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after-witch · 5 months

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The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Title: The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Synopsis: You're a District 2 school graduate who comes to the Capitol with her father before the 11th Hunger Games. You don't expect to meet anyone kind, especially not someone named Coriolanus Snow who offers you his arm, his smile, and treats in secret.

Word Count: 5270

notes: yandere, abusive relationship, non-graphic descriptions of torture and death (not against reader); uses a mixture of book and movie canon

The Capitol was not as dazzling as your father described it but then, he had seen it before the war. Though perhaps it was your own bitterness that made you ignore the signs of returning prosperity that sets it above everywhere else.

The repaired elaborate buildings, the fresh pungent smell of plaster and paint. The cars pumping exhaust fumes into the air. The low rumble of garbage trucks that pick up bright green garbage cans, some of which are actually teeming with plastic trash bags. Such waste was unheard of, even in the oh-so-loyal District 2, where only the lowest of the low find themselves starving.

Although not-starving didn’t mean that everything was plentiful.

You, though, were lucky enough to avoid the lima bean heavy diet that some of your classmates (now former--graduation was months ago) lived on. Or were you? The meat that graced your family’s dinner table, the pats of butter on toast, were all courtesy of your father’s immense talent in building creative weapons that allowed the Capitol to stamp out every last bit of rebellion in the Districts. That allowed them to regain control. That allowed them to create the Hunger Games.

Which is why you were in the Capitol now. Oh, not to participate in them. Your father’s status in District 2 had seen to that; it would be a scandal if the name of his beloved daughter were to ever be pulled.

You were there because your father had been given a lucrative contract, one that was sure to cement your family’s wealth for generations: a contract to build high-tech weapons for the Hunger Games themselves.

They would still be killing. But on a much smaller scale, you supposed, than the weapons your father designed during the war.

Still. Blood was blood. And if it had to be spilled, well, there was nothing you could do about it except hope they died quickly. Especially the ones from District 2.

Last year’s Games’ had been awful enough. Your family had watched the Games on a modest television set in the privacy of your living room, sent courtesy of the Capitol.

You wondered if you would ever get the sight of Marcus’ battered, bloated face from your mind; if you would ever unhear the way his body thumped to the ground when that girl had killed him, out of mercy. If you would ever stop imagining what it must have felt like in those last moments.

But it wasn’t all horror. You’d liked Lucy Gray well enough, even though she was from 12. She had a wild way of dressing and the singing--it was practically theatrical, compared to what you’d heard about the previous games.

Maybe that was why your father got this contract: theatrics. Maybe the games would be more dramatic from now on. Maybe they wanted tributes like Lucy Gray, who sang and spit and poisoned her way to Victory. It was strange, really, that there’d been hardly any talk of her since her win.

“Father?” You asked, quietly as you could.

Both of you were standing in the foyer of the grand university in the Capitol. The outside was still a little ravaged, but inside, it was perfectly lovely. Walls lined with books--perhaps some of them were fake--and marble floors and marble busts dotting the sight lines.

“Mm?” He replied, eyes scanning over his clipboard. He flips it, here and there.

“I was just thinking. About last year’s games. About Lucy Gray, and how the Games--”

Your father rounded on you, eyes suddenly serious and blazing.

“Quiet. Weren’t you paying attention on the way here?” Admittedly, you were not. You’d been daydreaming about what you might do now that you were done with school. There was no university in District 2, and your father hadn’t even mentioned a job. “You’re not supposed to mention--”

“Not supposed to mention whom? Ah, ah, ah. Lucy Gray Baird?” called a voice, almost in sing-song.

Your father stood up stiff, and the life seemed to drain from his face.

Both of you look towards the sound of the voice, and now it’s your turn to stiffen. The voice came from a woman standing in the doorway of the very office that your father was waiting to enter. She was wearing an elaborate jacket made of what looked like rainbow snake scales. Her hair was gray and curly. She had, you realized, two different colored eyes.

Your father swallowed, and you could see the apple of it bob up and down. It made you think, abruptly, of suckling pigs.

