseif because of his constant traveling but he always seems to be there when you need him and stays for as long as he can before he slips away to take care of his personal issues.

Although through everything you’ve seen with Dainsleif this has to take cake, opening your window around midnight when you heard some taps and yelping when a bat flew into your bedroom.

Clinging to your shirt and looking up at you, key details being a half mask-like mark across his face and your boyfriend's signature star eyes stopping all words coming out of your mouth. Was this your lover? It couldn’t be- but who else looked like that. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

Welp now that all your plans were cancelled since your lover unexpectedly is here and now turned into a bat for some reason but nonetheless you sat with Dain hanging from your shoulder eating a juicy fruit you’d given him and looking at you with love filled eyes.

Dehya (Bengal Tiger)

Personally thinks this is an upgrade and takes advantage of it for as long as it lasts, giving you “puppy dog eyes” to explain to Rahman what’s happened but to let her continue her jobs with you as her translator (no way she’d allow any harm to come to you) and begrudgingly agreeing to let her go.

You make sure to pack up some water and snacks (having to go out and buy some food for your tiger girlfriend) so you are nourished during the journey, setting out with a happy oversized cat purring and rubbing against you with no care of the onlookers concerned or confused faces.

All of her work goes smoothly with you having to occasionally step in to explain what’s happened and her enemies not willing to fight an overgrown pyro infused tiger with only a simple weapon.

Evening is one of the best, both of you laying down in front of the fire and stroking the big cat that’s smothering you with wet kisses, chuffing while nudging her head against your hand as you take another piece of fruit for yourself and some grilled meat for her.

Diluc (red tailed hawk)

Usually you woke up to your fire haired lover’s tight grip on your waist before he’d kiss your head and sneak off to get ready for his busy day but today you awoke to a soft chirp and light nips to your cheek by a red tailed hawk. Strangely it wasn’t freaking out externally but tried to get more comfortable next to you as you just froze in shock and looked around the room for your lover or some explanation of what’s going on.

Your feathery friend flew over to a pile of Diluc’s uniform and dropped his glove and vision in your lap, picking up the edge of the glove with its beak and trying to slip the glove over its talon. Its scarlet eyes desperately looking at you with some sort of desire only known to it and causing your thoughts to wander to how similar the bird and him were.

Eventually accepting that your boyfriend was now a bird for an unspecified period of time and calling in Adelinde to explain the situation in order to cancel or reschedule any business meetings. You carded your fingers through Diluc’s red feathers who was now on your shoulder observing the view from outside the Winery and flew out to one of the rows of grapes, picking off one with his talons and eating it with a content coo.

Both of you did have to go into Mondstat to take care of Angel’s Share where Venti cackled upon seeing the famous intimidating bartender and Kaeya was a bit more snarky fully aware of the damage the hawk could inflict. But the aerial view of the city when he would fly around the cathedral was breathtaking to say the least and he wished more than anything to share this view with you, swooping down to you as you came to the base of Barbatos’s statue with to chicken skewers smiling up at him and offering him some dinner from Good Hunter.

Il Dottore (blue ringed octopus)

As far as you know this was probably his doing because frankly it seems like it was something he’d do just for kicks and it was another new accomplishment he could brag about but apparently something went awry when the fatui agent directly under his command came running to get you.

You were about to be handed an octopus but ripped your hands away when you realized the species of cephalopod to be the highly venomous blue ringed octopus which your lover often raved about and nearly yelled at the agent for attempting to kill you before the tiny sea creature pointed an arm towards a note on the doctor’s table.

After reading the note that basically said Dottore maybe fucked up by adding a chemical he wasn’t supposed to into his recent already unstable concoction and that you had to take care of him until the effects wore off in about 24 hours.

The rest of the day was pretty relaxing given you had to carry around a full container of water that your lover resided in. It was eventful with you occasionally slipping him bits of fish and having him climb up your arm to your shoulder to watch the world from your view compared to his small one.

Gorou (Shiba)

General Gorou personally doesn’t like this new development because some people (Yae Miko) already saw him as part dog despite various attempts of him doing everything he could to just get others to ignore his canine features.

So when he woke up one morning feeling a bit smaller than usual and went to rub his face but saw paws instead of his hand, freaking out and immediately turning over to wake you up but only getting out scared barks or whines.

After almost an hour of calming Gorou down with the help of Kokomi who agreed that until your boyfriend was back to normal he wouldn't be allowed to do any work as general.

Well Gorou wasn’t happy with the situation but he came around to liking it when he realized that he get’s to spend all of his time with you it clicked and eagerly asked for more cuddles now that you could both sleep in until lunch.

Heizou (ferret)

Chaos. I don’t feel like I need to say anything else if you know what ferrets are generally like and if you don’t then please look it up it’s hilarious (also fits Heizou’s personality to a T), but better pray for the Tenryou Commission when he wakes up and get ASAP before Sara breaks her “No killing Heizou under any circumstances” rule.

This boy is so slippery even when he’s human but loves to run around you while climbing you up and down as he gives playful kisses on your face, not to mention his coat is gorgeous with bits of tanish brown mixed with stripes of vibrant red and gold along his fur.

It’s going to take more than one person if they want to get him off of you, trying not to touch you in the wrong places as the guard attempts to get Heizou out from your clothes and even if they’re successful the detective is going to nip at them so he can further secure himself around your neck.

You do love it when he’s peaceful, eating bits of fruits or grilled meat from your hand and nuzzling her soft cute face into your cheek (Heizou is going to make it up to you for all the trouble he caused later with cuddles).

Itto (bull)

Please help this man or bull who woke up so frightened that he wasn’t an Oni anymore that he crashed through a wall of your house and it took the entire gang, including both shinobu and you with the threat of Kujou Sara to get him to stop rampaging.

Also in this I imagine that he’s not Ushi sized but full on bull sized but with his signature red horns and red marking colored in his black/grey fur.

It’s going to take more than a couple minutes to tell him what’s going on (Sara already has Heizou trying to figure out what happened) but afterwards finds it pretty cool and naturally offers local Inazuman kids a ride.

You ensure them it’s safe with you going on him as well and the entire day is filled with the laughs of kids thanking their favorite Oni for bull rides, whispering comments to you about your lover’s protectiveness whenever another person gets a bit too close for comfort (like anyone would want to face off against an angry bull).

Kaeya (peacock)

This man is already cocky but now as he’s a bird know for being gorgeous and pretty, will not stop preening himself or looking for some way to impress you.

Each of his feathers has his signature star eye instead of it’s normal colors on his plumage which doesn’t take long to put two and two together, calming yourself down and laughing at your lover’s attempt to console you by perching himself on your lap (encouraging you to use his soft feather to distract yourself).

Both of you silently agree that it’d cause way more of an issue if you went out with an unusually colored peacock of all things (something not native to Mondstadt) and stayed home, sneaking out to walk among the gardens at twilight and admire the luminescent moon lighting up the path.

Kazuha (yellow ragdoll cat)

Such a good kitty he is, doesn’t panic upon realizing his new form but does have some concerns and atm he can’t do anything so he might as well relax with you until you start your day which doesn’t take long.

He’s so adorably cute and you cannot help yourself when you sweep him up in your arms, your lover is happily purring and swiping his paw over the signature red streak to hopefully clue you in. Luckily you took it well with minor panic but ultimately hoped it’d wear off after a day or so and scratched his head as you strolled through Inazuma City.

Many people flock to you and ask to pet your “cat”, commenting on his red streak and cooing at him whenever he walks around on your shoulders purring.

The samurai naturally attracts cats, so expect to be followed by a herd of cats which isn’t bad because they’re all so fluffy and Kazuha would rather nap on you when you’re basking in the sun which leads to a cuddle pile.

Kokomi (full moon betta fish)

Honestly how either of you got into this scenario is a mystery but needless to say it involved a very worried and concerned general Gorou cradling a small glass bowl with a beautiful pink and purple white full moon betta fish.

Most of the day was spent carefully resting in Kokomi’s room in order to avoid any soldiers in case they came looking when Gorou informed the resistance that her excellency wasn’t feeling well which wasn’t technically a lie although your girlfriend tried to convey that she wanted to go outside and swim in some shallow pools.

The happiness you could feel coming off her in waves as she excitedly swam among the shores of Watatsumi Island and fluttered about in between your legs when you walked in the water beside her.

Soon or later you ran with her in her bowl trying to escape Gorou for yelling at you for “endangering” Kokomi and understanding you’re her significant other but that doesn’t mean you get to steal her away (your girlfriend begged to differ).

Layla (sloth)

It fits her very well mostly due to how cute she is and her clinginess whenever she’s asleep, waking up one morning to feel a tight grasp on your waist and being a bit frightened to see a small icy blue sloth peacefully sleeping on your stomach.

You looked around to see your girlfriend’s signature star head accessory sitting atop their head, having heard to the Akademiya’s recent mess you’d believe pretty much anything and your Layla being an adorable sloth was not your life until the foreseeable future.

After locking the door so she couldn’t do any of her work (not like she could anyway), you went out to the nearby markets to get some breakfast and kept her close to you, her arms now wrapped around your neck and happily stared at your focused expressions.

Upon her request (really just her pointing at the House of Daena repeatedly) you went into the library and checked out some books in a small corner to her joy, cooing at her cute form and running your hands through her fur which she seemed to like).

Lisa (fine haired Persian cat)

You were in the library petting a gorgeous Persian lavender cat when the Acting Grandmaster bust into the room frantically asking if you knew where Lisa was and yelling that someone went wrong when the librarian as helping Albedo out with a recent experiment only to see you with the cat happily purring on your lap. “Oh good you found her.”

Obviously after the explanation that your lover had been accidently turned into a cat you couldn’t help but coo at her more than you did before you knew and cozy up in a faraway section of the library with some pillows and take a nap among the many books lining the shelves.

Napping away when the sun warmed both of you up and groaning when she pawed your face with her little fuzzy mittens, yawning as you got up to get food for both of you at good hunter and brought her back to your little pillow nest.

Lumine (cream tabby cat)

Just like Aether you woke up to a sound you hadn’t heard in a while which was a very friendly pale yellow tabby cat sleeping on your chest whose eyes fluttered as you began to fully wake up and nudged your cheek affectionately.

It didn’t take a genius to realize somehow that the traveler had somehow turned into a cat and until further knowledge so you had no choice but to care for your girlfriend, who was happily getting a lot of attention from you.

Your companions found this very amusing and Paimon did occasionally laugh at the way the traveler plays with the leaf being tossed about in the wind but quickly shuts up when she tries to take a swipe at Paimon.

There isn’t an hour where you and her aren’t connected in some way and Lumine often naps on top of your shoulders as you go about your day doing your chores, chuckling to yourself at the content purring kitty sleeping on around your neck.

Nahida (butterfly)

A/N: this can be read as either platonic or familial love

It’s not going to be easy to find her but she’ll let you know very easily via a dream and she archon magic, flapping her gorgeous green and white wings all around you while dropping small flowers on you.

Nahida is definitely going to need some help when it comes to eating and you can definitely hear phantom giggles as you cut into a slide of zaytun peach, biting into one yourself and lifting it to your shoulder where the dendro archon is perched.

There is no doubt that she’s going to lead to to the Aranara Village, introducing you to all her friends who without a doubt both know it’s her and adore you (many flower crowns were made for you that day and you brought all of them home).

You can tell just by how Nahida acts (even if it’s just flying about) that she’s happy to have another form of freedom where she doesn’t have to be Sumeru’s archon and just have fun, gliding from flower to flower that just seem to reach towards her every time she passes them.

Pantalone (arabian horse)

All you woke up to really loud noises and a bunch of whining which scared you awake and nearly screamed when you saw a fully grown black stallion worriedly pacing around the room, quickly backing yourself against the headboard and rapidly looking around for your lover but calling out his name.

To your surprise the horse looks your way and something in his eyes softens before stopping to a halt, nudging something towards you that was knocked onto the floor and picking it up to see it was Pantalone’s slightly cracked glasses.

No explanation could be given but you did have a very amusing time trying to get him out of the house without damaging or breaking anything, but the harbinger got back at you by sweeping you up on his back and galloping across the snowy fields.

You could vaguely hear happy winnies whenever you yelped or shrieked from the fast pace he was setting and would use his head to nudge you back onto his back. Anyone could tell that this horse was very prideful about its handsome appearance and you couldn’t deny it.

Raiden Shogun (Jaguar)

Needless to say walking back into your shared room only to see a violet patterned jaguar was enough to get you to call out to nearby guards and your breath fell short when you got the big cats attention, freezing in place as you slowly backed up and dropped the desserts had bought for you both.

You didn’t even have to run because it easily smelled the sweets and laid down to munch of them, nudging one toward you and watching you keenly with her tail swishing idly behind her; of course that’s when the guards came in and pushed you behind them in order to stop you from being harmed.

After a long accident involving the cat hissing at the guards and keeping you behind her, lifting her chest to show an exact copy of the symbol the archon had and sparks of lightning emanating from her paws marking up the matted floors. The message was clear that this was somehow their archon and didn't touch what’s important to her, without hesitation Yae Miko was called.

Ei was so much more calm when they left, you could feel that she was overall done with everyone and just wanted to relax with you (which you both did), escaping away to the secret garden where you hid among some flowers and napped with your lover now a jaguar purring quite happily.

Kunikuzushi/Wanderer (black ragdoll cat)

Nahida called urgently called you to the Sanctuary of Surasthana because something worrisome had happened involving the wanderer and to not panic because it wasn’t too bad, the situation you got only increased your anxiety when you ran in through the doors only to hear the archon’s voice yelling to “Close the door before he gets out!” and briefly seeing a black puff ball scurrying towards you while hissing.

The obsidian ragdoll cat uses you as a shield as he angrily hisses and takes swipes at Kusanali who is clearly having a lot of fun although it seems very stressful, thanking you and scolding the cat who she calls “Wanderer” for trying to escape when someone was trying to help him (you do a double take at that).

She explains that she doesn’t have an explanation but roughly knows what happened and most likely angered some Aranara who specialized in illusion magic to which you try and pay attention to her however your eyes haven’t left your lover’s pale indigo ones.

You go to pick him up (he strangely gave you a onceover before jumping onto your chest without warning) and nearly fell while glaring at him annoyed with his actions, the anemo user only squirmed in your arms to get more comfortable and blinked up at you once settled with false innocent eyes that you were all too familiar with.

Thankfully it was raining so even if he did get out he wouldn’t get far, so begrudgingly agreed to stay at the Sanctuary until he changed back and (much to his embarrassment) started purring when you pet him right behind the ears, looking around to double check if the damned archon was around before allowing himself to relax and wind his tail around your hand lovingly.

Shenhe (red crowned crane)

For sure is going to wake up confused and curious, pecking you awake as softly as she can and nudging you with her head to try to get you up.

At first you thought that she was Cloud Retainer and freaked out, scrambling out of bed and brushing the invisible dirt off your clothes to greet her correctly.

Upon noticing that it was your girlfriend, you chose to ask Cloud Retainer herself who also didn’t know what was going on but assured you it was temporary.

Shenhe flew across the lakes, freezing the water in spiral patterns and landing gracefully on the ice to invite you over to skate.

Tartaglia (red fox)

Him and Heizou have something in common and it’s still being able to cause mass amounts of chaos despite being non human, the entire day will be spent chasing him around while you try to clean up the messes he “accidently” causes.

No doubt one of his antics is going to be finding Zhongli and being playful but just tolerable enough to not be thrown into Liyue harbor, squealing and gekkering when Hu Tao came up to ruffle his tangled fur.

By mid afternoon you’d given up searching for your boyfriend and gone to sit by the harbor, swinging your legs off the dock and feeling a certain soft fox cuddle his way under your arms as an apology.

Thoma (Shiba)

You’re called over by the Kamisato siblings who were trying their best to keep it together and hold in their laughter while they led you to a room containing a dog that looked suspiciously like Taroumaru, noticing that he wore your lover's black metal headband and similar happy go lucky smile.

The two explained that somehow Thoma had been transformed into a shiba when they came to check in on him when he hadn’t said good morning and the only idea they had was to get you so no one else found out, asking you to watch over him until either of them found out a way to turn him back.

Thoma who’d been contently laying in your lap and snuggling against the hand petting him perked up at that sentences, barely able to contain his barks of excitement and running circles around you.

It was rare that the housekeeper got a day off and this was a strange incident but he’d take it, leaving you to chase after him through the city and coming back with some food a chef had given him because of his cuteness.

Tighnari (fennec fox)

There’s really nothing different except for the lack of control, short height, people cooing over him- yeah he officially hates it and scampers off into the Avidya forest to continue his duties. Even if he’s now an actual fennec fox instead of just being a hybrid like he was previously, a small hiccup isn’t going to stop him no matter how much Collei pleaded.

He is shocked that you instantly know who he is based on his various shades of green and blue coat coloring (not missing the hint of pink on his ears and nose) and hazel curious eyes, looking around before jumping into your arms and silently pleading for you to hide him.

You do manage to convince him to take a walk through the forest towards a small river runs and sweet Zaytun Peaches, mint, and Harra fruit grow; biting into one of them and savoring its sweet flavor before offering the other to Tighnari who happily took it.

He gives you the best privilege you could ever have and it’s cuddling him as a fox, it isn’t surprising you fall asleep with your boyfriend in your arms who is slowly falling victim to fatigue as well (he didn’t notice Collei peaked through the door and took a picture for later).

Venti (Mocking Bird)

Like Tighnari, the archon is already like a bird so it doesn’t affect him so much until you and Diluc tell him that he can’t drink any alcohol cause it might kill him in this form and he’s not going to chance leaving you behind in this world (although the face the red head made after you were finally able to convince him the bird was Venti was pure gold).

Your boyfriend never leaves your side and is able to hear all the songs that he can make as a mocking bird, including anything he overhears from anyone else and being able to mimic it completely.

He spends most of his time nested in your hair and showing off his beautiful feather pattern to his beloved, green and blue swirls painted on his brown and white wings (a small Anemo symbol placed on his chest).

Windrise’s massive oak tree provides lots of shade and roots for sitting on as you sit against the bark as Venti flutters about in the air joyously, occasionally stopping and giving you a love peck while he picks up some diced apple with his beak to nice.

Xiao (Blue-backed Manakin)

Takes the whole “fierce harsh warrior” and turns it on its head as he tries to figure out if this new form is because of his karma or just the world laughing at him, overall is very grumpy and does his best to avoid you knowing you’ll coo over his new bird form.

Light but harsh repeated pecking against glass gets your attention and you see a small bluish black manakin bird perched on the window sill trying to get out but freezing when they lock eyes with you.

You recognise the purple triangle that your lover has tattooed on his forehead and remember something he had mentioned about his previous form being a bird, putting the two together and scooping him into your hands; five minutes later both you are on the same page and will later see Zhongli for help but for now you’re okay with some snuggles after some puppy eyes (which Xiao knows he can’t stand strong against).

When the time finally arrives to find the ex-geo archon, Xiao finds a comfy stop nestled on top of your head (bonus point that he can also keep in contact with you and lookout) and does unconsciously let out small chirps when you nuzzle his chest or mention how beautiful his feathers are (which you wish could keep one and luckily enough are gifted one by him as your arrive in Liyue).

Yae Miko (arctic fox)

The Guiji does change into her fox form on occasion and when you’re at your lowest in need of comfort but never out in public where others can see her but something must have gone wrong because now she can’t transform back into her human form which alarms both her and you.

Doesn’t let anyone see her and curls up in her room as she tries to figure out what happened however you manage to sneak into her room, using your puppy dog eyes to your advantage.

Yelan (Black widow spider)

Something was scattering across your face and opening your eyes to see a larger than normal black widow spider to which your reaction was to scream in fear, throwing the spider to the other side of your room and desperately checking your face for bites while grabbing a big book on the shelf next to you.

When you turned back the arachnid was busy using it’s webbing to write something on the floor, quirking your head so didn’t have to move but you could see and becoming genuinely shocked at the sight of your lovers name being written in blue glowing silk (it’s artist looking up at you with all 8 eyes).

It took a lot of patience but you came to accept the fact that your fiersome girlfriend was now one of the most venomous spiders in all of Teyvat until you could change Yelan back but you’d make the most of it and she’d weave complex designs out of her webbing for you.

Another perk was that the hydro user could now gather intel more easily because of her new form and much to your dismay she crept out of the house to continue on her recent mission but just before midnight you felt a soft cloth brush against your face (Yelan had made herself a little bed on the headboard).

Zhongli (standard bearded dragon)

Generally alright with his new form but isn’t happy that he can’t drink tea anymore whenever he tries which only ends in your holding all of his tea hostage for fear of what it’d do based to his reptile body and Zhongli with his now obsidian black beard rather than the normal beige.

He does enjoy basking in the Liyue sun that beats down on a roof he’s taken a liking to after giving you a slip and flattens himself out into (as you like to call it) “pancake mode” to best enjoy the sun’s heat.

Hu Tao upon hearing why he can’t come to work cannot stop laughing and taking photos via her Kamera but lets you both off until a solution appears.

The day consists of you with your lover on your shoulder and walking around the plains of Liyue, more than once does he speed off to investigate a commotion and finds out he is very fast on all fours.

[justabigassnerd]

Saviour

Pairing - Tim Bradford x teen!reader

Word count - 9,382

Warnings - violence, threats, swearing, angst, drugs, alcohol, fluff, inaccurate police descriptions, fluff

Summary - after a few months of being fostered by Tim, a family member pops up and both you and Tim have a bad feeling about him

A/N - hey y'all! it's time for another installment of this little universe I've created that started with 'Unexpected Bond' (yeah let's call it a little universe). this idea had been floating around in my head for a while so I truly hope I've done it justice. if y'all want to see more from this duo please send in requests for them (I'm running out of ideas already). anyways I won't ramble, as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

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After a few months of living with Tim, he had noticed some positive changes with you. You had broken out of your shell, you had been transferred to a new school and you were thriving in your new environment. It had taken you a little while to unlearn all the things the children’s home had embedded into you but Tim had been nothing but patient and comforting through the whole process. Tim’s work friends had all met you and all accepted you with open arms. Kojo had become your loving yet fierce protector, and he wouldn’t leave your side when you were home. Tim loved having you around, viewing you as a daughter more and more with each passing day and as time passed, he started debating the idea of going forward with adopting you. Since Kiara had confirmed that you had no family to reunite with, the aim had always been to find someone to adopt you, and since you had already become part of Tim’s family, he wanted to make you a Bradford officially.

“Hey, kid, come on! Let’s get you to school!” Tim calls through the house, his work bag slung over his shoulder while he waits patiently.

“Sorry! I’m coming!” You yell back, shoving the last book into your bag and grabbing it, rushing to the front door with Kojo bounding behind you.

“Cutting it fine. Come on, get in the truck.” Tim says with a light chuckle, placing a hand on your shoulder and nudging you towards the front door.

“Sorry, Tim. Bye, Kojo, be a good boy.” You apologise to Tim with an innocent smile before crouching down to pet Kojo quickly before heading out to the truck.

“You heard her, be good.” Tim then says, pointing at Kojo who sits, tilting his head as if offended by the idea of being anything but a good dog in your absence. After exiting the house, Tim crossed to the truck, got behind the wheel and headed off in the direction of your school, both of you chatting the whole way.

“Alright, be good,” Tim says, parking the car outside your school and turning to face you as you mirror his actions.

“I always am.” You say with a smile, making Tim let out a soft chuckle.

“I know.” He replies softly before opening his arms for a hug you’re quick to give him.

“Okay, you better get going. Have a good day, y/n/n.” Tim says as he releases you from the hug, noticing the other kids already heading in and you glance over your shoulder nodding as you open the door.

“Have a good day on patrol. Bye, Da… Tim.” You say, eyes widening quickly when you realise your slip-up, making you scramble to get out of the truck, bag in hand as you practically slam the door behind you and you feel the growing heat behind your cheeks. You then rush into the school building, hoping Tim didn’t catch what you said.

As you rushed into the building, Tim was sitting in the truck, lips slightly parted in shock and eyes wide. He had heard you begin to call him ‘dad’ before you corrected yourself. He began driving to Mid-Wilshire station with that moment playing on repeat in his head. He barely processed anything that was said at roll call and by the time they had gotten into their shop, Lucy had a suspicion that something was going on.

“Is everything, okay Tim?” Lucy asks as Tim begins to drive out of the station.

“Yeah, fine,” Tim mutters, barely glancing her way as he talks. Lucy was not convinced that Tim really was fine and while she didn’t push at first, as the day progressed and he wasn’t acting like the TO she was used to, she started to get concerned. And when they finally sat down to have their lunch, she decided to talk to him.

“Okay, you’re clearly not fine. Has something happened? Is y/n okay?” Lucy asks, getting nothing more than an uninterested hum in response as he stares into space. Realising Tim is not paying her any real attention, she decides to test something.

“Did you hear that Wesley cheated on Angela? The wedding’s off.” She says, picking up a fry and watching as Tim nods.

“Cool.” He mumbles, which makes Lucy reach her final straw, throwing a fry and hitting Tim in the face, making him flinch away from it and scowl at Lucy.

“What the hell, Boot?” He scolds, his glare cold as he stares at her.

“You’ve been distracted all day. What is wrong with you?” Lucy demands, another fry in hand as she readies herself to throw another one.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Tim insists, immediately having to duck his head to dodge another fry thrown in his direction.

“Try that again,” Lucy says, raising an eyebrow as Tim glares at her once more.

“You’re a pain in the ass. You know that, don’t you?” Tim says pointedly while Lucy nods with a smile.

“Start talking.” She then warns, making Tim hold his hands up in mock surrender.

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell you. I was dropping y/n off at school this morning and she almost called me ‘Dad’. That’s what’s been on my mind.” Tim says, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back in his chair, watching as Lucy processes what he said.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? I mean you are her foster father. It just means she actually sees her as her dad.” Lucy says, tilting her head slightly as she talks.

“After Isabel left I didn’t think I’d get a chance to be a dad and y/n’s great. She’s the daughter I didn’t know I needed. Biological or not, I see her as my kid. But I saw her face after she said it. She looked embarrassed. Maybe I’m not good enough.” Tim says, rambling with an unusual nervousness about him.

“Stop right there. You’re more than enough for y/n. She’s told me on multiple occasions that she considers you fostering her as the best day of her life. You got her out of the toughest time of her life and looked after her. I don’t think she was embarrassed. Maybe a little scared because she didn’t want to upset you or overstep any boundaries? Look, you should talk to her after your shift. It’ll do you both good to clear the air about everything. And don’t give me that ‘I don’t talk about my feelings’ crap. This is y/n we’re talking about.” Lucy says, pointing at Tim when he attempts to butt in, making him close his mouth and shrug.

“I guess you’re right,” Tim says softly.

“You guess I’m right?” Lucy asks with a light chuckle, shaking her head jokingly as Tim rolls his eyes.

“Okay, you’re right. I’ll talk to y/n when I’m home.” Tim finally agrees with a nod, ending their conversation on that topic then and there.

Meanwhile, at your school, you were having a similar conversation with your friends.

“Guys you don’t get it. I almost called him ‘Dad’ to his face!” You groan as your friend's exchange looks.

“I’m sure it’s not a big deal. You’ve been telling us that he’s your father figure anyway.” Your friend Juliet says, shrugging slightly with a supportive smile.

“Yes I see him as a father figure but it doesn’t mean he’s okay with the idea of me calling him ‘Dad’ at all. To him I’m probably just some foster kid he’ll end up wanting nothing more to do with before a year is up.” You mumble, poking at the food in front of you with your fork.

“Somehow I doubt that. If he didn’t care about you he wouldn’t have done that whole thing with shutting down an entire children's home because of your experience there.” Ruby then says, pointing at you with her fork as you roll your eyes.

“He didn’t just do it because of me. He knows there were other kids in that home that needed help.” You shrug, stabbing some food onto your fork and eating a mouthful.

“You’re ridiculous. Why don’t you just talk to him about it? It’ll be better if you just clear the air about it.” Juliet suggests, both she and Ruby watching as you silently debate the idea given to you.

“Maybe you’re right.” You say quietly, lifting your drink to your lips before you take a sip.

“Maybe?” Juliet scoffs, raising an eyebrow as you laugh.

“Okay, okay. You’re right. I’ll talk to him later.” You agree, watching with a laugh as your two friends share a high-five.

That afternoon, you made your way back home after getting the bus. You knew Tim finished work later so you had to make your own way home in the afternoons, you had never complained, the bus journey was always interesting but the walk from your nearest bus stop always helped to clear your head. When you made it home, you unlocked the front door and you were immediately greeted by Kojo who sniffed at you and panted happily while you petted him.

“Hey, Kojo. Yes, I know I’ll take you for a walk just let me put my bag down.” You say with a chuckle as Kojo begins to paw at your leg and whine, telling you he wants to go for a walk. You put your bag down and grab Kojo’s lead, hooking it on his collar before heading back out of the house. Walking Kojo in the afternoons had quickly become one of your favourite activities, it gave you something to do while waiting for Tim to come back and you loved getting to spend extra time with Kojo. The walk was fun, you took Kojo to his favourite park and let him run around as well as play fetch with him to let him get his energy out. 

By the time you got home, Kojo was more than happy to lay on the end of your bed while you did some of your homework in your room. As you work at your desk, you often find yourself sitting back in your chair and admiring your room, having decorated it since you moved in. You’d painted the walls, there were various posters on the walls of various singers you’d started listening to. Tim had been able to convince you to put an LA Rams pennant up in your room after you started watching the occasional game with him. As you finish your final piece of homework, you hear a knock at the door which has Kojo perking up in seconds.

“Come on then, let’s see who’s at the door.” You grumble, getting up from your seat and heading to the front door with Kojo following close behind. Once you reach the door, you look through the peephole, expecting it to either be a delivery person or some door-to-door salesperson. But when you see the person on the other side you open the door.

“Kiara? What are you doing here?” You greet your social worker happily, hugging her and she is quick to return it while Kojo sits and waits patiently.

“Hey, y/n. I did try calling Tim. Is he at work?” Kiara asks as you invite her inside, wondering why she’s dropped by.

“Yeah, he usually finishes a few hours after I finish school, depending on if he gets roped into a case or not.” You shrug as Kojo approaches Kiara, nosing her hand for attention and she’s happy to oblige.

“That’ll explain why I couldn’t get a hold of him then.” Kiara muses, petting Kojo.

“Is everything okay? You don’t normally come by unannounced.” You ask, quickly becoming worried about what is going on. Kiara always called ahead of time when she came to do a visit and would never come by if she couldn’t get through to Tim beforehand.

“There’s something I need to talk to both you and Tim about,” Kiara says, making your concern levels rise.

“If it's urgent I’m sure Tim would be okay with us swinging by the station. They have rooms we can use to talk privately in.” You offer, coming up with the only solution you could think of.

“It’ll have to do. Come on y/n.” Kiara says, straightening up from where she was petting Kojo and you nod slightly.

“Okay, bye Kojo, hold down the fort for us.” You say, grabbing your house keys and petting Kojo goodbye once more before following Kiara out to her Mini, getting in the passenger seat and nervously thinking of worst-case scenarios. When you arrive at Mid-Wilshire station, you follow Kiara into the station and approach the front desk.

“Is there a way we can speak to Officer Bradford?” Kiara asks the officer at the front desk who glances up at her, eyes briefly flicking to you before looking back at Kiara.

“What do you need to talk to him about?” The officer asks, looking bored as he talks.

“Kiara? y/n? What are you doing here?” Tim’s worried voice comes out of nowhere and you and Kiara whip around to see Tim. He crosses the room in a couple of long strides, instantly grabbing you by the shoulders, his eyes scanning you for any potential injuries.

“Are you okay?” Tim asks worriedly, watching you carefully.

“I’m fine. I promise.” You assure Tim quietly, smiling as he gently removes his hands from your shoulders and focuses on Kiara.

“I tried calling and y/n said you were still at work. I need to talk to you and y/n about something. Is there somewhere private we can talk?” Kiara says to Tim and you can see his expression become serious as he nods.

“Let’s find somewhere private,” Tim says, gesturing with his head for you to follow him which both you and Kiara do. He leads you both to one of the many interrogation rooms, flipping the signs to ‘occupied’ so people won’t come in before bringing you into the observation room, turning around to face Kiara, arms folding across his chest.

“What’s going on?” He says, staring at Kiara who wrings her hand, adjusting how she was standing to address both of you.

“So, we were under the impression that y/n had no family but recently an uncle has made himself known to us. He had been spending the last twenty years abroad and has recently moved back to the States and we managed to get into contact with him.” Kiara explains, watching as you and Tim begin to put the pieces together in your head.

“What does this mean? Is y/n going to be taken from my care?” Tim asks, trying not to let his worry become obvious as he talks.

“Since y/n’s uncle is open to the idea of possible reunification. We’re going to implement a reunification plan.” Kiara begins, watching your reactions carefully.

“Wait, don’t I get a say in this? What if I want to stay with Tim? I don’t know this guy.” You say, shocked tears filling your eyes at the sudden news.

“y/n, sweetie. It’ll just be for a couple of nights at a time. It’s a weekend at most. Just to scope things out.” Kiara says softly, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder gently, ceasing her actions when you move away from her, shaking your head.

“I can’t believe this.” You whisper, backing away from Kiara and rushing out of the room and heading out of the station. You found a bench just outside and sat down on it, pulling your knees up to your chest and crying softly. You hated that your opinion wasn’t being considered. You were happy with the life and routine you had living with Tim. Your life had already changed so much and now it was potentially going to be changing again.

“Hey, kid.” Tim’s soft voice says as you hear him easing himself down next to you on the bench. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, instead burying your face further into your knees.

“Why is she doing this?” Your voice was muffled but Tim could hear you, and his heart broke hearing you sound so defeated and upset.

“It sounds like it’s out of her control. Reunification is usually the end goal with foster care.” Tim says, trying to keep his voice soft for you. You then lift your head, turning to look at Tim with misty eyes.

“But why don’t I get a say? It’s my life.” You ask, a fresh tear slipping down your cheek as you lift your hand to harshly wipe it away.

“They just want you to try it. He is your uncle after all. Maybe after some time, you’ll get a choice. If you give it a try you’ll know how you feel for sure.” Tim says gently, resting a hand on your shoulder and tugging you carefully into his side which you accept, leaning against his side comfortably.

“Okay, I’ll try it.” You mumble as Tim squeezes you a little closer. Tim would never admit it out loud to you but he was scared for the reunification plan. He’d grown so accustomed to having you around and he was terrified that you’d like living with your uncle and move in on a permanent basis and he’d would be alone once more. But he wasn’t going to be the reason you didn’t reconnect with family.

“I was wondering where you two ran off to.” Kiara’s voice then speaks up, making you look in her direction, wiping at your eyes again to conceal your tears.

“Sorry, I just needed some air.” You mumble, moving away from Tim’s embrace slightly.

“It’s okay, y/n,” Kiara says, smiling softly at you.

“I’ll give it a try. I’ll spend weekends with my uncle.” You say, standing from the bench and addressing Kiara who nods.

“You’ll be with Tim during the week and you’ll spend Friday night through to Monday morning with your uncle. I’ve checked and approved his house as a suitable place for you to be living. We’ll trial it for a few weeks and then make a decision from there.” Kiara explains as you and Tim listen carefully, nodding along to each word she says. Despite your willingness to try this, you couldn’t shake the bad feeling you had about this whole situation.

When Friday afternoon came around your nerves were at an all-time high. The whole day at school you had been anxious and your friends had noticed but you didn’t tell them what it was that had you so nervous although you were sure they had chalked it down to you not having the conversation with Tim about you nearly calling him ‘Dad’ yet. You were sat on the sofa with Kojo curled up at your side as your knee bounced nervously. Tim was pacing, trying not to let his anxieties get the best of him. After about ten minutes of nervous waiting, there’s a knock on the door which has Tim striding over to the door and opening it to reveal your uncle on the other side.

“You must be Tim. I’m Steve.” Your uncle introduces himself to Tim, briefly shaking his hand before entering the house and quickly locating you. At the presence of your uncle, Kojo’s head shoots up and he stares at him for a moment before lowly growling.

“Kojo, shush.” You scold the dog quietly, stroking his head to calm him down and he soon settles back down, eyeing your uncle grumpily.

“So you must be y/n,” Steve says, smiling at you as you smile weakly in response, nodding to confirm.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You say quietly, standing from the sofa as Kojo grumbles.

“We should get a move on. We’ve got a fun weekend ahead of us.” Steve says, his smile offputting as you nod, picking your bag off the floor and crossing to Tim.

“You have everything you need?” Tim asks, looking down at you with a gentle gaze.

“Yeah.” You say with a nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you on Monday then,” Tim says softly, carefully bringing you into a hug which you’re quick to return.

“I’ll see you on Monday.” You mumble, hugging Tim a little tighter before letting go, smiling up at him, whispering goodbye to him and Kojo before turning to follow your uncle out of the house. The drive to Steve’s house was awkward, there was no conversation and every time you opened your mouth to attempt to start a conversation, Steve glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and you would quickly shut your mouth and focus back on the passing scenery. Soon enough, Steve parks his truck and turns to face you.

“Alright. Get out.” He says, an unexpected harshness to his voice, making you flinch slightly before nodding, scrambling to get out of the car. You grab your bag, hauling it out of the car and following behind Steve as he opens the front door, revealing the interior of his house. He had clearly only just moved in with how minimalist everything was and you had a feeling that it wouldn’t stay this tidy.

“Your room’s in the back to the right.” Steve then says gruffly, slamming the door behind him and heading straight to the fridge, grabbing a beer and popping the lid off before taking a swig and crossing to collapse on the sofa. You decide to follow his directions and hide away in your room, scared of how quickly your uncle’s personality had done a one-eighty in one car journey. When you got to your room, you pulled your phone out of your hoodie pocket, unlocked it and opened your contacts, thumb hovering over Tim’s contact. You knew if you called Tim and asked for help he’d be there in a heartbeat. But you didn’t want to jump the gun and make assumptions too quickly. Instead, you opened your texts and sent a message to Tim.

‘We’ve just arrived at Steve’s place.’

You barely glanced away from your phone for a second before your phone buzzed with a text message from Tim.

‘Good to hear. If you need anything you can call me or Kiara. Have a good weekend.’

You smiled a little upon reading Tim’s message, knowing he was only a phone call away was a huge weight off your shoulders. You weren’t sure you’d be willing to bother Tim but knowing he’d help you if you asked was comforting. You spend a moment scrolling through your camera roll, smiling at various pictures you had taken of Kojo, missing him already, and then your bedroom door flies open.

“Get your ass in the kitchen now.” Steve’s voice booms, making you jump, looking over at him with a terrified look as he points in the direction of the kitchen, making you jump up and scramble to head into the kitchen with Steve following close behind you.

“Is everything okay?” You ask nervously, shoving your phone in your pocket as you turn to face Steve who folds his arms across his chest.

“I’ll be okay if you can help me out,” Steve says, his stare cold.

“What do you need help with?” You ask, wondering why he’s acting like this.

“Rumour has it you went to that kid's home that got closed down recently. I know those kids from there know how to get some good stuff or at least know some contacts to get people in with the big drug dealers round here.” Steve says, watching as you shuffle awkwardly.

“I never got involved in anything like that.” You say nervously, suddenly fearing his reaction as his glare grows colder.

“So you’re telling me you don’t know a single person who could get me some damn drugs?” He asks harshly, stepping closer to you, towering over you as you take a small step back.

“Even if I did I wouldn’t know where to find them. Since the home closed all the kids got moved to other different homes. I’d have no idea where to start.” You partially lied. Of course, you knew which kids were involved with each big drug dealer in the area but you weren’t lying about not knowing where to find them. You had no idea what home each kid had been moved into. You hadn’t gotten along with any of them so you had no reason to maintain any sort of contact after Tim began fostering you.

“Well, you better start figuring it out. Give me your phone.” Steve demands, holding his hand out expectantly.

“What?” You question, hand moving to your pocket in a feeble attempt to shield your phone.

“Do you think I’m stupid? I know that guy you live with is a police officer and I don’t trust you not to go running to him the moment I leave you alone. If I have your phone I can guarantee you won’t tell him about what I want to do.” Steve asserts, nodding towards his hand before staring at you once more.

“I can’t figure out where people are without my phone.” You try weakly, scrambling at any excuse to keep your phone with you.

“That ship’s sailed. You’re useless to me right now. I’ll just have to look myself until next week when you get back to me with actual answers.” Steve says, taking another step closer as you feel your heartbeat pick up. Scared of what might happen if you continue to disobey Steve’s order, you pull your phone out of your pocket and hand it to him, flinching lightly when he snatches the phone away from you. As Steve turns around to grab himself another beer from the fridge, your eyes flick around the room, searching for a landline phone. Tim had ensured you had his number memorised so if you really needed to call him and didn’t have your phone you’d be able to call him from any phone. To your disappointment, you couldn’t locate a landline phone at all and you just knew that this weekend was not going to be what you thought. When Steve dismisses you harshly, you rush back to your room, sit on your bed and instantly dig through your bag for the book you had brought with you, desperate for some escapism. You felt like you had just been thrown back in time and you were back in the children’s home again, hiding from those who picked on you. As the afternoon pressed on into the evening, you felt your stomach rumbling as you curled up on the bed, willing it to be quiet. You were hungry but you weren’t willing to risk Steve telling you off or worse if you somehow did something wrong.

As you began to doze off, you heard the front door burst open and a new group of voices enter the house, all of them loudly welcoming Steve back to the States as they rummaged around in the kitchen for beers and snacks. You closed your eyes once more, attempting to get some sleep despite your rumbling stomach but the noise coming from the living room made it hard to fall asleep, especially when the music started to blast.

Back at Tim’s house, Tim was trying his best to herd Kojo away from your bedroom door as he made his own way to bed.

“Come on, man. y/n isn’t here, the room’s empty.” Tim says, attempting to coax Kojo away from the door but in defiance, Kojo lets out a long whine and scratches lightly against the door before lying down right in front of it. After standing and watching Kojo for a few minutes, Tim lets out a defeated sigh before crossing to your bedroom door, pushing it open and watching as Kojo rushes in, hopping up on your bed and curling up, contented. Tim watches Kojo quietly for a moment, a bittersweet smile on his face. Kojo wasn’t the only one who missed your presence around the house. Tim also found himself missing you. The house seemed quieter without you around and Tim found himself selfishly hoping you’d somehow hate your uncle so you’d choose to stay living with him. After shaking himself out of his thoughts, Tim crosses to the bed to stroke Kojo softly.

“You can stay in here. I know you miss her.” Tim says softly, before turning and making his way back to his own room for the night, making sure to leave your bedroom door open and then leaving his door open just in case Kojo decides to join him at any point.