“Dr. Gaul,” he said, in a voice far too tight to be relaxed. “I apologize for my daughter’s insubordination, I assure you, she meant no--”

Dr. Gaul waved her hands at him and approached you.

“Did you like last year’s games?” She didn’t look angry. No, she looked delighted.

“I…” It was your turn to swallow, your turn to feel that tightness. “It-it was the first time I’ve watched them, ma’am.” You want to ask this woman: do you think I liked watching someone from my District 2 so horribly? Or any District, really? Did I like it?

Her smile grew wider.

“I’m glad. You’ll be watching them every year from now on, I hope. We have big plans.” Her eyebrows raised high. “Big changes. Thanks to men like your father.” She glanced at him and you saw disdain flicker across her gaze.

And then another door opened, and you heard the sound of polished shoes on the marble floor. Dr. Gaul’s attention dropped away from you like you were nothing at all. She turned to meet the sound of these footsteps, and you did too.

It was a young man. Probably your age, you thought, with light blonde hair and eyes that your mother would have described as “baby blue.” He didn’t look at you, or your father. But that was nothing new. You’d only been in the Capitol for 2 days, and you’d already gotten used to being treated as lesser than. Though, at least, you were not so far down on the food chain that you lost your tongue.

“Ah, my protege,” said Dr. Gaul, giving the young man a grin. The smile on her face almost looked warm, which was somehow far more terrifying than her manic smile from earlier. “Ever the earnest student. Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying the day off, Mr. Snow?”

The young man, this “Snow,” chuckled and lowered his gaze. “I couldn’t stay away once I heard you were discussing some of the new prototypes for this year’s games.”

He finally looked at your father, and then at you. But only briefly.

“Can I assume that this is…?”

Dr. Gaul nodded.

“Yes. My little designer from District 2. And his daughter.” Her voice dropped a few octaves when she referred to you. She probably didn’t want you here, you thought. You weren’t supposed to come, but your father had begged the Capitol for a pass; it would probably be your only chance to see it, he said, so you may as well take advantage of the chance.

Snow nodded to your father. It was a surprising gesture, almost respectful. But cold, too, like it was done from necessity rather than anything else.

Your father stammered a bit and nodded back, and you felt shame begin to creep into your bones. It wasn’t fair, to be lesser-than. But weren’t others lesser-than you in your own District, where you ate better food and never worried that your name would get picked, that your blood would be spilled?

Everyone

But when Snow turned to you, he smiled. It gave him dimples.

It was the first kind smile anyone in the Capitol gave you.

“My name is Coriolanus Snow. I doubt you’ve heard of me, but if Dr. Gaul’s teachings have anything to say about it, perhaps one day you’ll know me as a Gamemaker.”

You didn’t know what to say. Congratulations, one day you’ll be coordinating Games that kill people? Instead, you gave your name, voice squeakier than you meant it. But it was fitting, you supposed. Here, you were a mouse, hoping you would get a bite of cheese and make it home unpoisoned.

Dr. Gaul’s face seemed to react slowly, as if she couldn’t decide what she thought about his words or your interaction, but a small smile grew on it, eventually. “I do have high hopes for you, Mr. Snow. Now, shall we?”

She gestured for your father to follow, face once again impassive with a sprinkle of disdain, as she led the two of them into her office.

Snow gave you a smile and a nod before he left.

You waved, stupidly.

Your father didn’t even look back.

I’m dead. I’m dead. I might as well be dead.

Your heartbeat kept time with your racing thoughts as you went up and down corridors, begging your shoes to be silent, wishing your breath would catch and stop coming out in terrible pants.

You were lost. You weren’t where you were supposed to be. If someone found you, if the wrong person found you, they would think you were running, trying to get lost in the Capitol; they’d think you were a rebel. They’d shoot you.

Just when you thought you might collapse and die from your own nervous exhaustion, you heard the most wonderful sound in the world.

Your name.

It was only the moment after that you realized it didn’t come from your father’s mouth, but the lips of--what his name--Coriolanus Snow. The young man who was a Gamemaker-in-training, or so your father said. But that’s all he would say. He kept tight about anything that went on behind closed doors.