After a whole night of tossing and turning, only managing to grab a couple of hours of sleep through brief sessions of dozing, you get up the next morning and head into the bathroom to freshen up and change. After sorting yourself out, you head out into the kitchen, nose wrinkling at the overwhelming stench of alcohol. You glanced around the room, searching for any sign of Steve being awake or nearby and with the confirmation he wasn’t awake or nearby, you searched through the cupboards for anything you could eat. You ended up finding half a loaf of bread and snuck a piece of bread, toasting it quickly and spreading some butter on before eating it as quickly as possible, darting back to your room as soon as you’re done to hide away so you wouldn’t be in Steve’s line of fire when he starts roaming the house.

The rest of your weekend was spent cowering in your room, hearing Steve stomping around the house, drinking the day away and then inviting all his friends over and keeping you awake all night long with their loud music and conversation. By the time Monday came around you were ready to get out of the house. Since you knew Steve had been drinking all night you had no expectations in getting a lift from him to school so you knew you’d be getting the bus and then walking. As you left your room, bag on your shoulder, you found your phone on the counter, shocked that Steve had the decency to return it to you but you couldn’t forget his warning. Rushing to get out of the house before you miss the bus, you grab your phone off the counter, shoving it in your pocket and exiting the house making your way to the nearest bus stop.

Getting through the day felt like a chore, you were exhausted and hungry. Lunch was a well-needed break to refuel and rest but it wasn’t enough. Your friends had definitely picked up on your low energy but you reassured them with a smile that you had just had a long weekend and needed a good night's sleep. Thankfully your friends didn’t pry any further into it and you were able to get through the rest of the school day and you just couldn’t wait to get home.

When you got home, a smile grew on your face as you drew closer to the door. It felt like a breath of fresh air returning to the house you had grown to love in a few short months. As you put your key in the lock and turned it, your smile grew as you heard the tapping of claws against hardwood, signalling to you that Kojo was making his way to the door to investigate your arrival.

“Hey, buddy!” You greet Kojo enthusiastically as soon as you’re in the house, crouching down to be at his level, laughing as he jumps all over you, pushing you to the floor and smothering you in kisses.

“I know. I missed you too.” You say, your smile not fading as you pet Kojo, so overwhelmingly happy to see him again. After Kojo had calmed down enough for you to sit up, you decide to take him on a walk, going to his favourite park and playing plenty of games with him before returning back home. Upon reaching the house, you felt exhaustion setting into every part of you. You let Kojo into the house, kicked your shoes off and crossed to the living room couch, collapsing on it and turning the tv on to watch whatever was on. You stretched out across the sofa, slipping a cushion under your head as you watched the random show you had put on. As you lay there, Kojo hopped up on the couch, wiggling his way alongside you as you threw an arm over him, not caring that his body was taking up most of the space. As you continued to watch the tv, you felt your eyelids growing heavier with each passing second, each blink longer than the last. Eventually, the need for sleep wins out and you begin to doze off, feeling safe and surrounded by peace and quiet.

When Tim got home, he was surprised that Kojo had not immediately come barrelling his way to greet him, and neither had you. As Tim closed the door behind him, he heard faint sounds coming from the living room and he rounded the corner to find you fast asleep on the sofa with Kojo under your arm. Unlike you, Kojo was wide awake, staring at Tim with perked-up ears, signalling that he was happy to see Tim.

“Hey, Kojo. Everything okay?” Tim asks Kojo quietly, petting Kojo softly. After greeting Kojo, Tim gently reaches out and shakes your shoulder enough to rouse you.

“Hey, kid. Busy weekend?” Tim asks softly, smiling as you blink your eyes open and bury your face back into the cushion.

“I guess.” You mumble, the tiredness obvious in your voice as your eyes slip shut again.

“You hungry?” Tim then asks, watching as you nod, eyes opening once more.

“Starving.” You admit, hand running up and down Kojo’s back as he lets out a small happy sigh, nuzzling further into you.

“Okay, you get some more rest. I’ll wake you up when dinner is ready.” Tim says, grabbing the remote and turning the tv off as you nod lightly, eyes closing again while Tim turns to head to the kitchen. You continued to nap peacefully with Kojo keeping a watchful eye on you while Tim cooked, deciding to make your favourite meal to welcome you back. He had been concerned over the weekend due to the lack of messages he got from you but he just convinced himself that you were having a good time with your uncle. He had attempted to do some digging into your uncle’s history to see if he had a criminal record and couldn’t find anything which reassured him slightly that you were in good hands but it didn’t make him feel any more at ease about where you’d be living in the future. When Tim finishes cooking, he heads back to the living room and gently rouses you once more. You wake up with a bit more energy than you had earlier and you were ready to eat dinner so you follow Tim into the kitchen to plate up your food before sitting at the table, digging in almost instantly.

“This is amazing, Tim.” You say gratefully.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you were starving, huh?” Tim muses lightly, lifting his drink to his lips to take a sip.

“Had a busy weekend. Used a lot of energy.” You lie, shrugging before continuing to eat your food.

“That’s good to hear. Do you get along with your uncle?” Tim then asks, trying to make the question seem innocent while he tries to gauge how you feel about spending time with your uncle.

“He’s okay, I guess.” You shrug, not ready to tell Tim about your uncle’s activities although your brain was screaming at you to tell him everything. But everything still felt awkward after you almost called him ‘Dad’ so you felt like you had to tread on ice around Tim to keep things as normal as possible.

“There’s not any problems, is there?” Tim asks, glancing up at you and watching as you shake your head.

“No. No problems. I’m just getting used to everything.” You say, poking slightly at your food. You felt guilty for lying to Tim, especially given that your uncle wanted to use you to get drugs. You knew Tim would help you out if you asked him to, but you were terrified that if Steve did get arrested, he’d hurt Tim and you couldn’t live with that on your conscience.

“If anything happens, you know you can tell me, right?” Tim asks softly, having a slight feeling that something isn’t right but not wanting to push too hard.

“I know. And I appreciate that. It’s just weird growing up thinking I had no family and then all of a sudden I have an uncle pop out of nowhere, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it.” You say with a small smile, finishing the last of your food before sitting back, full and satisfied. After finishing your meal and waiting for Tim to do the same, you put your plate and cup away in the dishwasher before a yawn slips past your lips.

“I might crash early, I’m still tired.” You admit quietly, smiling as Kojo sidles up alongside you.

“That’s fine. You do sound tired. Go and rest up, kid.” Tim says with a gentle smile before quietly bidding you goodnight as you head to your room, Kojo following behind you loyally. Once you’ve gotten yourself ready for bed you bury yourself under your duvet with Kojo curling up at the end of your bed and you fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillow.

By the time the next Friday afternoon rolled around, you felt even more nervous than you did the prior week. You hadn’t done any research into who could put Steve into contact with the big drug dealers. You knew if word got out that you had helped Steve find drugs, it would reflect badly on Tim and you’d rather accept whatever punishment Steve had in store than Tim get in trouble for what you did. When Steve arrived at the door, he was once again greeted by Tim and so plastered on his ‘nice guy’ persona and you longed to expose the type of man he really was. Kojo once again growled lowly at Steve’s presence and while you wished you could allow Kojo to do so, you had to get him to quieten down. Once Steve beckoned for you to follow him, you crossed to Tim, ready to say goodbye.

“Have a good weekend kid. Call me if you need anything. No matter the time.” Tim whispers, hugging you close as you squeeze back softly.

“Really?” You whisper back, not ready to break the hug just yet.

“Really. If you need me, I’ll be there.” Tim says reassuringly, giving you one final squeeze before releasing you from the hug. Once you step back from the embrace, you whisper a quiet goodbye before following Steve out to his car, prepping yourself for what might be to come.

The moment Steve parks outside his house, he turns to look at you, an expectant look on his face.

“So, did you find anything?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as you clear your throat nervously.

“I couldn’t get through to anyone on social media.” You lie, fighting the urge to fiddle with your fingers so Steve wouldn’t catch on to your lies.

“You really are fucking useless, aren’t you? No fucking wonder my brother wanted nothing to do with you.” Steve says angrily, getting out of the car and slamming the door behind him while you scramble to follow behind him, not wanting to be locked out.

“What about your friends? Do they not know anyone?” You ask, wondering if the people who had spent the weekend would know anyone.

“Of course they do. I wanted to get in with the big dealers and you’ve fucked that up for me.” He says, fury evident in his voice as you both enter the house. You longed to correct him, to tell him that the kids you knew in the home would’ve only been lowly members of their gangs and drug groups. None of them would’ve been on speaking terms with the big dealers in the area. But you didn’t dare voice that to Steve, he was already pissed off enough with your failure and you didn’t dare poke the bear further. So instead you elect to head to your room, ready to hide away for the weekend but Steve soon calls out to you.

“Phone. Now. You know the rules.” He says, arm outstretched and hand open as he waits for you to give him your phone. You begrudgingly pull your phone out of your pocket and place it in Steve’s hand, wishing you had the strength to stand up to him. Once he snatches the phone from you, you turn tail and return to your room, ready for another long weekend.

The Friday night was nothing different to the previous weekend, Steve’s friends had come around and they spent the night getting drunk and high while blasting music. But Saturday night was different.

The whole day had been a bad one, Steve had caught you trying to sneak food, trying to leave the house to buy food, whatever you tried he somehow caught you in the process. As evening fell you knew Steve was in the worst mood possible and even when his friends began to arrive, his mood still wasn’t improving. You remained in your room, listening to the yells as he and his friends watched the football game and the more you had to listen to him getting angrier and angrier, the more you just wanted to get out of this house. Eventually, around the early hours of the morning, when the outside got quieter, you knew everyone had passed out so you could sneak out into the house and find your phone. You made a beeline for Steve’s room, unsurprised to find it empty, knowing he was likely asleep in the living room. You rummaged through drawers, eventually finding your phone hidden in his bedside table. Once you had the phone in your possession, you shoved it into your pocket and bolted out of the room and just as you made it to your bedroom door, you heard footsteps behind you.

“What are you doing?” You whip around to see Steve standing before you, arms folded across his chest as he glared down at you.

“I just needed to use the bathroom.” You stammer, slowly trying to back towards your bedroom door, your nose wrinkling with the overwhelming stench of alcohol coming from Steve.

“I’m so fucking fed up with you. You’ve been testing me all day. I think it’s time I taught you a lesson.” Steve says lowly, making you bolt into your room, locking the door behind you as you begin to hear Steve pounding on the door. You scramble to hide in the closet, pulling out your phone and calling Tim.

Tim woke up the moment he heard his phone ringing. His hand reached for his phone before his eyes were even open but the moment he opened his eyes and saw your name displayed across his phone, he picked up the call instantly.

“y/n, is everything okay?” Tim asks worriedly, already beginning to sit up in bed.

“Tim…” Your voice was thick with tears and Tim was immediately leaping out of bed and scrambling to get changed.

“y/n/n, talk to me, kid. What’s wrong?” Tim urges softly, unlocking his safe and grabbing his off-duty weapon as well as his radio.

“Steve is drunk, and probably high too and he- I upset him…” You say, more tears slipping down your cheeks and when you pause, Tim hears violent shouts and pounding on the door and he knows he has to help you.

“Okay, can you send me your location? I’m coming to get you.” Tim says, making his way to the front door. His phone soon pings and when he checks his phone he sees your location displayed.

“Please hurry Tim.” You whisper, trembling as Steve continues to pound on the door.

“I’m coming, kid. Are you hiding somewhere?” Tim asks as he grabs his truck keys.

“I’m hiding in the closet and I locked my bedroom door.” You say, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“That’s good. Now, don’t open your door or anything until you hear me tell you it’s safe to come out. Got it?” Tim instructs.

“Okay.” You reply, sniffling slightly as you try to wipe the never-ending tears away. You hear Tim radio for help and the sounds of him getting in his truck. Tim stayed on the phone the whole way to your location, meeting the night shift officers who responded to his radio for help.

“y/n, I’m going to hang up now. Remember what I said.” Tim warns, bidding you a quiet goodbye before ending the call and crossing to the officers who were beginning to get ready to raid the house.

“We’ve got to get in there. My kid’s in there.” Tim says, approaching the officers while checking his gun.

“Do we know how many people are in the house Officer Bradford?” One of them asks, glancing over at Tim.

“Other than y/n I know there’s at least one other person in the house and he’s the threat. I want to get y/n out of there right now.” Tim says firmly, not wanting to waste time when he knows you’re in danger. Thankfully, the officers had finished getting ready and so they breached the house, stirring all the passed-out occupants and while they got rounded up, Tim went in search of you. He made his way through the house, gun in hand as he followed the shouts and slams, eventually finding Steve standing outside your bedroom door, a knife glistening under the hall light.

“Drop the knife!” Tim yells, holding his gun up as Steve turns around to face him, the anger evident on his face.

“Oh, that bitch.” He growls angrily, turning around to pound his fist against the door a couple more times.

“Hey. Drop the knife now.” Tim repeats his instruction, gun still expertly trained on Steve.

“Make me.” Steve taunts, glancing over his shoulder with a menacing grin before focusing his attention back on your bedroom door. At Steve’s taunt, Tim decides he’s had enough. He knew it was the opposite of a good idea to charge someone with a knife but judging from the stench all around the house, Tim had a feeling Steve was intoxicated with both drugs and alcohol. Tim’s aggressive charge sent both men clear through the bedroom door and caused Steve to drop the knife he had been clutching. Due to Steve’s intoxication, Tim was easily able to gain the upper hand and forced Steve onto his stomach, pulling his arms behind his back and handcuffing him.

“You’re under arrest,” Tim says firmly, fighting not to let satisfaction sneak into his voice as he straightened up just as another police officer entered the room.

“The house is clear.” The officer says, hauling Steve to his feet and beginning to lead him out while Steve swears and glares.

“Good. Now get him out of here.” Tim says, glancing around the room and locating the closet you had said you were hiding in as the officer led Steve out of the room.

“y/n, it’s safe to come out now,” Tim says softly and at his words, you come barrelling out of the closet and straight into Tim’s outstretched arms. When he feels your legs buckle, he eases the two of you to the ground, holding you close, one hand braced on the back of your head as he holds you.

“I was so scared, Dad.” You whisper, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cling to him. Tim heard what you had called him but he chose not to bring attention to it, knowing you just needed comfort in that moment.

“You did the right thing by calling me. He’s not going to get near you again.” Tim vows, cradling you impossibly closer as you tremble in his arms.

“I should’ve told you sooner. But I was so scared that you’d get hurt.” You say quietly, squeezing your eyes shut as they begin to sting from the amount of tears building in your eyes.

“Hey, let me worry about myself. It’s my job to worry about you, not the other way around.” Tim assures you softly, glancing over his shoulder when he hears footsteps behind him and unconsciously holds you closer.

“Officer Bradford. We need to take a statement from y/n. Is that okay?” The officer that is standing in the doorway asks tentatively as Tim lets out a small sigh. He knew it was protocol, and that it was best for you to give a statement soon after the events since they’re still fresh but he wasn’t prepared to have to leave your side for it. Just as Tim opens his mouth to ask for a little bit more time, you speak up.

“I’ll do it.” You say quietly, pulling away from the embrace slightly to look up at Tim, offering him a small, teary smile to reassure him you’d be okay. Tim regards you for a second before sighing softly and nodding.

“You head outside to give your statement. I’ll gather your stuff.” Tim says, getting to his feet and helping you up in the process. You nod shyly at his words before Tim pulls you into a quick reassuring hug before letting you follow the police officer outside to give your statement. Once you’re gone from sight, Tim focuses on packing your belongings, putting everything in your bag and slinging it over his shoulder once the bag is fully packed. Tim then exits the house, slowly approaching the group of police cars, and sees you standing opposite a police detective, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you recount every event of what had happened earlier. Tim watched from a distance, making sure you could see him but he kept enough distance so he couldn’t hear what was being said. Eventually, the detective says something and you nod before crossing over to Tim, cheeks still tear-stained but you have stopped crying.

“You all done?” Tim asks quietly, holding you gently by the shoulders.

“Yeah. The detective said I might need to give more statements if they need more but they said they’d speak to you first about anything.” You say lifting your hand to wipe at your cheeks fiercely.

“Let’s get you home. I know Kojo’s missing you.” Tim says, attempting to lighten the mood a little, smiling when he sees a small smile appear on your face.

“I miss him too.” You say as Tim releases your shoulders, instead wrapping an arm around you to guide you to his truck. You get into the truck, just wanting to go home and forget everything that had happened. The drive was filled with the rumble of the engine and the radio playing lowly as you watched the world go by. When you finally get home, you were exhausted yet you didn’t want to go to sleep. Tim unlocked the front door and Kojo was soon greeting you at the door, whining happily as you greeted him with a smile.

“I might stay up a little while. I want to take my mind off everything.” You say quietly as Tim closes the front door behind him, both of you kicking your shoes off.

“Do you want some company? I’m happy to stay up with you.” Tim offers, making a small smile appear on your face.

“That would be nice. I was going to watch a lighthearted movie or something. Is that okay?” You ask, nervous as to what Tim’s response might be.

“That’s fine. Whatever you need to do to decompress after tonight is your choice.” Tim says with a soft smile, making you let out a soft sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” You say softly, both you and Tim then crossing to the living room and settling on the couch as you turn the tv on, opening a streaming site and searching for a movie to watch.

“Hey, y/n, before we start the movie. Could I talk to you about something?” Tim says, finally getting the courage to speak to you about the topic he’d been holding off on for two weeks now.

“What is it?” You ask, putting the remote down and leaning back on the couch.

“A couple of weeks ago when I dropped you off at school, before all this stuff with Steve, you said bye to me on your way out of the truck and it sounded like you almost called me ‘Dad’ before you corrected yourself. And then you called me ‘Dad’ again earlier tonight.” Tim explains, keeping his voice soft so you don’t get the wrong idea. As Tim talks, you feel your cheeks heat up, you knew about your slip-up at school but you had no recollection of actually calling him dad earlier.

“I’m so sorry. I know it’s probably not what you want. I won’t do it again.” You say, apologising as you reach out to pet Kojo to distract yourself.

“Don’t apologise. It’s actually an honour that you see me as a father figure. I think of you as my own daughter. You can call me whatever makes you comfortable. And if ‘Dad’ is something you’re comfortable with calling me. Then that’s okay with me.” Tim says, seeing the small smile that grows across your face as you nod, thanking Tim quietly before he pulls you into a quick hug.

“Now, let’s watch this movie shall we?” Tim then says, scooping the remote off the coffee table and hitting play on the movie you had queued up before settling back on the sofa. As the movie progresses, Tim becomes aware of you yawning and while he knew you weren’t ready to go to your own bed for the night, he didn’t want to deny you the space to stretch out on the sofa.

“You know, if you want to lie down you can. I don’t mind.” Tim says softly, drawing your attention away from the tv for a second as you tilt your head slightly.

“Are you sure?” You ask, wanting to be sure Tim was okay with it.

“Positive,” Tim says softly, grabbing the blanket from behind him and laying it over you as you settle across the sofa, laying your head against his leg, curling up while you focused on the screen. Over the next twenty minutes, you felt your eyelids grow heavy and while you would’ve normally fought to stay awake, you were comforted by the presence of both Tim and Kojo. You knew you were safe and that Tim wouldn’t let anyone or anything hurt you. Comforted by those thoughts, you allowed yourself to slowly fall asleep.

It took Tim a few minutes to realise you had fallen asleep. It was only when he realised how quiet you had fallen that he thought to check on you and he softened when he saw you asleep. After the conversation he had with you about calling him ‘Dad’, he couldn’t help but care for you even more. Growing up, Tim’s only example of a dad was his own pathetic excuse of a father so Tim had grown up terrified that he was bound to go down a similar path, but since fostering you, Tim had discovered that being a father was something that came naturally to him and he proved to himself that he was nothing like the man who raised him. After watching you for a moment, Tim lets out a gentle sigh before reaching for his phone, opening his texts and finding Kiara’s number, typing out a message to her before hitting send.

‘I want to move forward with adopting y/n.’

taglist (comment or ask to be added):

@starlightandsouls @whirlwind2005

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 13

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist

Rating: E (pregnancy sex, lactation, grief)

A/N: Thank you endlessly for being so patient with me while I've been on hiatus ❤ I'm gonna stay off for another couple weeks, but I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long. I appreciate every single person that has stuck with me on this! Thank you to @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @the-scandalorian for helping me with this one - you both are the biggest brains and the most wonderful writers and I am insanely lucky to have you on my team. Enjoy! ❤

--

Jackson. 

The image of the map is burned into Joel’s mind, always present. 

More concerned with your safety than anything, he knows you should leave, but as the weeks slip by, what picks at him more is that he didn’t have an answer to your question that day. 

“Where are we gonna go?”

He should be one step ahead. He should be on top of the potential outcomes. He should have a plan, since that’s always been his role. Stepped up with one when he had Sarah, took care of Tommy before the Outbreak, and after, led their way in the QZ. After Tommy left, he still did it, even if he was going through the motions more than anything. Doing it has always been second nature, a means to survive. 

You’d let his lack of answer drop because he knew you didn’t want to leave, and of course, he knew you shouldn’t. Not right now. But still - still - he should have had a plan for something he knew was bound to happen sometime. Blinded by the light of your fierce optimism and wanting so badly to believe in it, he simply…didn’t think about it. The first time that’s happened in decades. 

You’re depending on him, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t have an answer ready.

“Where are we gonna go?”

He doesn’t fucking know.  

Wood dust floats to settle on the floorboards around his boots, and he runs a piece of sandpaper over the beam of rough lumber that rests across his lap. The rhythmic sweeps soothe his nerves, and he tries to focus on how good it feels to do something useful with wood again. Something familiar, the dry grain sliding against his palms. A task done because he wants to, instead of as a means to get by like so much else in his life. 

This…this was for him, and for you. 

The late afternoon sun streams through the window in the shed, not quite enough to dissipate the chill. Crisp air breezes in through the open door, the sweet smell of damp leaves blending with the wood and the tips of his fingers are cold enough to stop, but he doesn’t. He has to make the most of your nap times if he wants to get this done before next week. 

Before Christmas - or the closest approximation to the date anyway, using your rudimentary calendar. Celebrating the holiday had been your idea, and like every other time when it came to something you asked for, he couldn’t say no. He said yes when you asked him to cut you a tree, nodded when you pointed to the one you wanted after a trek through the woods, helped you rip strips of red, moth bitten flannel that was worthless for clothing just to watch you tie bows to the end of the branches, as a means to decorate it. 

He was impressed by your constant resourcefulness and ingenuity when it came to the things you’d been given, and at night, when the lantern shone on it and bathed the living room in a cozy glow, it almost did feel like Christmas time. The closest thing to it that he’s felt in years, anyway. 

Placing the sandpaper on the floor and picking up a knife, his mind follows the trail marked on the map. Winding through woods and across open swathes of land, it passes right through your area and he knows it’s only a matter of time before someone else follows the first. He knows that man can’t have been the only one with a map. 

He frowns, gouging the wood a little more forcibly as he works through a knot, and he pictures the curve of your cheek, the delicate line of your neck, the bright happiness in your eyes here. That Christmas tree, in the front room. Torn between the idea of the unknown being just as unsafe as being a sitting duck at the cabin, he is restless with the need to move. The urge to keep you tucked away and protected from the world spreads beneath his skin and grows stronger every day, along with your stomach. 

It’s large enough that it strains against the shirts you’ve borrowed from him, and though you’ve started choosing large sweatshirts instead, it’s begun to push against those too. You’ve begun to sway when you stand in place, an unconscious rock as a means to relieve pressure on your lower back, and he pictures you doing the same with a baby in your arms as you stand next to the cradle that he’s been building.

When he thinks about leaving it behind only to gather dust as he drags you somewhere else, the image eats at him, reminding him too much of another room, left behind to rot. 

Another life, upended by abrupt violence. 

Guilt has always gnawed at him for so many things, and following the mental image of you holding a baby, he adds to the growing list: the idea of another child replacing the one he had. 

He fixates on all the things he couldn’t do for her on that last day but also the things time has robbed from him: the image of her face, the sound of her laugh. The books she liked, the order in which she lost her teeth, the weight of her infant body in his arms. How much of that time he spent without her while trying to provide for her, and how here, he’s got all the time in the world for this new child. His new child. 

More feelings; the knife gouging deeper. Looking forward to a holiday that can’t include her, nervously anticipating holding a baby that belongs to him, looking at you and what you’ve built together and being so fucking happy he missed his mark on that bleak day ten years ago. 

Is it betrayal to feel joy?

He’s not replacing her. He knows that. He knows, and yet the guilt never stops and so neither do his hands nor his mind, both working on fixing other problems that can be fixed. 

Jackson. 

A bed for the baby.

–

“I know it would be cold, but I think I’d rather have snow.”

You look out at the sodden garden, the neat, large borders that surround it blending in with the damp landscape. The fence that Joel built the only visual marker of where it’s at, it’s prepped for winter, buried in a dense layer of leaves and compost. You absentmindedly finger the leaf of a plant you brought inside with you, sheets of rain sliding down the window. 

“Not me,” he says. “Might look pretty, but it would be a whole lot more dangerous.”

The blurred, muted mash of colors outside all blend together, the world a canvas of dingy brown and bleak gray. Everything soggy and limp, everything saturated with wetness: at this very moment, you’d take danger over another day of this. 

Turning away from the depressing sight, you watch him sort through a pile of loose screws and nails on the coffee table. His head bent in his task, his shirt pulls tight across his shoulders as he hunches over and nudges each piece of metal with the tip of his finger, sorting them. Listening to the pleasant clink of them being dropped into glass jars, you go back to watering the plants. 

After a process that had you pouring over the gardening book for days, you left what you could in the garden in order to have a good base for the spring, but took the rest inside, to see if you could keep growing anything through the winter. 

Mismatched buckets and pots, an amalgamation of anything that would hold enough soil to plant a seed in, it was an experiment for sure. Enough was stored in the pantry to get you through the winter if you stayed lean enough about rations, and Joel had been pushing his portions upon you like there was no tomorrow, constantly assuring you that he had plenty. 

“What is this?”

Stopping to stretch his back with a groan, he’s picked up a loose, shapeless scrap of fabric off the couch. 

“Wait –” you protest, setting the watering can down. 

He frowns at it, turning it in his hands, and when you make a hasty grab for it, he keeps it out of your reach with a chuckle.

“This my present, honey?” His facial expression still puzzled, he tries to work out what it is. 

“It’s for the baby,” you explain. Coming to stand next to him, you turn it upright. “See? This is the neckhole, and the arms go here.”

“.......And the legs?”

“I’m not that good at sewing, okay?” you defend yourself with a laugh. “I thought maybe their legs could just hang out in this little…sack area.”

You make a self deprecating face, looking to him for a reaction, and he fingers the bottom of it. 

“That ain’t bad. You should see if you can tie up the bottom, you know, for a draft or somethin’.”

“I used all the spare laces on the pants. I tried to make some, but of course I don’t have elastic and I don’t know how big to make them around the waist for a button, so I thought I could just cut two holes and make like, a little belt so that it would grow with the baby and...”

Your words taper off when you realize he’s staring up at you with an amused expression and you let your shoulders drop in defeat. “This kid is gonna look like they’re from the eighteen hundreds, aren’t they.” 

“I guess you would know, with the books you’re always readin’,” he says with a grin, and the stack of historical fiction next to your side of the bed comes to mind. 

“Oh God,” you moan quietly to yourself. 

Standing with a soft grunt, he bends to press a kiss to the crown of your hair. 

“Don’t worry about it,  honey,” he murmurs. “You about ready for bed? I’m gonna go do a final lap.”

Checking the perimeter of the cabin while you bank the wood stove for the night, he eventually joins you in the bedroom, bringing in the smell of cool night air with him. Already in bed, you’re propped against the headboard with your book in hand, and you admire him as he gets ready for bed himself: the edges of his curling locks catching the light in a glowing chestnut, the warmth held in his tanned skin as he peels off his shirt, the soft give of his still trim stomach as he pads over to bed. He climbs in, adjusting the covers around the two of you. 

“What about Mae?” you ask absentmindedly, skimming the book in front of you. 

He shrugs. “Not bad.”

You make a face at the reception. “What about….Lauren?”

Stretching out on his side to face you, he rests his hand on your bump, smoothing the fabric of your sleep shirt down. A small movement nudges underneath his palm, and the corner of his mouth lifts. An intimate, quiet moment, you keep reading while he chases the constant movements with his touch, his fingers splayed wide, searching. 

“Always so squirrely at night,” he says, the words rounded with softness. 

“Tell me about it,” you sigh. 

You set your book to the side and slide down next to him as he reaches to turn off the lantern, and the two of you lay facing each other, your belly between the length of your bodies. His hand finds your stomach again, and you let yours rest over it, guiding his touch lower. Lower, until the tips of his fingers brush against the band of your underwear and also right where a set of feet (or hands) slide underneath your skin. The taut skin shifts with rapid movement, a sensation that never fails to mesmerize you, but it’s something else when he’s the one who gets to see it. Watching him experiencing it is your favorite. 

“What about Margaret? I’ve always liked that name.”

He makes a face, telling you all you need to know. “What makes you so sure it’s gonna be a girl?” 

You shrug, lifting the hem of your shirt so you can feel his skin on yours, and his hand slides right back into place. 

“Have you thought of any names?” you ask quietly.

“I, uh…I was sorta thinkin’ about June.” His dark eyes flit up to yours. “After June Carter Cash. Or Pearl, after –”

“You wanna name my baby after Pearl Jam?” your eyebrows raise. You’ve heard him humming “Future Days” while working outside, you know the band is a favorite of his. 

He grins at your reaction. “That a no?”

“I should have guessed it would be music related,” you tease with a smile, scooting closer. “I like June. It’s pretty.”

The gentle exploration of his touch soothes you, and you close your eyes to savor it. 

“What about boy names?” you ask. “I can’t really think of any. It’s actually what makes me think it’s a girl, like she’s trying to tell me something.”

“I haven’t thought of too many either. Thomas, for my brother, maybe?”

“That’s a good one.” You yawn, and sleep softly rounds the edges of your words. “Are you ready for next week?”

The preparation of his gift has your hands aching and grasping one with the other, you rub the tender knuckles, working some of the soreness out. Wordlessly, he reaches for your hand and takes it into his own, kneading the joints. 

“I think so. S’kinda nice, havin’ a Christmas.” His touch lingers on the tips of your fingers, warming them. “Too cold in here? I can put another log on if you want.”

“No, it’s just…they ache. They're so swollen they get stiff sometimes. I don’t think the damp is helping.”

You hear it now, peppering the window in the dark. The steady drum of rain on the window, the sound makes the room all the more inviting: warm and safe, his body heat radiating underneath the quilt. He keeps rubbing your fingers, his own larger hands cradling your smaller one, and akin to someone rubbing your back to sleep, the touch lulls you, your eyes fluttering shut. 

“This good?” His mouth brushes lightly against your knuckles, his lips pressing against your fingers before he breathes warm air on them. 

“Mmmm, yea.” Silent for a moment, you speak. “Joel?”

He hums in acknowledgement of his name, and you voice the nightly request you started asking him weeks ago. 

“Tell me what you know.”

A prompt he’s seemingly ready for, he shifts to get comfortable, letting out a sigh. The motion similar to someone getting ready to tell a bedtime story, your reaction to curl tight next to him is the same. 

The first time you asked him this, he barely remembered anything. Other memories taking their place, the finer details of pregnancy and birth were buried deep, most of them forgotten. He remembered the doctor's visits but not the frequency. The general concept of birth but not the stages. The pain, but as someone who didn’t go through it, he couldn’t tell you what labor actually felt like. 

All guesses and long ago recollections, you took them because they were better than nothing. Tonight, he tells you about the night feedings. 

“Babies, they uh…” he begins in his gravely, lowered voice, trying to speak softly in the darkness. “You know they eat every couple of hours or so for a while after they’re born. Weeks of it.”

You nod against his shoulder, listening to his deep drawl. 

“I don’t remember much because when you don’t get a lot of sleep it all tends to blur together, y’know? But I do remember some of them. Peaceful, sometimes. Everything is so quiet and still, and there ain’t nothin’ but you and them, sittin’ together.”

He stops, and you reach up to brush your fingers along the edge of his jaw, just enough to let him know you’re listening. He sighs, a heavy, contemplative thing. 

“They are so small in your hands. So small it’s scary. I remember bein’ so careful, always feelin’ like I was gonna accidentally hurt her, or –” his breath hitches, and he swallows hard. He’s silent for a moment, and your breath slows and evens out. “Anyway, they don’t let you get any sleep, not for a few months, but sometimes….sometimes, you don’t mind.”

Your body loose and relaxed next to his, you’re on the edge of sleep when the words tumble softly out of your mouth. 

“Joel?”

“Yea?” 

“I’m scared.” The confession is whispered into his bare skin, and you breathe in his comforting, familiar smell, the steady drum of his heart beating underneath your cheek. His hand is a weighty drag down the line of your spine, the feeling of it steadying you. 

The wind blows outside, rain pelting the glass. 

“I know, honey,” he answers. “Me too.”

–

Long after you’ve fallen asleep, he stays awake, his mind lost in a memory. 

Her tiny body rigid with deceiving strength, he struggles to force her arm into a small sleeve. His hand is huge compared to her fragile arm, her skin downy soft under his palm, and moonlight shines through the window in her bedroom just enough to light the features of her scrunched, upset face. A small wail pierces the darkness, and succeeding in dressing her, he lifts her up. 

One hand cupping her entire bottom with the other covering her back, he makes low shushing sounds with his mouth to soothe her, inhaling the milky sweet smell that clings to her skin. 

“Hey baby girl, shhh. I got you. I got you.”

Her tiny face burrows into his chest, her body squirming until she gets comfortable, and he keeps soothing with low hums, his hand rubbing a slow circle over her purple pajamas as she settles. 

Moving slowly so as not to disturb her, he sits down in the rocking chair and continues to hold her; the carpet plush under his bare foot that gently pushes off the floor. His sleep blurred eyes focus on the small turn of a glass butterfly that hangs from her window, the rounded curves catching the moonlight as she sleeps on his chest. 

He lets the unearthed, vivid memory wash over him as his chest constricts, the pain suffocating. Finding himself in this position more and more since you started asking him about what he remembers, he closes his eyes and succumbs to the pain: worth it, to see her face again. To remember things he’d thought he’d forgotten. 

The edges of the memory blur and crumble, his mind losing its focus on that purple room and on the cusp of sleep, he tries to grasp and hold on tight to the details until they fade away. 

–

“Keep your eyes closed, okay? Wasn’t much to wrap with.” 

Anticipation thrums through you, your features lax with fondness as you wait patiently on the living room floor with your eyes closed. A fire crackles in the wood stove next to you, shadows pooled in the corners of the living room where the light doesn’t reach, and you scoot a little closer to absorb more heat. 

Never one to linger in bed, he’s been up since dawn, and when you awoke alone, there was a  weighted, peaceful stillness in the air—a significance to the day that was at best, a guess. Still, you felt it all the same: through drinking tea with him on the back porch this morning, through reading on the couch this afternoon, through helping him prep the small feast you allowed yourselves for dinner. 

You hear and feel a shift in the air when he comes to sit in front of you, setting your present at your feet. 

“Okay, you can open ‘em.”

Laughter bubbles bright and loud when you see what it is.

“Joel Miller, you shouldn’t have.” Picking up the bottle of vinegar, you tilt it in the light to see how much is left: about half, which is a find indeed. “How long have you been hiding this?”

He shrugs, looking pleased with your reaction. “Not too long. I found it when I went to check out that last cabin. I know it’s not a lot, but I thought it would be useful.”

Vinegar means pickling, means cleaning, means acid for the soil of your plants that you moved inside for the winter, and even though the label is half peeled off and the contents might not be as potent as they once were, you have never been so happy to see a bottle of the stuff in your life. 

“Thank you,” you say softly, leaning forward as much as you can, presenting your lips for a kiss. He gives you one, and you pull back, your mouth twisted in an apologetic pout. “This is a way better gift than what I got you.”

“That’s not true,” he argues. “You fixed my favorite jacket. Feels brand new.”

After snagging it on a tree branch while hunting, he had been so disappointed when he inspected the size of the rip when he came home. Handing it to you, he had declared it no good anymore and told you to use it for something else, but knowing it was his favorite, you’d been mending it in secret while he went out for the day. Textiles being a scarcity aside, that jacket was also your favorite: it’s the one he’s been wearing since you first started out; the sight of it comforting to you. 

“I actually got you somethin’ else, but you’ll have to close your eyes again.”

You automatically squeeze your eyes shut, your hands playfully grabbing the air as you squirm on the floor, and the sound of his low chuckle makes you smile wider. Hearing the front door open and then close, you frown when the object he places at your feet sounds heavy.

“Okay, open em’ up.”

It’s immediate, the way your expression drops from delight into something more reverential. Your breath frozen in your lungs, you reach out and touch the smooth edges of the cradle. Tracing the perfectly fit together corners, you take in how small it is – so small - but perfect. 

Your eyes lift to meet his, tears blurring your vision. “Did you make this?”

“Yea,” he replies softly. “I kept in the shed, workin’ on it when you were napping. I knew we needed somewhere to put her, so I thought –”

“Her?” Your fingers brushing along the neat edges, you look up at him with a small, watery smile, and he matches it with a soft one of his own. 

“Sure, why not. You’ve convinced me.” Affection is open and obvious on his face, the lines that normally crease his forehead softened as he watches you look it over. 

“This is…so much, Joel. It’s beautiful. I don’t even know how…I was thinking we’d have to put her in a dresser drawer or something, and I –” Overwhelmed with his thoughtfulness, you’re at a loss for words. “Thank you,” you eventually settle on, hoping the sincereness in your words expresses everything you feel. 

“You look so surprised,” he says, teasing laced in his tone. “Did you really think I would get you just a half bottle of vinegar for Christmas?” 

“I don’t know!” you laugh, a hitch in your breathing as you settle your emotions. “We can’t exactly go Christmas shopping, so I figured you did the best you could.”

He reaches to swipe a tear from the round of your cheek, and you chase the heat of his palm, leaning into it. “It’s been so long since I gave anyone a Christmas present. Glad I’m not totally out of practice.”

Gently sliding the cradle out of the way, you rise to your knees to give him a kiss. 

“I love it.”

You kiss him again, his lips tinted red from the wine at dinner, and the bitterness sweeps through your mouth when he gifts you a slow slide of his tongue. The tentative heat held in his response passes to you, and swallowing his hunger, it spreads through your limbs to pool between your legs. Pressing forward, your hand reaches out for his shirt, and you deepen the kiss.

You hope it conveys everything you want to put into words but can’t: appreciation, love, gratitude. Keeping your mouth on his, you slip your hand around the back of his neck and threading your fingers up through his locks, you hold him in place, his hand grasping your elbow to steady you as a soft sound rumbles from his throat. 

“I guess you really liked it.”

You just nod, pulling him in for another kiss, his familiar taste and scent filling your senses as he presses himself closer, and when you let out the catch of a moan in your throat, he pulls back just far enough for you to see hooded want in his eyes.

“We done with the gift exchange?” He presses a kiss to your your throat, his lips warm and delicate over the skin he finds and you nod, letting him taste.

“Here,” he asks, his mouth moving just below your ear, “or in the bedroom?”

“Here,” you breathe, cupping his whiskered cheeks to pull his mouth back to yours. Your hand slips between his thighs, finding him half hard under his jeans, and groaning into your mouth, he shifts on the floor to kneel in front of you. Your fingers work the buttons of his flannel open, pushing it from his shoulders at the same time he grabs the hem of your shirt to work it over your head and off. Undoing your bra, you fling it onto the floor as his hand reaches back to tug his t-shirt off in a smooth, overhand motion, and your hands drop to his belt buckle, tugging it open.  

The back of your knuckles swipe through the line of coarse hair that leads under the waistband of his jeans, a slight shakiness to your movements betraying the need you feel, and it’s something he sees and rewards with another consuming kiss.

The rest of your clothes tugged off in a rush, he rests his back against the couch and guides you onto his lap, the soft inside of your thighs straddling the outside of his firmer ones. One of the only comfortable positions you’ve got left, it’s been your favorite because it gives him unfettered access to your breasts and when he palms them in appreciation, anticipation sends a warm thrill up your spine. 

Using both his hands, he cups the sides of your jaw to draw you in, holding you in place while he opens your mouth with his, his tongue sliding smoothly against yours. His fingertips dig into the nape of your neck, one hand dropping to palm the plush weight of your breast, and you kiss him back even harder while he delicately teases your nipple with his thumb. 

The calloused pad skims over the top of it, the contrast between the tender touch and the fierceness of his kisses making your head swim with arousal, and pulling back, he takes in your kiss-swollen mouth only for a moment before bending his attention to your breast. 

Using the cradle of his hold, he pushes it up to draw the peak of it into his mouth, and your head tips back, a broken cry coming from your throat. 

“Please. Please.”

He would give you anything – anything – you ask for, and this is no different. He laves his tongue over the peaked bud, dragging firm pressure over it as he draws it into his mouth, and when you dig your fingers into his hair and pull with a moan of pleasure, his hand cups the underside of your breast to push more in. Frenzied, rough, desperate for more, a deep groan slides out of his throat at the same moment you feel a strange, tingling sensation on your nipple. 

Surprise shows in his brown eyes when they flick up to yours, and pulling back, you both stop. 

“Was that –” you ask, and he looks down at your breast, his thumb dragging delicately along the peak. 

“Yea, I think it was,” he answers, slightly mesmerized. 

A drop of milky liquid hangs from the tip of your breast, and he wipes it away, smearing it on your soft skin. Another one takes its place, and his eyes flicker with interest. 

“Holy shit.” 

The words slip out faster than you can stop them, and the corresponding lift of his eyebrows makes you laugh, his own deeper chuckle joining your lighter one. He pulls you in for a kiss right as you’re leaning down for one, and you find there was no hunger lost while the moment was broken; instead it comes back even stronger as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and he holds onto your back with a splayed grip so fierce it makes you squirm. 

Unsure of when you started grinding your hips against his, you work them slightly faster. Spread and wet on his lap, you’re so achingly empty right over where you can feel the heft of him pressing between your bodies, and fire lights under your skin with how much you want him to just take. 

He’s been so careful with you, so considerate in his handling of your body these last few weeks. Always taking care of every need that you have, he’s done so with no less attentiveness, but you can tell that he’s been holding back—a telling rigidness to his muscles when he moves above you, a tightness to his strokes every time he fucks you as if he’s keeping his body  in check to make sure he doesn’t lose himself. Missing the sharp edges to his love, you kiss him harder, and he groans as if in pain, his tongue sliding deep into your mouth. His beard rubs your chin raw, the pressure of his response forcing your body to tip back slightly in his hold.

“Fuck me,” you whine, the words breathless against his lips, and he groans again, breaking your kiss. 

“Christ, honey, turn around.”

Desperate to follow anything he tells you to do, you grip his shoulder to steady yourself as you turn yourself around, your back to his front. His mouth is an immediate brush against the nape of your neck, a heady sensation that has you melting back into him, and his hands travel up your sides to cup your breasts, pulling at the peaks. 