But this Coriolanus Snow smiled at you, and didn’t look at you like you were some kind of insect he might want to pin on a board, and so when you whirled around to look at him you were smiling.

Ah--for a moment. For just a moment, you saw his muscles tense. You saw the expression on his face falter in worry. Like he thought he was about to miss a step on a staircase, and corrected himself; like he thought you were a wolf and you were only somebody’s dog, off their leash.

But it wasn’t too surprising. You knew most people in the Capitol thought anyone from the Districts wanted to rip out their throats.

Well, the worry was mutual. Except in your case, you were forced to walk around with the living proof of that worry--all those “Avoxes,” they called them. Without tongues, without freedom.

But you swallow all that. Because he smiled at you. Because maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend. Especially right now.

“I’m--I’m lost,” you tell him, giving a shaky smile. “I was waiting for my father, but you see, I got to thinking, and I started to wander around and now I’m… well. I don’t know where I am, actually.”

His smile wasn’t very deep, was it? It was like the gloss of paint on the outside of the Capitol buildings. Pretty to look at, but there must be more underneath.

You expected him to lead you right back to where you’re supposed to be.

Instead, he asked you something.

“What were you thinking about?

You couldn’t tell him. Could you? But something about

“About… the Games.”

You don’t tell him that you were thinking about Lucy Gray and all those snakes, and the way that Dr. Gaul’s outfit that first day made you think of them. Because your father had slapped you across the face when you got back to your lodgings that night, and told you to never, ever bring up Lucy Gray Baird or the 10th Games unless you were directly asked. And you would probably never be asked.

Coriolanus gave a little snort through his nose. You liked it. It was nice to know that even Capitol people could seem a little dorky.

“They aren’t for another 3 months. Are you that eager to see them?”

You didn’t know what expression you made, exactly. It was so instinctive and fast that you didn’t have time to control it.

You only knew that it made him shake his head and offer you a sympathetic look.

“I apologize. That was rude, wasn’t it?”

And then he did a strange thing.

He offered you his arm.

Like you were Capitol, like you were a real person, and not some visiting District wench walking on the coattails of her arms-dealing father.

“Let me walk you back to the waiting area.”

And the stranger thing?

You took it.

You and your father were quickly moved into a small apartment within the university, once it became clear that he would be staying in the Capitol through the duration of the Games. It was best, he said, because ordinary people in the Capitol didn’t really want to see new faces from the Districts mingling around unless their tongue had been cut out first. It made them nervous. The rebel bombings, and all that.

You didn’t mind, because it meant you didn’t have to be flanked by Peacekeepers on the streets.

And, well.

You got to see Coriolanus more often. Sometimes he greeted you, sometimes he didn’t. He did it less often when Dr. Gaul was there, unless she was talking to your father and it gave him an opportunity.

He asked you things, too, when he caught you walking back to your father’s little apartment. Like what you did back home. What you liked to do. Whether you went to school, and what you planned to do now that you have graduated.

This morning, he caught you drawing while you waited in a chair outside Dr. Gaul’s office. Sometimes you waited there--you would admit to no one that it was to catch a glimpse of the kindest person you’d met in the Capitol--and other times you stayed in your temporary home.

“What are you drawing?” He asked. But he had a way of speaking that you’d quickly clocked into. He can make a demand sound like a polite little question. Oh, he wasn’t mean about it, but it reminded you of the way your father talked to his underlings back in District 2. On his home turf, he was far smoother than he was here, where his voice stammered and sweat beaded on his neck.

So you handed it over, even though, to your greatest embarrassment, you’d drawn… him.

“Why me?” He had a smile on his lips. His smiles were nice. Kind. The kindest you’d seen since you came here. But they always felt like that fresh coat of paint; like you didn’t know what he really meant by them, and that was how he liked it.

“You’re… important,” is all you could come up with. You felt small, then. He would dismiss and probably never want to talk to you again. What a stupid answer from a stupid girl.