Your ass grinds in his lap, the thick, stiff line of his cock trapped between your bodies, and when you arch your back and lean forward in a silent invitation, he reaches down to line himself up. Easing yourself back down, the stretch is delicious but so tight it’s almost unbearable. 

“Goddamn,” he groans over your breathless whine. 

Wrapping your smaller hands around his thick wrists for purchase, you pull at your bottom lip with your teeth as you sink all the way down to the base, and when he’s fully seated inside you, he bands his arms just under your breasts in a tight hold, keeping you in place. You can feel how hard he’s breathing between your shoulder blades, his beard rubbing against your skin, and squirming in his lap with a soft sound, you start to roll your hips. 

He’s so deep this way, so much deeper than he’s been in weeks, and taking a moment to get used to it with a couple of slick strokes down, you chase the thick, filling stretch of his cock. Leaning forward, you brace your hands on his knees, and the deep groan you hear from behind you makes you wetter; your body physically reacting to his wordless praise. 

“You feel so fucking good, honey. So good.”

His hands traverse your back—one splayed wide to drag heavily down your spine, the other curled around your hip to guide your movements–and when you bend forward as much as your stomach allows, his hand drops to your ass, spreading you from behind. 

“I wish you could see how wet my cock is. I want you to see how you’re soakin’ it.”

“I can feel it,” you moan, your hips working faster. 

You can: every down stroke is smooth and audible, the tight walls of your cunt stretching around him to take him perfect and fluid every single time, and when you start to pull him deeper, he sits forward with a cinch, pulling you back towards his body. The solid, warm wall of his chest cages you in, his arm looping around your hip so his hand can reach your clit, and when he finds it, everything spreads warm and thick from your center outwards, your head tipping back to rest against his shoulder. 

“There’s my girl,” he smiles when your body drapes pliant and loose against his, your hips chasing the pressure of his fingers. Forward into his touch and backwards onto his cock, you can hear him breathing heavy and low into your ear and your hands find his forearms to hold on tight, your nails digging into the thick muscles as you work yourself faster. 

He rubs your clit in quicker, more precise circles, just right with the firm slip of two calloused fingers, and your thighs tighten in their tremble, your release a bright, shining edge that beckons. 

When it happens, it breaks you – clamping tight around him as you’re suspended in a state of strained rapture, his hand comes up to cradle the base of your throat in a possessive hold while his other hand keeps working, and a second wave takes you by surprise, washing over your skin as you cry out. You can feel the wetness that soaks his fingers when he reaches down to feel where you’re stretched around him, letting out a groan against your skin. 

His hand smears damply across your hip as he lifts you from his lap, slipping out as he guides you on to your hands and knees, and loose and pliant, you let him position you anyway he wants. 

“Just a little more, honey. Just a little longer,” he coaxes. 

Resting your cheek on the floor, you arch your back to put yourself on display for him as you catch your breath, but it’s stolen just as quickly when he gives you a rough, open mouthed kiss to your cunt. He eats you like a man starved, the wet muscle of his tongue flattening against you as he keeps you open with his hands splayed on your ass, and a deep rumbled groan is felt against the inside of your thighs when you reach back to tug on his hair. 

His tongue dips deep inside you for a taste, and just when he pulls back, he goes in for more, like he’s changed his mind because he can’t get enough. Harder this time, more forceful, the action pushing your hips forward, and when you cry out, he’s dragging himself back, pulling away to position himself. 

The heat of his body radiates along the back of your thighs, the thick tip of his cock notched against the slick dip of your entrance only for the barest of moments before he pushes himself in with a stroke of his hips, and you hear a hiss behind you, one you almost don’t catch over the low moan that spills out of your mouth.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, his hips fitting neatly along your ass. He slides out and then back in, giving you time to adjust to his size. “I want – Christ – I want…can you take it harder for me?”

“Yes. God yes. Please.”

He answers with a rougher slide in, an audible muted pound of his hips against your skin. “You tell me if it’s too much, honey, okay?”

After turning your head and nodding so he can see you, he gives you another rough, smooth stroke in and then another one, each one filling you until the air feels like it’s being pushed from your lungs, and then he picks up his pace, letting out a low, heavy breath for every thrust. It sounds obscene: his rumbled, low groans and grunts, but you can barely focus on it for how sensitive you are to his thickness. Everything tighter, the fit is a snug, slick slide in every time, and you squeeze around him, earning you another hiss of appreciation. 

“This pussy is gonna kill me,” he groans and then holds nothing back: his hips snapping against you with his hand resting flat on your tailbone, every jolt rocking your body forward. 

Exactly what you asked for and what you’ve been missing, you let him know. 

“It feels…it feels so good. God I’ve missed this.”

“Yea?” The word is a breathless growl, and you clench down on him again. “What about this? Did you miss this too?”

His hands wrapping around the inside of your elbows, he tugs you back and up until your back is arched with your ass in his lap and then he’s pounding into you. 

“Joel!” 

Faster and harder, his hips work ceaselessly behind you for a dozen strokes and when he comes, his fingers dig tight into your skin, your arms aching as he holds you in place to take every last drop. Panting behind you, his strokes slow into a rhythmic grind and sliding out, he eases you gently down onto the floor where you slump, your cheek resting on the fold of your arms.

Dazed and loose, with a content smile on your lips, you lay down on your side and he joins you, dropping to the floor. His arm slung over his eyes, you watch his pulse pound in his neck as he tries to catch his breath. 

“So…was that also a Christmas present, or….?” you tease, the question coming out slow and saturated with contentment, and he laughs, a breathless thing that’s carefree and deep. 

“Sure,” he answers, rolling onto his side. “Merry Christmas.”

The light of the flames dancing across your bare body, shadows slide over his tanned skin and the bluntness of his reply makes you laugh. 

The two of you look at each other for a moment, his hand coming up to brush away an errant lock of hair from your temple. His hand glides down the length of your torso, coming to rest on the swell of your stomach and leaning in, his mouth meets yours.  

Still smiling, you cup his cheek and with a slick slide leaking between your thighs, pull him closer to deepen the kiss.

[alicentflorent]

I have had to unfollow so many supposed Alicent fans because of their support for the bastardisation of her character. I didn't mind that they were Rhaenicent shippers but the way they're jumping through hoops to justify Alicent choosing Rhaenyra over her own family is making me want to pull my hair out!

What do they like about Alicent exactly? That she's a pathetic hypocrite who will happily side with the woman who slaughtered her grandson? Don't give me the whole "but Nyra didn't know!" bs. Did she punish Daemon? Did she show any remorse? Did she apologise for what happened? No, instead she demands Alicent accept the deaths of her sons to avenge Luke.

The fact of the matter is show!Alicent doesn't exist for Alicent/Team Green/HotD fans, she exists only for Rhaenicents/Rhaenyra stans who want to see everyone fall at the Dragon Queen's feet in worship of her.

You're absolutely right, she only exists for Rhaenicent and not even in a good way because Rhaenyra (understandably) looks down on her and Alicent's characterisation has to be thrown out and she has to make herself worthy of Rhaenyra by going against herself and what she fought for and they dress it up as her finally "doing something for herself" (which is what giving in to some kind of degradation kink?)

Realistically Alicent should have gone feral the moment Rhaenyra said "a son for a son" those were the words daemon used when instructing two assassins to kill one of the Hightower boys. Those are the words Heleana heard before being forced to point to her son who was then beheaded.

In the books Alicent says something like "how many must die for your thirst for vengeance?" why couldn't the show give her this line? why is Rhaenyra the only one allowed to want revenge? why is she allowed to call out alicent/the greens actions but Alicent isn't allowed to be angry and call out Rhaenyra/the blacks? Why is she going to Rhaenyra and debasing herself by confessing her sins and asking Rhaenyra to come with her? Her priority is helaena so why is she making a deal that isn't well thought out that will kill the father of Helaena's child and then going as far as to invite Rhaenyra knowing that Helaena's son was killed in Rhaenyra's name and Rhaenyra never apologised for it? She isn't liberating herself, she's betraying herself before becoming the queen in chains along with Helaena. As much as they defend it alicent choosing Helaena, this plan does not help Helaena.

Mind you, I've also had to unfollow or block certain "team green" stans who fell for the anti alicent agenda. Stans who will write meta's on how Alicent's sons have been done dirty by the writers while also hating on alicent for being so evil and horrible to her sons. Alicent has been rage bait for both sides of the fandom ever since 2x01, she has been humiliated sexually and politically for daring to choose the wrong side. I hate how she's been written but I can acknowledge that this is a clear attempt by the writers to punish alicent and reduce her to her relationship with Rhaenyra. I can also acknowledge that the most of team green have been treated similarly by the writers. In season one they made it clear that while she wasn't a good mother, she loved her kids fiercely and protected them and what have given her life for them. in season two we are constantly being hit over the head with the alicent is a hypocrite and a bad mother narrative and in almost every episode there is a scene of Alicent's bad mothering paralleling Rhae Rhee's good, loving mothering.

[floralcyanidee]

ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴘs, ᴍʏ ʟɪᴘs, ᴀᴘᴏᴄᴀʟʏᴘsᴇ - ᴄɪʟʟɪᴀɴ ᴍᴜʀᴘʜʏ

Young!Cillian Murphy x AFAB!Reader (NSFW)

A night over at your best friend, Cillian's, leads to something more than friendship but something less than romance. Will you ever tell him how you feel, or will you always just be friends with benefits?

warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, cock warming, friends with benefits, friends to lovers, dirty talk, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, mentions of choking, love confessions

word count: 4409

author’s note: I'm shadowbanned on my main account everyone please clap (not for nsfw, I was flagged for spam yay) so I'll be posting on this shiny new blog, ao3, and wattpad for the time being. (those are both linked on my masterpost) hopefully I'll be unbanned soon because I've had my main tumblr for a decade and it has 2.5k followers on it and I'll fr cry my eyes out if I can't get unbanned!!! anyway please enjoy this!! I wrote a good chunk of this while at work this week. the horny really unleashes in the second part haha. please leave feedback if you enjoy! <3

PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG. BUT ALSO, DO NOT UNFOLLOW MY MAIN BLOG!

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Cillian’s lips hover over yours, and you can feel his warm breath hitting your face. His eyelashes almost touch your cheeks, and his nose is beside yours, barely brushing against it. 

“I want you so bad,” Cillian whispers, his hands finding your hips.

You have been friends since the 90s when Cillian first arrived in Hollywood, stumbling upon you at a local bar where you worked. Ever since, you’ve both been the best of friends. But tonight, that’s being challenged. The lights in Cillian’s place are dimmed, candles are lit, and wine is flowing through the two of you. Having a bit to drink in a comfortable setting isn’t out of the norm, but for some reason, tensions were high tonight. You could almost cut it with a knife. Everything about him is more mesmerizing tonight- his eyes, his freckles, the way he smiles. You needed him, and apparently, he needed you too. 

“Then have me,” you mutter against Cillian’s lips.

He chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head slightly, “I don’t want to ruin us.”

“You won’t,” you look down at his lips- they’re so close to yours that you can feel them move whenever he speaks.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” you breathe, grabbing hold of Cillian’s face as he finally puts his mouth on yours.

The kiss immediately becomes hungry, your teeth nearly clashing together as Cillian slips his tongue around yours. He’s gripping your hips fiercely, and his sideburns press pleasantly into your palms as you hold his head steady. Cillian pulls you onto his lap from your sitting position on the couch next to him, seating you firmly on his thighs. Your fingers find his hair, tugging it slightly as a small whimper vibrates in Cillian’s throat. The sound spurs you on, and you take over the kiss, dominating his tongue with yours. You explore his mouth and suck on his tongue harshly, pulling away from the embrace to catch your breath.

“Fuck,” Cillian curses, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re good at this.”

You scoff, putting both your hands on his cheeks as you trace your thumb along his sharp cheekbones, “And to think you would’ve never known.”

“Not necessarily,” Cillian looks you in the eyes, “I would’ve gotten you one way or another.”

“Then why have you waited so long, then? Hmm?” you ask.

“I value our friendship,” Cillian admits.

“I do, too, Cill. But god, if I had known you were so good at kissing, I would’ve done it ages ago,” you smirk, running your finger across his bottom lip.

His eyes follow your movements before they flick up to yours, darkening, “I’m not just good at that.”

His words shoot straight to your lower belly, warmth spreading through you, “Is that right?”

“Mhmm,” Cillian pulls you closer to his chest, your core settling right on his.

“Show me.”

Cillian attacks your lips again, this time biting down on your lower lip and rolling it between his teeth. You watch his face as he does it, his icy eyes becoming a darker shade of blue. His hand moves from your hip to your hair, his fingers sliding through your locks before they tighten, pulling your head backward to expose your neck. Cillian leaves hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck, licking a stripe up the side before he bites at the skin, leaving a small bruise to form below your jaw. You squirm slightly at the feeling of his teeth pressing into your skin, dangerously close to breaking its surface. Cillian then kisses your collarbones, stopping when he reaches the neck of your shirt, well, his shirt. You always took from his wardrobe, whether it was a beanie, t-shirt, or hoodie that he forgot he had. He slides his hand from your hip to underneath the shirt, pressing his palm to your feverish skin and pushing it up slowly until he reaches your breast. 

“No bra?” Cillian asks, surprised.

“I never wear a bra when I’m over here,” you admit, “I’m surprised you’ve never noticed.”

“I’m glad I never noticed, or else I’d be underneath your shirt constantly,” Cillian pulls his hand from your hair to move it under the shirt along with the other.

“Doesn’t sound too bad to me,” you giggle, but it’s cut off by a quiet moan when Cillian grasps your breasts.

Cillian brushes his thumbs over your nipples, circling the buds as they harden under his touch. You hum, letting your head fall back at the sensation. Cillian pushes the shirt up and over your chest, and you help him pull it all the way off, tossing it somewhere in the living room. Immediately, Cillian latches onto one of your nipples, toying with the other one with his fingers. Electricity shoots to your still-clothed core, and you know that Cillian can feel you beginning to throb through your thin shorts. His playing with your breasts could get you off alone; his touch is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s sometimes sensual and soft and rough and firm when needed. Cillian grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud, pulling it toward him as you let out a yelp. You involuntarily bare down on his lap and feel him growing harder underneath you. He lands a slap to your breast, and you gasp, hands going to grip his biceps to ground yourself. 

“I can feel you getting excited,” Cillian teases, raising his hips a little to let all your weight sit on him momentarily.

“What are you gonna do about it, then?” you stifle a moan at his bulge pressing into your clit harshly.

Cillian pushes you off his lap and onto the couch, where he spreads your legs and yanks your shorts down your thighs, discarding them wherever the shirt also previously went. He pulls your calves onto his shoulders, laying on his chest between your thighs. His breath hits your dampened underwear, sending goosebumps across your skin. You bite your lip as Cillian plays with the edges of your underwear right against where you need him most. He toys with the fabric, letting his fingers barely touch you underneath. 

“I’ve waited so long for this,” Cillian confesses, his intense eyes flickering up to your face.

You feel your cheeks burn, “Me too.”

Cillian smiles his typical beautiful smile, teeth and all, as he pulls your underwear down your legs painfully slow, “I’ve always imagined how wet you’d get just from me teasing you.”

You bite back a whimper as he removes your underwear from your legs, letting them fall to the floor. 

“You’d get soaked from me playing with your pussy, rubbing your clit slowly, and eating you out until you cry,” Cillian lets his filthy words fall from his lips as you shiver from them, wanting to close your legs subconsciously.

But they were perched on Cillian’s shoulders, and he was about to go in for the kill. He kneads your thigh before pushing it to the side, letting it drape off the edge of the couch and opening you up further to him. Cillian’s fingers brush against your hardening clit like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, making you tremble as you grunt from the sensual feeling.

“Please,” you sigh, your hips jerking up when Cillian pulls his hand away.

“Please, what?”

“Touch me, Cill. God, I need you to touch me.”

Cillian strokes your entrance with his index finger, gathering your wetness before dragging it up to your clit. He circles the bundle of nerves slowly, making you whine above him. 

“So wet already,” Cillian moans, “You’re so beautiful.”

You throw your head back against the arm of the couch when Cillian finally replaces his finger with the tip of his tongue, going around and around the sensitive bud, never coming directly in contact with it. He changes his mind about that and starts to lap at your clit, flicking his tongue over it as his fingers travel back to your now-dripping entrance. Cillian hums in satisfaction at the feeling of your arousal seeping out of you at his expense. He flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe up your slit before swirling his tongue around your clit, his tongue still flat and giving your entire bundle of nerves attention. Cillian probes you with a single finger, pushing it in as you moan his name. He pumps it in and out of you, curling it against your g spot with every thrust. He adds a second finger, and the sound of your wetness grows louder, mixing with your breathy moans and Cillian’s pants. 

“Say my name again,” Cillian bites his lip, watching as his soaked fingers move in and out of you.

“Cillian,” you whine, moving your hips along with his fingers.

“That’s right, fuck yourself on my fingers, darling,” he says, adding a third finger in you.

To say you‘re a mess is an understatement. You need Cillian inside you, as your walls are clenching around his fingers with desperation. You grab his shirt, “Fuck me, please.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Cillian smirks, lifting his shirt off his lean body before standing up to tug his pants and underwear down and off his legs. 

Cillian teases your clit with his leaking head before lining himself up with you. He looks at you with an unsure expression, and you nod in response to the unspoken question. He slowly pushes himself into you, your warmth already fluttering around him. Cillian guides himself all the way to his hilt, letting out a throaty groan when he feels his entire length surrounded by your velvety walls. His hands run up and down your abdomen, stopping when he palms over your breasts. They’re still sensitive from the previous activity and your growing arousal, causing you to wriggle when Cillian’s fingers deftly pinch at both your nipples as he slowly pulls himself almost out of you entirely before slamming back into you. You cry out, your hands flying to where his back meets his shoulders, nails digging softly into his flesh. Cillian moans when you clench harshly around him when he tugs at your nipple particularly hard. 

“You like these pretty titties to be played with, huh?” Cillian runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he watches your face twist in pleasure when he pulls at the sensitive skin.

You nod, but he lets go of your breasts, running his hands over your body before his hand snakes between the two of you, rubbing tight circles on your clit. You let out a throaty moan, and Cillian curses under his breath as his hips snap against yours at a steady rhythm. 

“Fuuuuck,” you drawl, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your body heaves into the couch from the velocity of Cillian’s perfect cock slamming into you without mercy, “You feel so good inside of me.”

You push Cillian up and off you, shoving him onto the couch behind him. You climb on his lap, throwing your legs over his thighs as you line him back up with your aching cunt. Feeling him stretch you out completely while at a different angle makes you moan uncontrollably as you set a pace, riding Cillian as if your life depended on it. Your ass slaps his hips as he guides them up and down, thrusting into you dead-on. Cillian’s tip hits your cervix flawlessly, and you feel that tightness in your belly. 

“Cum inside me, Cillian,” you swivel your hips, “Fill me up and make me yours.”

“Gonna cum around my cock first?” Cillian’s lips are swollen from incessantly biting as he watches you fuck yourself on him.

You decide you’ll milk him for all he’s got and lean down to land a bruising kiss on his lips. Both of you pant into each other’s mouths as you near your peak, reaching underneath you to flick your clit. Cillian grips your ass as you feel yourself unravel, your orgasm ripping through you. Your walls cave in on CIllian’s length, causing him to reach his own orgasm before he’s ready. He squirms underneath you as you continue to bounce on his cock, coaxing every drop of cum out of him. 

“Fuck,” Cillian exhales as he runs a hand through his sweaty hair, looking just as fucked out as you.

You lay down on his chest, him still inside you. He doesn’t bother moving either; the feeling of you still cloaked around him made him dizzy. Cillian is still trying to wrap his head around how this is real. He also is trying to figure out where to go from here. He’s terrified of telling you his true feelings for you, fearing you won’t want to be friends anymore. Obviously, tonight the dynamic has changed from just friendship between the two of you. 

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for that,” you trace shapes into Cillian’s bare chest, peering up at him when he doesn’t answer. 

He appears deep in thought.

“Everything okay?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows at the man underneath you.

Cillian nods, his hand finding your hair before stroking it softly, “Just thinking.”

“About?” you rest your chest on his collarbone.

“How much I’d like to do this again,” Cillian says, and you chuckle.

“That can be arranged,” you leave a kiss on his neck, his eyes meeting yours through his eyelashes.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship, though,” Cillian says worriedly.

“You haven’t ruined anything. And I’ve had just as much to do with this as you,” you say, putting your finger under Cillian’s chin to look at him directly, “You’re still my best friend.”

“And you’re fine with whatever this is?”

“It’s the best of both worlds,” you shrug with a smile. 

Cillian moves to sit up against the couch's armrest still sheathed inside you. And as you start yet another make out session and begin to rock your hips with your walls still hugging his cock, you try not to think. The idea that you must hide your feelings for Cillian even more is hard to wrap your mind around.

But little did you know, he was having the same problem. He tries not to think about it as he thrusts into you sloppily, letting you ride him as you please. 

—

“Jesus, shit!”

“God, you’re so fucking drenched. All of this for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, letting out a pornographic moan as one of Cillian’s hands holds your swollen cunt open while the other rubs at it vigorously.

“Just like that-” Cillian moans at the sounds you’re letting out, “Need you to cum on my face, pretty thing.”

You cry out, rocking your hips against Cillian’s merciless hand as it flies across your pussy with no sign of stopping. He pokes out his middle finger to catch your clit with every swipe of his hand. Your orgasm explodes in your stomach, your core gushing cum as Cillian hurries to dip his face down. He latches his mouth onto your cunt, flicking his tongue over your bundle of nerves, causing you to squirt again. 

“Fuuuck,” you squeal, your hands gripping Cillian’s hair like a vice.

Cillian can’t get enough. He’s not gonna lie, he thinks he’s absolutely obsessed with making you squirt. He could do it all night and still get off at the sight. Cillian laps at your pussy, spreading his tongue around your folds, stimulating the sensitive area further.

“Cill, I’m gonna cum again,” you warn, but Cillian just keeps his eyes closed as he sneaks two fingers inside you.

His fingertips brush against your g spot and send you over the edge a third time, and Cillian’s nipping at your clit causes you to gush again. You were slightly embarrassed but incredibly turned on by it. And you know Cillian is relishing in it, literally and figuratively. He pulls away from you, a little reluctantly, and wipes his mouth and face with the back of his arm. You grab his face and pull him into you as he collapses on your naked, heaving chest. You stare at Cillian, the light from the side table’s lamp shining into his eyes just right. They’re returning to an arctic blue as his heart rate calms, his pupils going back to normal size. Cillian stares back at you, studying your features just as you are his. Freckles sprinkle Cillian’s cheeks and nose, dotting along his forehead and chin as well. His lips are red and swollen, and he’s sporting a lopsided smile as he looks at you. 

“You’re perfect,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair, “Literally everything you do, say, and how you look is just flawless. Are you sure you aren’t an angel?” you joke.

A smile spreads upon Cillian’s face as his cheeks tinge pink, the warmth traveling to his ears, “I’m not perfect by any means, and no, I’m not an angel,” he says, his accent thick and raspy from the previous exertion. 

“Mmm, I’m not sure about that,” you say as CIllian softly kisses your neck.

God, I love you, you want to say. Because you do; you love him. You always have, but sharing such intimate moments with Cillian has just strengthened the feeling you already had. You’re honestly exhausted but still blissed out from Cillian going absolutely feral on you. You have never squirted before, and if you could, you’d let him make you squirt all night. You’d watch as your arousal covers his pretty face, delighting him much like it did earlier. Cillian looked like a kid in a candy store as you gushed for him. 

“I’ve never squirted before, so,” you mutter, covering your face with your hands, “Yeah, I’d consider that angelic.”

“Really?” Cillian asks incredulously, “Never? Not even by yourself?”

“Especially not by myself,” you chuckle, uncovering your face to look at Cillian, “You’re better than any vibrator or dildo I own.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Cillian bites your jaw playfully before reaching down and grabbing the duvet, covering the both of you with it.

He rolls off you, much to your dismay. But he immediately pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly with his arms as if you’ll disappear. Cillian slides a leg between yours, his knee pressed against you softly. He rubs his nose against your ear, “Still wet, pretty?”

“Shut up,” you mutter shyly, burying your face in his arms.

“Only if you make me,” Cillian teases you, nipping at your earlobe.

You groan, “Too tired,” you feel Cillian’s hand travel down your navel to gauge how wet you still are, “I don’t think I can move.”

“Who said you had to move?” Cillian asks, pulling your thigh up until your leg is draped over his hip, spreading you open for perfect access.

Before you can ask him to touch you, Cillian lines his length up with your still-needy cunt. You’re surprised you had any remainder of horniness left in you. But there’s something about Cillian that naturally turns you on. You’ve noticed it’s gotten more intense now that he’s your sexual partner. It’s like you can’t get enough of him, and he can’t get enough of you, either. Cillian nudges his tip into you before letting it glide in without a hitch. The way you’re laying makes the angle at which he’s inside of you feel irresistible. You let Cillian play with your still-sensitive clit as his hips snap into your ass. His hot, heavy breath is in your ear as he fucks you slowly. You toss your arm behind you, grabbing the back of Cillian’s neck for leverage as you turn your head around. His lips meet yours hungrily, and he swallows your guttural moans as you fuck yourself on his cock. Cillian’s other hand snakes from underneath you, his fingers wrapping around your throat. He doesn’t press them into your skin but lets them rest there, almost possessively. 

You’ve been exploring each other’s bodies ever since the first night you had sex- trying different angles and positions. But you told Cillian that you didn’t want anything rough. That was reserved for a romantic relationship. Cillian felt a twinge of hurt in his chest when you said that, as if you had meant you weren’t planning on a romantic relationship with him specifically. But he understood and respected your boundaries despite his weird sadness about not being able to do certain things with you. Cillian thought it odd because you were not his, so he had no right to hurt you consensually or mark you as his. So, he shouldn’t be so upset about it. Yet he is because he wants you to trust him with everything you have, and he wants to take care of you after the roughness. Cillian wants you to be taken care of. But he knows his limits and that he can’t break the rules of the friends-with-benefits situation. So Cillian doesn’t choke you during sex, or slap you, or kiss you outside the bedroom- especially in public. He bites his tongue every time you do something that melts his heart. He refrains from saying those three little words every day. Cillian has no idea how much you wished he would break the rules just once or how you wished he’d say he loves you. 

Something comes over you, though. You reach a hand up and cover Cillian’s that is on your neck and press his fingers into the sides of your throat. You sigh contently as your head becomes cloudy from the lack of blood flow to your head. Cillian stops rubbing your clit and takes your hand from over his, slipping his fingers between yours and pinning it in front of you.

You whimper in detest, and Cillian nips at the skin behind your ear, “Naughty thing. Don’t break your own rules, sweetheart.”

You sigh in defeat, but before you can pout, a moan rips through your chest. Cillian pushed your clave up into your thigh, thus making it easier for him to ram his cock against your cervix in a way that sends stars floating across your vision. Your hand squeezes his as you feel your release creeping up.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whisper, watching as Cillian’s length moves in and out of you quickly.

It was erotic yet romantic, him being so close to you and inside you. You and Cillian are now one, but you wish things were different. 

“Good,” Cillian kisses the back of your neck, his nose drawing circles in your skin delicately.

You breathe deeply, feeling your stomach clench. You cry out Cillian’s name as you unravel, his fingers pressing to your clit. Your body trembles and shakes as he continues his assault on the bundle of nerves, still chasing after his own high as he keeps thrusting into you. Your back arches, toes curling as another wave of pleasure hits you. 

“You’re doing so good, angel,” Cillian praises in your ear, “Taking my cock so well. I’m almost there, just hold on.”

The feeling of Cillian exploding inside you sends you over the edge for the third and final time. Stars erupt behind your eyelids, your body convulsing from pleasure. Your pussy clenches around him as he rides out his orgasm, panting in your ear. He almost doesn’t hear you say it. Almost.

“Fuck, I love you,” you whine quietly.

You gasp, immediately realizing what’s slipped from your mouth in a shroud of cloudy pleasure. But you hide your gasp as you catch your breath, inhaling and exhaling sharply. You pray to whatever is out there that Cillian didn’t hear you proclaim your feelings in a vulnerable moment.

Cillian grunts as he pulls out of you, letting your leg go limp and relax back on the bed. He keeps his hand entangled with yours. But you pull your grasp out of his, turning around and facing him. You hurriedly bury your face in his chest so you can’t look at him and see how he’s possibly reacting to your words. Cillian wordlessly wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer to him. You fight the urge to cry at the silence of the dimly lit room as Cillian tugs the duvet over your sweaty, naked bodies. You try and steady your breath and keep your heart from racing.

“Can you say it again?” Cillian finally asks after several minutes of dead silence.

You lift your head from his chest, looking at him confused, “Say what?”

Cillian looks at you seriously before lifting his hand to touch your face gingerly, “What you said a moment ago.”

“You didn’t hear that, did y-”

“I did. But I want you to say again.”

Tears brim your eyes as you feel heaviness in your chest- will he make fun of you? Did you just ruin everything?

You let out a choked sob, hiding your face in his neck, “I love you. I fucking love you. There, I said it,” you slam your fist against his chest. “Feel free to hate me, but it’s true.”

“I could never hate you, gorgeous,” Cillian pulls away from you, his hands grabbing your cheeks so you’re looking directly at him.

His eyelashes flutter against your cheekbones, much like they did the first time you kissed him weeks ago. You blink away your tears, but Cillian wipes them away with his thumbs.

“I love you too,” Cillian confesses, “I love you so much. You know that?”

Your lips tremble as you nod, but Cillian presses his forehead against yours, and you try to ground yourself. He loves you. Cillian loves you back. Cillian kisses your lips gently as if he’d break you. You grasp his hair, kissing him back passionately.  

“I love you,” you say, pulling away from his lips and kissing his eyelids instead.

“I love everything about you,” you brush your lips across his cheeks, then kiss his nose, “Your angel kisses. Your beautiful eyes. Everything about you. I wasn’t lying when I said you’re perfect.”

Cillian laughs, and you melt at his smile.

“You,” Cillian says, “Are everything to me. Everything that brings me joy, everything that makes me happy.”

You wrap your arms around Cillian’s neck, pulling him close to you as you tuck your face into his neck.

“Never let go,” Cillian says, his arms snaking around your waist and holding you close.

“I won’t,” you say, a heaviness lifting from your chest at last, “I never will.”

taglist:

@baizzhu @aporiasposts @hjmalmed @queenshelby @amanda08319 @naty-1001 @orijanko @raineeace @nela-cutie @cutexlr @flwrs4aust @langdons-slut @shynovelist

[suuuupernovaaa]

Taxi Cab

Hobie Brown x f!Reader

She would never hurt anyone. He would hurt anyone for her.

Before Hobie, nothing very eventful ever happened in my life. I grew up in a happy home, went to a good school, and decided to become an art teacher. I got good grades, I made life long friendships with people similar to me, and I kept my head down and minded my business.

Though it's been nearly half a year since he came rocketing into my life, I still can't put my finger what exactly drew Hobie to me. We don't have a lot in common. Where I am passive, Hobie is active and fierce. Where I am lenient, Hobie is harsh. Until Hobie, I had never listened to punk music, considered anarchy, or pierced a single thing on my body.

Well, I still haven't done the last one. Besides my ears. Needles are too much for me. Sometimes I get nervous that the spikes on Hobie's wardrobe are going to stick me.

Hobie is a force. He's dangerous, he's passionate, he's larger than life. Being near Hobie is addictive. He has a gravity around him that draws people in, but it tends to spit them out at much the same rate.

For some reason, I've been able to hang on. Sometimes it feels like clinging for dear life, until he reminds me how much he cares.

Even though he can do that in odd ways.

Like tonight.

Ever since I met Hobie, trouble seems to follow me around. I've been mugged twice, had my tires slashed, and even had to move because someone broke into my apartment and trashed the place.

My parents are becoming increasingly alarmed, only satisfied in the fact that Spider-Punk always seems to be nearby. They don't necessarily approve of Spider-Punk (I mean, most don't), but they do at least appreciate that he seems to be looking out for me.

Which is so weird! Hobie can't figure it out either, but he says Spider-Punk is a narcissistic asshole who only saves people to get attention for himself.

He might just be mad that I said I thought Spider-Punk seemed like he'd be cute, under the mask.

I was hoping my luck had turned around and I wouldn't need to run into Spider-Punk again for a while, but I guess that was just silly optimism. On my way to Hobie's with two large bags of groceries in hand, I'm stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk when a taxi cab crashes directly into a fire hydrant.

The fire hydrant lets loose a typhoon of water in my direction, and I scramble to the right to get out of the water, but it's too late. I'm soaked.

"Oi!" I hear the unmistakable sound of Hobie yelling. He was heading my direction after I told him the bags were getting heavy, and arrived just in time to witness the crash. He wrenches open the door of the car and pulls out the taxi driver. He seems unharmed, a little shaken up, with heavy bags under his eyes and a wobble in his step.

Drunk or high.

"You could've killed someone!" Hobie is shouting, looking over at me and then back at the driver. "I ought to kick your fucking arse." He pushes the man against the side of his cab as the water continues to spray. I drop the groceries, mostly ruined now, and approach Hobie.

The man is muttering something under his breath, and as I reach them, I can smell the liquor coming through his pores.

I grab Hobie's arm. "I'm okay. Come on."

"No, I saw it, he nearly killed you, Y/N. Just a few feet over, you'd be gone. Then I'd have to fuckin' kill him!" Hobie slams him against his car one more time, and I pull on his arm harder.

"But he didn't. The cops are on their way. Let's go. I need help carrying the groceries, and it's too cold for me to be all wet."

Hobie looks at me finally, really looks at me, and then with one more burning glance at the inebriated taxi driver, gruffly releases his collar and turns to me.

Effortlessly, he scoops me up into his arms, bridal-style, and I gasp. He strides with ease over to our drowned groceries, and bends down, picking them up in his hands.

"Jesus, have you been working out?" I ask.

His face is too tense for a smile, but the corners of his mouth twitch. Despite my protests, he carries me into his building and up three flights of stairs, only setting me down once we are safe inside the walls of his apartment.

Without me asking, he goes into his room and brings out a pair of leggings I've left here before, and one of his t-shirts. I change in the bathroom, drying my hair as best I can with a towel, before going back to the kitchen to see what can be salvaged of the groceries.

"I think I can still do something with this! The bread is gone but, homemade bread crumbs aren't like, necessary. They're just fancy." I turn to see Hobie leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, still scowling. "Uh, or I can go to the store, if the homemade bread crumbs were like, important."

I let out a yelp of surprise when Hobie pushes himself off the counter and strides towards me, grabbing me by the shoulders and bringing me to him for a rough, passionate kiss.

In moments, I meld into him, wrapping my arms around his waist as his fingers find their way into my hair, and his tongue enters my mouth.

This kiss feels different. Urgent, feverish, desperate. He holds me tightly, pressing me so close to him it feels like he wants us to be one person, like he would climb right into my skin.

I pull away for just a moment, gasping for breath. "Are you okay?" I say on an exhale.

Hobie stares down at me intensely, his hands still in my hair, his eyes wild and the corners of his mouth turned downward.

"I would do anything to keep you safe," he says flatly. "There's no limit to what I'd do."

I bring my hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks, nodding. "I know, Hobie."

"I would have killed that man if you hadn't stopped me."

I know he's exaggerating to make a point, but a chill runs up my spine a the way he says it so calmly, with no hint of irony. I remember his chest heaving, the wild look in his eyes as he held that drunk man up against his own car.

He looked out for blood.

"I'm okay, Hobie. So are you."

"Move in with me. You hate that new place. Stay here."

We've only known each other six months. We're barely adults. I make no money as a new teacher and I honestly haven't figured out how Hobie seems to make so much money off the gigs he plays. It's too soon to move in together. It's not smart.

But I love him. And he loves me. We haven't said it yet, but I don't know that we need to. I can see it in his eyes, feel it while he holds me, taste it on his lips.

He loves me.

"Okay."

"Today. Like, we can get your stuff later, but don't sleep there anymore. Stay with me."

I nod and lean forward, pressing my forehead to his chest. His hands finally leave my hair, and wrap tightly around my shoulders. I listen to his heartbeat - rapid at first, but as we stand there, silently clinging to each other, it begins to slow down.

He's pressing soft kisses to the top of my head, humming quietly, and I've never felt more in love.

I've never felt more cared for, more loved in return, more safe.

Six months or sixty years. I don't think it matters.

[eunsuri]

Eternity

Pairing: Solas x Lavellan

Summary: In the final battle with the false gods, Solas must make an impossible choice.

Word Count: 2,443

Warnings: ANGST. Followed by some real sweetness to heal our Solavellan pain.

A/N: Hey everyone! It's been a hot minute since I've posted or even done any writing, but all the Veilguard hype and replaying the Dragon Age games has inspired my poor Solavellan heart. Hope you enjoy it and let me know your thoughts! Also posted on AO3!

“Solas!”

It had all happened so quickly.

The world seemed like a fractured dream—shadows and light bleeding together, the edges of reality blurring into something unrecognisable. Hues of blue, purple, and red painted the sky. The sounds of battle—screams, the clash of steel, the roar of ancient magic and blighted gods—melted into a single, indistinct hum, as if the world itself had begun to unravel.

Solas’ Dread Wolf form was quickly fading, returning to his battered Elven body. Pain throbbed in his every limb, a dull, relentless ache that clouded his thoughts and blurred his senses. 

He tried to focus, to grasp onto something solid, but the ground beneath his feet slipped like sand, shifting and unstable. It was Lavellan’s voice, raw with emotion, that anchored him, drawing him back from the brink of unconsciousness. His racing heart thudded in his ears, eyes searching for the source of Lavellan’s cry, as fear gripped his very being at the thought of her laying broken and defenceless in the chaos. 

Thunder continued to roll while lightning cracked through angry clouds over the twisted form of the ancient elven goddess, Ghilan'nain. The Mother of the Halla, and huntress of the People, was now a twisted abomination of decay and rage. Her shriek tore through the Veilguard ranks, a cry born of millennia of rage and betrayal, a keening wail that echoed with the fury of a goddess locked away for centuries. 

Then, through a fog of pain and confusion, Solas saw Ghilan'nain’s blazing red eyes seeking out the Dread Wolf, her corrupted form rising above the fray and ready to strike. Before he could even register the danger, before he could summon the strength to call out to Lavellan, a flash of blue crystals sped into his vision. 

It was Lavellan. The lyrium dagger clutched in her hand, armour shattered and boots worn out, the scent of muddied blood from her injured leg mingling with the air, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Yet, despite the pain and exhaustion etched into her every movement, her eyes burned with an unyielding fire, a fierce resolve to protect the one she loved.

Without a second thought, she leapt forward, her body moving of its own accord, driven by a love that eclipsed all fear. The impact was immediate, the force of the blow reverberating through her as she intercepted the strike meant for Solas, driving the lyrium dagger through Ghilan'nain’s heart. Pain lanced through Lavellan, white-hot and unforgiving, unlike anything she had ever felt before.

“No!” Anguish tore through Solas, his cry shattered the battlefield, raw and filled with terror at the sight of her figure flying across the battlefield.

He didn’t know how he had managed to gather the strength to stand once more, but in an instant, he was at her side. The battle faded into a ghostly echo as his world narrowed to the broken form in his arms. The ground beneath them was cold and unyielding, but it was the chill in her fading pulse that froze his racing heart. Her breath, once steady and strong, came now in ragged, shallow gasps, a desperate struggle against the darkness closing in.

“Vhenan…” Her voice came as a laboured, broken whisper. 

The scent of iron and death hung heavy in the air, the distant screams of the battle barely registering in Solas' mind as he frantically hovered his hands over her wounds, his bloodied fingers trembling with the urgency of his magic. But the damage was too great, the energy she had taken was meant to kill, to obliterate. Hot crimson blood seeped through the cracks in her armour, staining the cold stone beneath her. The warmth of it clung to Solas' skin, a stark contrast to the creeping numbness that threatened to consume him whole.

He found himself unable to muster a single word in response to her, the weight of his despair crushing him. He could feel the ancient magic flowing within his veins, yet every spell he cast faltered against the reality of her mortality. Each pulse of energy he sent into her only slipped through his grasp, her life ebbing away like water through his fingers, her fading breath a cruel reminder of his powerlessness.

For the first time in millenia, Solas felt truly, utterly powerless. The gravity of his failure thrust down on him, sharper than any blade, heavier than the mountains he had once shaped. He had experienced many failures, disrupted rituals, and power drunk magisters. Yet the pride and determination that would fuel him through these failures could not fill the gaping void that failing his love would leave inside him.

Since the Veil’s creation and his awakening from Uthenera, Solas had borne witness to countless lives slipping away, each loss a distant echo in the vast expanse of time. He had watched countless lives flicker and fade, each loss stoking the embers of his desperation to restore his People’s immortality. But this—this was different. 

He had convinced himself that the price he would pay was justified, a necessary sacrifice for the future he sought to reclaim. This world and its people, fleeting and fragile, would have to perish in order to restore his own, to undo the grievous mistake he had made. He had always known that losing this world would mean losing her, that her mortality was inescapable—especially with the Anchor’s relentless power surging through her veins, marking her as temporary. He had hoped that by severing their bond and leaving the Inquisition, he could sever his attachment to her as well. Yet, even as he watched over her each night in the Fade, anticipating the loss of his love, nothing could have truly prepared him for the agony of this moment.

The pain that seared through him now was unlike any he had ever known, sharp and relentless, cutting deeper than all the centuries of loss combined. He had thought himself prepared, had steeled his heart against the inevitability of her mortality, but as he looked at Lavellan, broken and bleeding before him, he realised with a shattering clarity that he could not—would not—live in a world without her. The thought of truly losing her was a wound that would never heal, a chasm of despair that would swallow him whole for eternity.

Memories, vivid and bittersweet, flooded Solas’ mind. He remembered the first time he had seen her, the feeling of her marked hand clutched in his as he guided her to close the gaping rift. He recalled the stolen moments of quiet between battles, where they had shared dreams of a life beyond the chaos once the battle with Corypheus would end, her laughter a balm to his soul. The nights she would seek him out in dreams, or sneak into his tent, where she would lay against his chest while he read books or told stories of his dreams in the Fade. The feeling of her bare skin beneath his fingertips, the softness of her lips against his, lingering like the delicate petals of a blooming flower. Their magic intertwining, flowing through them like a gentle current, binding them together in a harmony that felt as eternal as the stars.

Moments in which the crushing realisation dawned on him—that she could sway his mind to find another way, that the world he sought to restore could be returned without the destruction he once deemed necessary, that everything and everyone he had fought so hard alongside could be real, not just a dream of the past.

But now, those memories twisted like a knife in his heart, the sweetness of each moment laced with the bitter sting of loss. Without her, those moments would remain nothing but a memory that would haunt him for eternity.

“Please,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure to whom he was begging, his voice a plea to the empty skies. 

The thought of truly losing her now was unbearable, a pain he could scarcely endure. For him, she had endured unimaginable suffering—the searing torment of the mark that claimed her arm, the heartbreak when he severed their bond, and the endless nights spent in relentless pursuit of him, only to stand between him and the final, fatal blow. He could not let her die, not after all she had sacrificed for him.

Solas wracked his brain for solutions, continuing to frantically attempt to heal her and keep her conscious. His vision was blurred with the rivers of tears streaming down his skin, the fierce hand of desperation gripping itself around his throat. She was fading, her weakened life force flickering like a waning candle, its flame struggling to cling to the charred wick, desperately resisting the darkness closing in.

Then, in the depths of his despair, a single option took root—a desperate, impossible choice. There was one thing he could do, one last act that could save her. But it would cost him everything. His heart thudded against his chest heavily with the weight of the decision, the ancient power within him pulsing like a living thing, reminding him of all that he was about to lose. Immortality. His essence. The very fabric of his being.

But what was immortality without her? What was all of his power worth if it could not protect the one person who had come to mean more to him than anything in this world or the next?

His resolve solidified, born of a love so deep it defied all reason. He could not imagine a world without her—without her laughter, her touch, the warmth of her presence beside him. His pride and desire to mend his past errors would not stand in his way again. And so, with a heart full of love and a mind clear of doubt, he cast his pride into the depths of the abyss, where it would be lost to the shadows of his past, and embraced the decision he would have to make.

Solas placed his hand, now strong and steady, over her heart. His eyes glowed with an ethereal blue light that seemed to pierce the very fabric of reality, a stormy flash of magic emitting from his palms. 

He could feel it—the life force that had sustained him for centuries, ancient and vast, now flowing out of his being and into her. It was like tearing a piece of his soul away, a pain so profound it threatened to break him, but he did not falter. He would give her everything if it meant she would live. 

As the celestial light enveloped her, knitting her wounds and restoring her strength, Solas felt his own power wane. His once-immortal form grew weaker, the essence that had defined  him slipping away. But with it, the burden of centuries lifted, replaced by a calm acceptance. He had chosen this—chosen her—and in that choice, he found peace.

Lavellan gasped as warmth surged through her, revitalising her strength, but with it came the unsettling realisation of what he was doing. “Solas, stop,” she protested, her voice growing stronger even as his weakened. She attempted to push him away, her hand trembling against his chest, but he drew her closer, gently lowering his forehead to hers, the gesture silencing her pleas.

“I will not lose you, Vhenan,” he breathed, his voice heavy with resolve as his ancient power flowed into her, binding them both to a mortal life.

Though Solas would remain formidable, he willingly embraced the fragility of mortality, finding solace in the certainty that they would face the years together, no matter how fleeting they may seem. 

The engulfing light dimmed, leaving them in a hushed silence. With a newfound strength, Lavellan lifted herself upright, pausing to drink in the sight of the Dread Wolf, now a mortal man. His eyes, no longer glowing with ancient power, were filled with a quiet love and deep relief, the tension that had once gripped him now replaced by a serene acceptance of his mortality. She could see the peace in his expression, the contentment that came with knowing he had chosen this—chosen her—and this world. 

A wave of relief washed over her being, drawing her worries back into its current, and allowing the peace she had sought for a decade to finally grace her. Though it pained her to see him sacrifice such an intrinsic part of who he was, she felt a deep sense of gratitude knowing she had changed his heart away from the destruction of this world.

Solas reached forward, delicately brushing his fingers over her mended cheek. Her eyes glistened with life and unshed tears welled along her eyelashes, captivating him as they always had. She released a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding in, and lunged herself into his embrace. 

Her arm twined around his neck, clutching the fabric on his back as a quiet sob shuddered through her lungs. “Ma serannas, Ma’lath. Thank you. Thank you,” she whispered between breaths, tears trickling down his throat and soaking through his clothing.

He held her tightly against him, as though she might vanish if he loosened his grasp. The warmth of her presence, so long absent, was a salve to his aching soul. For a decade, he had watched her from afar, his dreams haunted by the memory of her touch. Now, finally enfolded in her embrace, he marvelled at the tangible reality of what he had yearned for so deeply. Each trembling breath she took, each tear that fell, was a testament to the long-suffered separation and the profound relief of being truly reunited.

“I’ve lived through many lifetimes, yet without you, it is all empty, lost,” Solas confessed, his voice a low murmur against her hair. “Now, I see a new path forward.”

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her hand gently tracing up to his face. Her voice was soft, yet firm with conviction, as though speaking the very truth of her soul. “And we will face it together,” she vowed, wiping her thumb across his cheek as her teary eyes searched his. “Var lath vir suledin.” The words trembled on her lips—ancient, yet timeless.

“Yes, Vhenan.” This time, he believed her. “Our love will endure. Always.”

Though the blighted false gods had been freed from their eternal prison, and the battle was now won, the task of rebuilding the world lay ahead. Together, they would forge a new path to save their people—one devoid of further death and destruction.

For now, they were alive, together, but irrevocably changed—two souls who had sacrificed everything for each other. 

Their love had endured, and would continue to endure for centuries to come.

[tyrantisterror]

A Dozen Or So Great Vampire Ladies

Ok, so, on a mostly unrelated post the topic of good vampire ladies came up, and @bisexualdaikaiju suggested/challenged me to do a top 10 vampire women list. As a self-professed lover of vampire women, it felt like a challenge I couldn't back down from. But it is kind of challenging, for two kind of contradictory reasons.

First, while there are MANY female vampires in fiction, most of them feel like afterthoughts, getting far less characterization than their male counterparts, who more often than not are the star villains of the show. When these supporting lady vampires do get something to do, it's generally the same role: make their human lovers sad when they rise from the dead as a monster that has to be killed, an emotional beat that is often undercut by a lot of these vampire women not getting much characterization to endear them to us before they died. Everyone wants to have the Lucy Westerna plot beat from Dracula but they don't want to do the work that Bram did to make Lucy lovable. The lady vamps who get to step out of Lucy's shadow are rare - but that just makes them all the more wonderful.

The second problem is that, since this is an obsession of mine that few seem to share (there are lots of vampire fans, but man do the boy vamps get to hog the spotlight among them), I've done a lot of scattered thinking about it and I just know I'm bound to forget at least one excellent lady vampire character that should be here. And whittling it down to ten, and trying to rank them? That's too hard! My thoughts are too mercurial to do that reliably in a way I don't forget!

So instead here's a list of, like, a dozen or so lady vampires that I think are just fucking stellar, many of which I think break the mold of what pop culture makes us expect lady vampires to be. It is not ranked - I love all these characters more or less equally, and think it's a lot more interesting to see how they take their archetype in different directions than to figure out which one is "best" of the lot.

Carmilla Karnstein

I'm going to start with the most famous literary female vampire, Mircalla Karnstein from Carmilla. I think she might be the first vampire to have an unhealthy obsession with using anagrams of her real name as aliases, though I'm sure now that I've typed that someone will find an earlier example to school me. She's also the one who popularized the idea of lady vampires being extremely sapphic, with an arguably genuine romantic affection for her female victims. She's got well-deserved clout, basically, and like Dracula has been adapted countless times and reinterpreted in some excellent ways. My favorite screen Carmilla is Ingrid Pitt's take, which captures her fierceness, passion, and tragic nature so well.

2. Amy from Fright Night

Ok, we're having one Lucy Westerna knockoff on this list, but as Lucy knockoffs go, Amy is one of the best. It actually helps that she spends 90% of her movie as a human, because we get to know and love her so much before she turns monstrous. And once she does...

It is pants-shittingly terrifying. I will never stop raving about the vampire designs in this movie - they made their "game faces" so fucking monstrous and I feel like in a better world this would be the standard ever since, especially since they still gave the vampires pathos while making them so ghastly when they've got their feeding faces on.

3. Drusilla

Buffy the Vampire Slayer had a bunch of vampire characters, and to its credit they did a decent job of making the ladies just as distinct as the gents. Harmony and Darla could both have made this list, but my favorite was always Drusilla, who was so traumatized before she became a vampire that it kind of overwhelms the demon spirit inside her. Like, bare minimum thing to make a lady vampire more interesting than 90% of other female vampires in fiction: give her at least one personality trait, preferably an interesting one, outside of being a vampire. Drusilla's fun, and she survives the entire series after dumping her boyfriend to be a single female vampire. Good for her.

4. Ruby from Scary Godmother

Ok look I am a fake Scary Godmother fan but kudos to the artist of the books for making a lady vampire who's very clearly of the nosferatu mold and is also explicitly benign and sweet. A+ vampire lady character design. I hope it doesn't awaken anything in me.

5. Nadja

What We Do in the Shadows is excellent at finding new takes on vampires in general - it even made me actually like Psychic Vampires as a concept, a feat I thought was impossible - but goddamn do I love Nadja specifically. She's got a distinct personality as vampire ladies go, being very confident and self-assured while also being a complete fucking goober (it is a comedy, after all). She's perfectly capable of being terrifying AND hilarious, often at the same time. A vampire girl failure, in the parlance of our site. I love her.

6. Lady Dimitrescu

I know that she's apparently only in a fourth of the game, but it's still pretty great that Resident Evil 8 decided its mascot villain - its equivalent of the Tyrant, G, Nemesis, etc. - would be the hottest woman I've ever seen a milf an 8 foot tall lady vampire. She's not dainty and willowy like most lady vamps in fiction - not an ambush hunter - but rather HUGE and capable of tossing a human around like a rag doll. She's a physical powerhouse and she looks fine feminine while doing it. Despite being an unabashed blood-sucking monster, she still has enough depth and complexity to have important relationships (like a genuine love for her "giant mass of hive mind flies" daughters), and also she gets to have an awesome transformation into a fungal vampire dragon, which is rad as hell. Also goddamn, her fashion sense is immaculate.

7. Hecate from Hellboy

"Hey, she's not a vampire! She's a goddess! That doesn't count!" Fuck you, my list, my rules. Hecate posits herself as the progenitor and mother of vampires, she drinks blood, and her main form in the comic is as a sicknasty lamia version of the iron maiden used by Elizabeth fucking Bathory, if she doesn't count as a vampire, nothing should. She is the concept of a vampire amped up to maximum capacity, a major mythological figure and an awesome villain.

...also I lowkey shipped her and Hellboy when I was a teenager. They could have made it work!

8 - 12. Carmilla and her girl squad from Castlevania

I suppose I could have counted Castlevania's Carmilla as an adaptation of Miss Karnstein - they're both basted out of Styria, both sapphic, and it's clear she's meant to be an adaptation of the former, just as the Dracula of this show is meant to be a take on Bram's famous vampire. But ultimately they're VERY different characters in the grand scheme of things - Castlevania's Carmilla has none of the tenderness and vulnerability of her literary counterpart, instead being full of barely restrained fury. She is an excellent villain, complex enough to be interesting but thoroughly despicable enough to make it VERY satisfying when she bites it.

I also love her girl posse... in concept, at least. They've all got great designs and the groundwork of interesting characters, but of the the three, only Lenore, the waifish redhead, gets to do much of note. The two on the edges kind of just show up for a few scenes and then bail before the plot catches up to them, doing very little of note - though at least the big hunky one gets one of the coolest fight scenes in the whole show.

Back to Lenore though - she gets a really nice character arc, and manages to become one of the few sympathetic vampires in the series (while still doing a lot of monstrous shit - she is not a defanged vampire by any stretch). I think her death scene is one of the most moving moments in the series finale.

13. Seras Victoria

A good female vampire has at least one non-vampire part of her personality, right? Ok, so, Seras is:

the muscle in almost every scene she is, which is to say, the one absolutely beating the shit out of people while her allies run for cover

the perky henchman/morality pet of one of history's greatest monsters

the sole ray of sunshine in cast of edgy, cigar-chomping grizzled mercnaries and antiheroes she's been pressganged into fighting alongside

the victim of some HIDEOUS trauma even before her vampirization

the protege of a wise master who gets a full hero's journey arc, taking up his mantle at the end of the series

Like, I love her. She's the secret protagonist of Hellsing. She's got layers like an onion. The scene where she killed Zora Blitz reminded me why I love anime.

(yeah it's the TFS version fuck you)

14. Youko Shiragami

My Monster Secret is not a horror manga. It is a romantic comedy about a bunch of idiots trying to keep painfully obvious secrets hidden and succeeding only because almost everyone around them is as dumb as they are, just in very different ways. It is a manga where an entire chapter can be summarized as "all the characters race to get the last McRib, using their various supernatural abilities to try and cheat their way to the front of the pack." It is one of the funniest and most heart-warming stories I have ever read, one of my favorite romances of all time, and an excellent piece of long form story-telling.

One of the two main characters is Youko Shiragami, a vampire girl who can't let anyone know she's a vampire or else her dad will pull her out of school. She desperately wants to have a normal life with friends and, like, school shenanigans, but her fear of people uncovering her secret and hating her is so immense that she's been isolating herself from everyone, accidentally torturing herself by being close to what she wants but unable to actually have it.

At least, until Kuromine, the other main character of the story, discovers her secret while trying to ask her out on a date. He ends up promising to keep her secret, and the two of them form a real friendship that blossoms into a very sweet romance, where Youko gets to display all her incongruous personality traits that go against what you'd expect of vampires - namely, that she's kind of a ditz, with an unrefined style of speech and a complete inability to be suave and seductive. She's a sweet, flaky goofball with a big heart, who just happens to drink blood and tan really quickly in the sunlight. There is no other vampire like her, and the world is richer for her being in it.

15. Marceline, the Vampire Queen

This list isn't ranked, but if it was, I'd put Marceline at the top. I think she is not only the most unique and deeply characterized lady vampire in fiction, but ranks right up there with Dracula in how she redefines the idea of what a vampire can be. Like, look at the forms she takes!

There are DOZENS of different monstrous shapes Marceline takes during Adventure Time's 9+ seasons of television, and any one of them would be a superb and memorable vampire on its own. And she's ALL of them. Just on a design standpoint, she is a standout. I think only Dracula himself could compete.

But she also explores what the concept of what a vampire is in ways no other vampire in fiction can, in part because of the unique nature of Adventure Time's setting. In a world where humans are an extreme minority and most people are weird monsters, a vampire isn't that odd, so we get to explore what being a vampire means divorced from the comparison to "normal" human beings. There's the expected tragedy to Marceline, of course - she's a 16 year old who has been stuck in that adolescent state for hundreds of years, and much of her character arc over the show (including the magnificent vampire-centric storyline, "Stakes") focuses on the horror of being stuck in that transitional state, not quite a child but not quite an adult. Marceline struggles to mature, to understand herself and others, and her vampirism both keeps her distant from reaching those goals but also gives her a lot of time to figure out how to approach them when the opportunity arirves. Marceline goes from one of the most immature and selfish characters in the show to perhaps the most emotionally intelligent, blossoming into a sensitive and thoughtful person she could never have been without first becoming a creature that seems so inherently opposed to ever having those traits.

And she did it all in a children's show where she was rarely if ever allowed to actually drink blood - a problem the writers got around by having her suck the red color out of things, which is right up there with the Joker Venom from BTAS in terms of genius ideas spawned by children's show censorship.

Marceline is the GOAT.

[simpinghour]

Shigaraki as your plug 🍃🌱

Shigaraki x reader, Mentions of oral sex, squirting, orgasm, weed

So before you get into this, I want to say that I am so sorry I've not been able to post. I am completely disabled. I'm smoking day and night bc gabapentin doesnt do shit for pain and I cant function any other way.

With that said, I used the voice to text to write most of this but it's still hell on my hands bc I had to use my laptop to edit and my hands are why Im disable. theyre numb as shit as i type this and i gott be up in four hours to go to the ss office.

but im high and is horny hours so here you go, Shigaraki x reader, Mentions of oral sex, squirting, orgasm, weed

Shigaraki is a creepy sort of dude, there's no denying it. But there was something about him that you liked all the same.

Then came the day where some drunk dude thought nothing of shoving his hand up your skirt and groping you at the cub.

By the time Shigaraki was done with the guy, he’d been left cowering in the alley with a broken hand and a busted nose.

He gained more of your respect after that.

It doesn’t hurt that he always is willing to give you free weed. But he always wants to linger at your place for longer than is needed for a regular drop off.

You’ve long suspected that he has a thing for you. Today you’re absolutely sure he does. He brought you some new strain that everyone has been raving about. You have Darkwave playing on low and you’re both reclined on your bed. Shigaraki’s hair tickles your bare calf and his fingers have been suspiciously inching closer and closer to the hem of your shorts.

“Do girls like it when you go down on them?” He asks, completely out of the blue.

Normally you’d be shocked, but the weed he brought has you literally locked into place among your mountain of pillows and squishes. Plus the vibe of the synths in your ear, the fairie lights strung among the floral garland in your room and the sweet sandalwood incense mingled with the dank weed is a delight for the senses.

“Some do,” you reply airily. “And some don’t. I understand why though; it’s only good when you have someone who knows what they’re doing and if not, they’re willing to learn.”

“Ah,” he replies in that oddly rough voice of his. His dry fingers are rubbing along the top of your thigh with more vigor now and you can hear Shigaraki swallowing hard.

“Does that mean you’re willing to teach?” He asks.

“Does that mean you’re willing to leave?”

“Yeah.”

You unceremoniously shift around to kneel up in bed and slip out your shorts and panties. They’re tossed to the floor and you grab a pillow, arrange it so you’ll be comfortable and lie down.

Shigaraki is staring at the entire scene unfold and there’s a strange glimmer in his red eyes. Your pussy has already begun throbbing as it’s been a while since you’ve had any action and you suspect that you’re dripping onto the sheets already.

Shigaraki isn’t even shy— he immediately slides flat onto his belly, slips both arms beneath your thighs and plants a hot, wet mouth directly upon you.

You don’t know if it’s beginner’s luck or what, but he suspiciously finds your clit with deft precision and somehow knows to warm it up gently with the flat of his tongue before aggressively sucking and licking away.

You’re secretly ashamed to admit how much you want to moan by the idea of letting your creepy plug eat your pussy like it’s dessert and do a damn good job.

And then Shigaraki sucks the underside of your clit in a way that forces a yelp out of you. It’s not long before shame leaves your body the way water escapes a popped balloon.

You barely recognize your own voice when you tell him to use his fingers but not go too deep. You’re sure the bastard is smirking the way he inserts two fingertips inside and nudges them juuust right into your g-spot, but you can’t tell because the sensation send a jolt so fierce throughout your entire body and now you’re clutching onto your pillow with both eyes squeezed shut.

Shigaraki seems to know he’s got you where he wants you, because your thighs are easily coaxed up into the air.

Between the perfect fingerwork combined with the perfect lips and tonguework on your now engorged clit, your orgasm hits you faster than you can anticipate. One moment you were sucking in air, trying to cope with the floaty sensation of being high combined with the hot, wet nasty feeling of someone’s open mouth completely engulfing your genitals without it hurting, and the next you were screaming Shigaraki’s name combined with incoherent gibberish as your pussy spasmed and spurted around his long, thick fingers.!

Eventually you realized Shigaraki had turned on the fan and lay back down next to you, in the same before when his soft blue hair brushed against your calf.

He kept going until you begged him to stop, and the only thing you could register was the soaked sheets beneath your ass and the way your body continued to tremble.

[alltheboysandgirlsiloved]

Chaos Theory review (characters' oriented review)

Since everyone is doing this, I thought I'd share my thoughts too because, to some extent, I feel like I'm in a minority here. In this post I'm going to focus mostly on the characters because there's a lot to say about the show in general and I don't have patience to write everything in one post.

spoilers under the cut

I said it yesterday and I will say it again: I absolutely loved Chaos Theory. It was action-packed, well-paced, dramatic and funny. It was everything I loved in Camp Cretaceous.

I'm especially grateful that they gave us a whole variety of emotions coming from all of characters.

I loved yasammy's conflict because it felt real and natural. Yas' PTSD being openly addressed was everything I hoped for (all of them have PTSD in some capacity but when it comes to Yas the execution was on the next level). And Sammy being fiercely overprotective over her girlfriend to the point it became too much?? That made so much sense because she had always been always protective but after the experiences in camp cretaceous, it is no wonder that this trait started to get out of her control. I don't know, it just made sense. I hope that in season 2 they go in detail about Sammy's family situation, I want her to talk about it with Yas. I'm really curious how it will play out and I can't wait to see Yas being super awesome supportive girlfriend.

I also really liked Darius and Kenji's relationship - I know, I know but hear me out. I actually enjoyed how the conflict(s) in their case seemed to keep piling up; they were growing like a fungus. I adored that little bit when Kenji mentioned that he stayed in touch with Darius' mother, while Darius didn't call her. I think it was incredible; such a small detail but tells you a lot about the years in their life that we didn't get to see.

While we are at it, I have to address the whole Darius and Brooklyn thing which I actually... didn't mind. I really didn't? And I don't mind that it was one-sided either. Maybe because it is the first (*cough*) openly addressed one-sided love story between the campers. I've always loved Darius and Brooklyn friendship, I genuinely believe that it was one of the strongest relationships in CC. It would be cool if they stayed platonic but really, I truly don't mind that one-sided love plotline. I wouldn't even call it a love triangle because to me it seems that Darius, to some extent, always knew that it was an unrequited crush, and I don't feel a sense of a privatization (between Kenji and Darius) either. You know what I actually liked about this situation? The fact that Darius didn't go to meet with Brooklyn because he was basically ashamed, embarrassed, and a little scared of his own feelings, of getting hurt. I feel like, in the long run, this is going to be incredible for his character development. Darius trying to run away from his own feelings to the point where he abandoned someone, where he tried hiding something from others? I genuinely think it added to his character and gave him additional depth. That's just my opinion though. I also think that even without that romantic plotline he would still call Brooklin after her "death". So to me, this really didn't change much other than adding more awkwardness and I had no trouble handling that (I always really liked visually the scene where Kenji and Darius were sitting in the bathtub. There was something pleasing about this)

Moving on to Kenji... Killing Daniel Kon so fast was certainly... a choice but. Kenji's reaction to his death was so well-done. It really highlighted the complex relationship that Kenji had with his father - someone he hated but who he also considered kind of a indestructible. His reaction was so heartbreaking and I was there for it.

And then there's also Ben. I'm gonna be honest - I am biased. I loved him before, I love him still so it feels unfair to write about him from my very biased perspective. Still - they could never make me hate him. I like how his character changed in so many ways but also stayed true to his core – he is adventurous and a little reckless (like a Jungle Boy that he was), and he is also soft and sensitive (that scene when he was crying when he was hiding under the truck broke me). I'm extremely curious about his background story that we barely touched upon - it is obvious that he had been living in that van for a while, which is interesting considering how he used to live on the campus and (let me remind you that) he has a loving mother that would surely support him if he decided to take a break just because he needs a break. From the looks of it, Ben seemed to be living on his own for a while – was his obsession with "being hunted" the only reason? or was there more? many questions. I am also a bit... sceptial about his girlfriend. The first time he mentioned her was not convincing to say at least, not to mention that apparently he had been living without his phone for a while now - were they talking online all this time or what? Idk, if he really has a girlfriend then first of all - the screenwriters are cowards, second of all - the relationship doesn't seem super-convincing for now.

Bonus: Mateo is one of the best characters introduced in the show, for me, he beats even Mae. He was perfect, actually perfect, I loved him. I really hope we will see him again in season 2 (above taking care of Bumpy) because I really liked his agency and his character arc.

Overall: I feel like your final review of CT depends heavily on what you tend to focus on while watching the show, and what you like in shows in general. I don't mind drama as long as it doesn't interfere with characters' personality. And I feel like a lot of choices they made in CT actually makes sense for these characters. I think it is also important to remember that this was - from what I understand - planned as a two-seasons long shows from the beginning which means that a lot of loose ends and decisions may not make sense yet but they will eventually be developed in season 2 (which would be awesome, we love consistent writing)

anyway, I only watched CT once for now, so don't quote me. I'm sure that I will have more thoughts later

[enigmatist17]

His skin is still sizzling when there's the sound of someone running towards Astarion.

It's been a few short minutes since Astarion had been forced to run for cover, the sun he'd come to love dearly now deadly with the last squirms of the tadpole that perished with its maker. He'd managed to find cover behind some crates, and failed to bite back pained whimpers as he struggled not to claw at himself.

"I have you, I have you." Blinded eyes frantically dart towards the direction of a familiar deep voice, and a cool hand cups the side of the spawns face. "You're safe, it's alright."

"It hurts..." It's such a pitiful whimper, but given the fact that at any moment he could harm himself with a mere tug, it seemed appropriate.

"Not for much longer." Gale's reassurance is all Astarion needs to hear, so for the moment he focuses on his breathing. It's not needed for what he is, but the motions have done wonders for his frazzled nerves since he was taught what felt like only yesterday, so in and out the air goes through a dead heart until Shadowheart kneels beside him. She does her best to heal the worst of it, burned skin turning from ashen grey slowly back to its normal pale shade, or at least parts of him anyways. He's still quite blind much to his disappointment, but the knowledge that Tav is nearby is a comfort, no matter how small.

"You'll need blood for the rest of this, I can't fix much more."

"I suppose I could do the rest of this myself." Astarion sniffs, and the cleric rolls her eyes in exasperation.

"Come on, there's a building not far from here that's still standing." Tav seems to have come from nowhere, draping a cloak the group was sure they had sold a while ago over the vampire. "This is the thickest one I had."

"Tav, darling, did I ever tell you how much I adore your little hoarding habit?" There's a snort as Astarion does his best to drape the heavy fabric around himself, grateful Gale is there to make sure it's done properly. They can hear the distant cries of citizens all over as they hurry towards the building, some sort of warehouse that is empty as Halsin wrenches the door open, only to pause with everyone else when vampire knowledge pops into their minds.

"I've never dealt with a vampire, but you're invited inside?" Shadowheart winced at how awkward she sounded, but for now Astarion doesn't tease, carefully reaching into the building and luckily finding no resistance. With that he's rushed inside, and there's a collective sigh as the tension of his potential demise is warded away.

"While it's not the hall of celebration I would have chosen, it will do." Jaheria hummed as she looked around, Minsc hovering by her side as always. "Let's go see if we can find some ale, I could do with a drink."

"Minsc and Boo approve of this idea!" The ranger grinned, and the duo set off while Halsin starts picking up fallen over tables and chairs.

"Where are we?" Astarion winces as he's set onto a chair, his back aching something fierce as he can hear random scraping of furniture.

"A warehouse, it'll do for now." Gale pats his leg, and Astarion can hear the humming of the Weave as Gale begins to do...something, if Shadowheart's soft sigh of awe said anything. "If we're to celebrate, it should at least look nice."

"I think he'll approve." Tav's footsteps are familiar to Astarion, the spawn tracking them go all around the room before eventually coming to sit beside him. "So, lets get you feeling a little bit better."

"Darling, I'm flattered." He can smell the soot from battle on Tav's barren arm that's soon placed in his hands, warm blood singing with the fury of a battle hard fought. The feeling seeps into his veins the moment Astarion bites down, each beat of Tav's heart fixing torn skin and making burns fade from view, the hero's smiling face emerging from his temporary blindness.

"There they are, I was missing that ruby gaze." Gale chuckled to himself, the basic bench Tav had been sitting on changing to marble with a plush cushion to catch their leader when they sink back with a pleased sigh.

"Silver tongue." With a kiss, Tav's arm is released, and the warm cloak is shed and placed over the other with a soft smile. "Thank you dear."

"Mhm..." Astarion can't help but gently pat the top of Tav's head, running his fingers through their soft hair before pulling back and carefully stretching his arms. His skin doesn't protest the movement, and the fear in his back of his mind melts away as he joins Gale at the closest table, and for a moment he takes in the first time they've had some actual peace.

No more rushing from battle to battle, no more chasing down the Absolute, no more fretting over saving the city.

Just peace.

"You'll walk in the sun again." Ruby eyes flicker over at the simple statement, and Gale can see the spike of desire at the thought that fades just as quick as it appears. "Not sure how to help with the water and invitations inside, but I'm sure with enough time and wine, I can fix that as well."

"How about one thing at a time, hm?" Gale's hands had never fully regained the warmth of life after he had died what felt like ages ago, but they were still warmer than Astarion's as he takes Gale's closet hand with a gentle noise, nearly lost in the lapping water a few feet away. "Your orb is more of a priority."

"Perhaps, but I always enjoy having multiple projects." He watches the spawn press a gentle kiss to the wound on the center of his palm, and once again his heart melts. "Will you come with me to Waterdeep?"

"Are you certain you want me?" The kisses climb up his hand slowly, little cuts from battle vanishing with each one, Halsin and Shadowheart's conversation across the room a welcome lull. "I don't think I've been to Waterdeep, could be fun."

"You're always welcome." The kisses stop when Astarion looks up, and the two hold a gaze before the vampire chuckles.

"You are too sweet." Gale rolls his eyes, and it's not long before Minsc and Jaheria have returned, having somehow found some intact ale barrels and some food.

The warehouse is filled with drunken heroes before long, all of them celebrating a fight that should have been impossible after such a long journey from that crash site weeks ago. Tav in particular tires out early, laughing at a tale Jaheria is entertaining everyone with while lounging on a bed Gale formed from thin air. They're resting against said wizard as they drain their cup once more, Astarion more than happy to pour their leader more drink as he sits on their other side, laughing when Tav finally toppled over into sleep.

"Whatever shall we do with you?" The vampire helped move them into a more comfortable position, and finally settles down himself as various members settle down around the large room for a well earned nap. The beating of their hearts are a comfort as Astarion watches as one by one they slip into sleep, pressing a kiss to Gale's forehead when he's the last to join his companions with a sleepy hum.

The saviors of Baldur's Gate sleep as the city and its people face the day with relief, and it's the first time they rest with utter peace.

[grandlinedreams]

You probably hear this a lot, but your writing is amazing. I’ve spent hours just going through your works and they all tug at my heart. Is it possible to request a lax x reader where he realizes he’s been overworking the reader a bit to much. Like, asking her to do something while she’s already working on something else he asked for. And maybe poor reader gets frustrated but tries to hide it.

Hiya!! Thank-you so much, it really does mean a lot to me that people enjoy my rambling hehe ㅡ but also absolutely, I can do that!! I hope that this is to your liking bb!!

He doesn't mean to, you know he doesn't.

But you're still a human, and there's only so much that you can do at a time ㅡ and Law tends to forget it. Sure, he delegates tasks to the others, but you seem to be the one he entrusts more difficult ones to and you're honored, truly ㅡ you just wish it weren't so much all at once.

Case in point, he's sent you out into the main town of this island for supplies, both crew-related and not, the list varying wildly from pantry staples to medical supplies.

You don't mind, you tell yourself firmly. After all, he's done so much for you ㅡ the least you can do is take on whatever he asks of you without complaint.

It's a whirlwind of activity as you flit from place to place, amassing a pile of neatly wrapped packages, boxes, and brown paper bags that only seems to grow with every stop. (How you're going to get all of this back to the Polar Tang is beyond you, you have no nifty powers like your Captain.)

Your muscles ache by the time you find a second to rest, studying the remaining items on the list and eyeing the sack full of berries that Law had sent you out with. You're almost done ㅡ and you smile to yourself, pride tempered by the abrupt growl of your stomach. Right ㅡ you haven't eaten yet today.

"I'm making good time," you mumble to yourself, "so I could grab lunch..."

Neatly folding the list, you tuck it into your pocket along with the money for said items, retrieving your own pouch of personal coin and set off to find something to eat.

The closest place ends up being a little shop with a refrigerated display case showing off various sandwiches and salads, along with neat rows of carefully shaped onigiri. Your expression lights up.

"Could I get two of the grilled salmon onigiri, please?" Given that he'd been in the middle of studying when he sent you off, you have no doubts that Law has yet to eat anything either ㅡ and since you're using your own money, he has no room to complain, either.

It's as you're watching your items be wrapped up that you become aware of the low 'purururu' from your pocket, rummaging to retrieve the tiny transponder snail. It's made in your Captain's likeness, from the tiny speckled cap to the shadows under its eyes.

Hurriedly handing the waiting cashier the berri needed, your attention shifts back to the snail as you answer it. "Captain?"

"[Name]," Law answers, "have you finished getting supplies?"

"Well no, Iㅡ"

"Good, I need you to add a couple more things." You bite back a groan of weary annoyance. Of course there's more. It takes a second of fussing to find the list, mouthing a "thank-you" when you're handed a pen to scribble it down. "Have you got it?"

"Yes, Captain." There's the click on the other line, and you huff. "Wouldn't kill him to say 'thank-you'..."

Food stacked as carefully as you can on the pile of purchases, you set off to resume retrieving the rest of the (now longer) list.

"Do you need help with that?" Concerned, the last store owner watches as you struggle to lift the massive pile, parcels at the top wobbling.

"No, I've got it. Thank-you though," you answer, trying to keep the strain out of your voice as you stagger off in the direction of the Polar Tang, muscles straining under the weight.

How you manage to get everything onto the submersible, you don't know ㅡ only that your body aches something fierce by the time you've hauled the last armful onto the deck.

Vision obscured by the boxes in your arms, you jolt as your boot hits the corner of a box and makes you scramble to correct your balance.

"Gotcha!" Fingers snag in the back of your shirt to keep you from falling over, but there's nothing to be done about the sway of the items on top ㅡ the food you'd picked up for yourself and Law ㅡ and you watch as your food topples from it and busts open on the deck.

Wonderful.

"You good?" Penguin peers at your face, finding you staring silently at the mess of food on the floor. Law's onigiri, at the very least, remain neatly wrapped on the stack of boxes. "It's okay, we can clean it upㅡ"

"[Name]." Both you and Penguin look up to find Law standing by the door, taking in the stacks of supplies before he continues. "I needㅡ"

Need. Need, need, need ㅡ frustration mixes with exhaustion in the way you tremble, snatching the onigiri from the pile and striding towards Law.

"All due respect, Captain," you say flatly, shoving the food into his hands, "but either ask someone else, or do it yourself."

And then you're gone, trying not to stomp your way to the bunkhouse. Law turns, startled by the way you've talked to him, the thinly veiled insubordination ㅡ and then down to the pair of onigiri, smell of grilled fish reaching his nose.

"To be fair," Penguin pipes up, "you've been running [Name] pretty ragged lately. They're usually the last one to go to bed and the first one up, so maybe...go a little easier on them?"

Law frowns. Has he been asking too much of you as of late? You've never complained, simply offered a "yes Captain" and continued on. Tasks got done, things completed. But then again, you shouldn't have to complain for him to know it's too much for one person to handle.

It's guilt that has him turning to head for the bunkhouse, knocking tentatively before he opens the door and steps in.

Your back is to him, blanket tugged up around your ears, and he can see you tense as he approaches. "If you're coming to tell me my punishment for talking back," you say, "I'll accept it."

You sound so tired, and it makes Law feel even worse for continuing to add things to your seemingly never ending task list. "I'm not going to punish you," he says. "If anything, I think I'm the one who deserves punishment for not noticing how hard I've been working you."

"I don't mind." You still won't look at him. "It's just a lot to handle at times."

"I know." Law plays with the wrapping of the onigiri. "And I apologize. I rely on you for a lot, and I appreciate what you do for me, for this crew." He pauses. "I also apologize for not saying that enough."

You're quiet for several long moments before you roll over to look at him. "I forgive you."

A small smile tugs at Law's lips. "Good," he says, "but I need you to do one more thing for me." You frown as you sit up, eyeing him warily before he offers you one of the onigiri. "Eat with me?"

You blink, then take it from his hand and meet his gaze, an answering smile curving your own lips. "Of course, Captain."

[crimsoncold]

Just me reflecting on Sansa Stark, her Show Character Arc, and how one aspect of the show that I was critical of (some of the later costume design choices for Sansa and what they meant for her character arc and what they indicate about the attitudes of the writers) in turn helped inspire my art...

So I've been working on an art piece on and off since February and it might just be my favorite portrait I've ever done-both for how it turned out and for the inspiration behind it...

Before I started this piece I was dwelling a bit on my dissatisfaction with some of D&D's handling of this character in the later seasons... and soon came about the desire to do a portrait that incorporates the intensity, strength, and resilience of Sansa Stark while still getting to embrace and maintain some of the general softness, feminity, and romanticism that characterized her appearance and personality in the book and earlier seasons of the show...

It always seemed shitty to me that the show felt it had to squash out any traditionally feminine or more girly aspects of her appearance and personality to show that she should be taken seriously as a character

....As though these aspects are some sort of flaw Sansa had surpassed and that erasing her "softer" traits is some powerful cumulation or amazing visual cue for her character arc.... "Look she dresses all in black... she doesn't need or trust anyone...she put away all her childish dreams and hopes...doesn't she finally seem like a real stark....isnt she now so gritty and impressive - isn't this the best sort of ending/arc for Sansa!"

In reality this trope is lazy, over done, and reeks of underlying misogyny (Sansa was hardly the only character to get- or suffer from- this visual treatment in the later seasons of Game of Thronew but I'd argue that for her this choice was distinctly disappointing and had some important consequences/implications for her character arc)

Sansa’s biggest strength should have always remained her ability to maintain her kindness and compassion despite the horrors and mistreatment she experienced... and a satisfying arc should have involved her having the ability to demonstrate both her natural empathy and the burgeoning ability to apply said compassion in a more careful and considered manner which would live up to the values of her parents/family and ensure that the north (after experiencing such immense betrayal chaos and hardship) once again thrives under a just and fair ruler.

So I wanted to make a portrait of that would embody the sort of ending/arc (and be the sort of tribute) I think she deserves... (that the unfinished book series has not provided and that she certainly did not get in the tv series)

Looking at the core of this character and the ways the writing/narrative of the show ultimately let her and the audience down I have the following thoughts...

Sansa is strong enough to face and outlast every villain who targeted her family and tried to manipulate and use her as a child...

....Fierce enough to rally support to reclaim her ancestral home and land

... determined enough to hold Winterfell and the North's independence against any invader that wished to subjugate them...

....who- in a manner deserving far more praise than it gets-kept her integrity compassion even when at her most powerless and vulnerable...

... whose love of stories and songs or even beautiful dresses is not something that deserved erasure or ridicule

...who had hopes and dreams about family, marriage, motherhood, and being reunited with her siblings that despite how hard life - and the showrunners- tried to stomp out of her actually deserved to evolve into something grounded and real ... (fulfilled in winterfell with a worthy partner rather than being abandoned entirely as she is left isolated in the north without any of her surviving kin).

The sort of ending I want for the QITN is one celebrating her survival, her resilience, and strength of character... as well as rejoicing and still embracing who she is as a person... including her more traditional and feminin interests/hobbies/appearance, her hopes and dreams for her future and family, and her inherently compassionate nature (which is a strength all on its own).

Ned Stark's daughter, the blood of Winterfell, who will rule the north with the reverent support of her people, with an incredible mix of ferocity in the face of adversity and compassion in the face of need, who will not stand idly by and let vultures pick away at her remaining family, (or fall for any of the bullshit spewed out from an invading conquerer and their yes men advisors)...

...all the while she should still get to eat lemoncakes, sew, listen to stories, sing songs, experience love and family with her siblings and one day through her marriage and children, while she still gets to wear whatever fucking beautiful dress she wants 💙

And while this portrait may not cover every aspect of her ending that I hope she gets in the books and wished she got in the show- i'll save those aspects for my other sansa (or jonsa) centric art pieces- I am satisfied that it managed to captured some of her determination and strength while also presenting her in a way that does not judge or erase her more feminine characteristics.

Now For anyone who decided to read through my very rambly thoughts thank you and have a little glimpse at what the ongoing process has been like for this portrait as a treat...

- Crimson Cold

[ineffabildaddy]

on today's episode of understanding good omens through my own life:

a story about my ineffable inevitable queer teenage experience with an intense, volatile, fiercely affectionate 'friendship' that was definitely not just a friendship in retrospect.

when i was eleven, i started secondary school, and i met a girl who quickly became my best friend (i'm a trans man, and i also understood myself as a girl at the time. i still understand myself as a girl at that time). we became known as a unit because we couldn't get enough of each other, and we did absolutely everything together.

on the first day of our second year, we saw each other for the first time in several weeks because she had been away in her home country that summer. i had been counting down the seconds until she came back. when she was in the process of giving out souvenirs from her trip to all our friends, she waited until she saw i was alone and approached me. she handed me a ziploc bag full of shells and rock fragments.

"i picked these out for you at the beach," she said.

i thanked her and asked her to show me the bags of shells she'd made up for the others.

"i didn't do this for the others. i only did it for you," she responded, and walked away.

i had never felt anything like what i felt in that moment, and i haven't since. i was a lonely kid, especially before that age. what i mean to say is... no one had ever done anything just for me. no one had ever thought of me when i wasn't there; no one had ever taken the time to give me something that they had so carefully picked out; no one had ever stated with such conviction, in what was said or what was unsaid, that what they had done for me was not to be enjoyed by anyone else.

i like to remember this when i try to understand this moment in good omens:

i can't begin to comprehend what aziraphale must have felt in that moment, but remembering that day of my own life is the closest thing i've got.

mere months after that day, we started to argue. we had a huge falling out. i told her that no one on earth was capable of hurting me quite like she was (thirteen year-old me, in her own twisted way, thought that was a compliment). she told me in no uncertain terms that she couldn't stand me. we stopped talking.

a few months after that, we reconciled and we became closer than ever, but that tension, that unrest, was always lying under the surface, just waiting to gnash its teeth - and sometimes it did. these were also the years in which we were discovering our queer identities, and it took us a long time to really understand each other's journeys in that regard.

at sixteen, we both left our school and moved to a different institution till we graduated at eighteen. though we were at the same sixth form college, we just had different lives and didn't hang out anymore, though we remained on good terms. now, we text every once in a while, and we always say we'll meet up, but we never do. in october of last year, i bumped into her for the first time in maybe four years while coming home from a pavement gig. she was sitting on the doorstep of her parents' place with a roll-up cigarette. it was like no time had passed.

looking back, i can say with full confidence that i was in love with her. i do not know how else to understand our relationship. she drove me up the wall the way she did because i had never felt anything like what i felt for her for anyone else - and i haven't to this day.

even now, every time she is even mentioned in conversation, i dream about her the night following. and i still have those shells, hidden away in a wooden box i've never shown anyone; it's not too far from the shoebox that contains every note she ever passed me, every doodle she ever drew for me, every card she ever wrote me. in other words, i was permanently altered by our relationship, and her absence from my life has never diminished that. the same can naturally be said of crowley and aziraphale, to a much, much greater extent. i relive my memories of us because they help me understand many things about myself and others, and i've recently found that good omens has encouraged this.

this ended up longer than i intended but i hope you got something out of it.<3