But he just smiled. It was like paint peeling a little. You could see underneath that he liked what you said, although you weren’t exactly sure why. And his expression tightened up so quickly, protecting what you’d seen, that you weren’t entirely sure if it was real or not.

“I’m just a humble student at this university. Not so important. Not yet.”

You were really going to die, now. This wasn’t some panicked imagination gone wrong, some flight of fancy that took a wrong turn.

A pair of stony-faced Peacekeepers had walked up to where you sat in the waiting area near Dr. Gaul’s office and ordered you to come with them.

You asked to talk to your father. They said no. You asked where you were going. They yanked you up.

And now they were leading you down hallways that you’d never seen before, where there weren’t even Avoxes roaming the halls with brooms and dustpans.

They didn’t even answer, just spun around and walked back the way they came. You pushed the door open reluctantly--what the hell was going to be on the other side?--and it was--it was--

It was Coriolanus. Standing there in a nice suit, eyes downcast on a book. Until the door creaked and he looked up.

“What--why did you bring me here? Did I do something wrong?” The thought went through you, that perhaps this had all been a test, to see if you were loyal to the Capitol and he’d found you wanting.

“No,” he said, simply enough. He set the book down and gestured for you to step inside. You did, because what else were you going to do, in some strange room in a Capitol University where you’d been forcibly brought by Peacekeepers.

Snow studied your face. Your eyes darted around, from him, to the room, to the door.

“I wanted to see you,” he said, a little softer. “In private.”

“Me?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “But… why?”

He smiled. “Come now, you’re a smart girl, even if you aren’t in university.”

You really didn’t know. Not at first. But then you watched the way his expression softened, and you remembered it, or glimpses of it, that he’d given you before. When he complimented your drawing. When he said your name. When he escorted you back from the maze of hallways. And his smiles, all his smiles, although you were never sure how much they meant coming from home.

He took a step closer. You didn’t dare step back. You weren’t sure if you wanted to step back, but it didn’t matter, either way.

He pressed his lips to yours and took your first kiss, in a secluded little study in the heart of the Capitol University.

Your days became routine, although the routine was strictly forbidden and could have probably gotten you executed or at best, gotten you a one-way ticket to a tasteless existence.

You wake up. You stay in your apartment. You wait for the Peacekeepers. You get summoned here and there, always private rooms, secret rooms, rooms out of the way. You meet Snow--Coriolanus, he said, call him that--and you talk (well, mostly him) and kiss and sometimes a little bit more. He gives you gifts. Trinkets, necklaces that you can only wear under your shirt. Food, flaky pastries made with mountains of sugar, sandwiches made with cream and cucumber.

But how much longer could it go on? The Games were going to start soon. As soon as they were over, you were going back to your District. There would be no more meetings, no more kisses. No more wondering how far he wanted to go or why he liked you or even if he even liked you as anything more than someone to keep him busy.

You didn’t dare talk about the Games, but you did talk about this. In the kindest way you knew how for such a sensitive subject.

“I’ll miss you,” you told Coriolanus after one meeting, when you’re both sitting on a sofa and he’s got your fingers tightly wound in his. He squeezed them tight.

“Miss me?”

“After the Games,” you clarified. “We’re being sent home right after.”

He squeezed your fingers until it hurt a little. Then he looked up at you. To see if you would say something? Or did he not know how strong he was?

“Oh, that. I can arrange for you to stay.”

Your chest began to feel sick.

“Stay? In the Capitol?” You were torn about Coriolanus, but you didn’t want to stay here. You couldn’t.

“Yes,” he said, as if it was the simplest answer in the world. “You wouldn’t be the first person from the District granted such an extreme privilege. I’m sure I could--”

“But I don’t know if I want to stay.”

His gaze narrowed and you felt your stomach clench. He looked at the necklace you’d pulled out as soon as the door was shut, at your lips where a dollop of strawberry cream still rested.

“I treat you so well, and you don’t know if you want to stay with me?”

His voice was calm, and that scared you. It would have been better if he flew off the handle.

Instead, he simply stood up and gently sent you out the door, and called the Peacekeepers to bring you back to your apartment.

Every night for the last week, you have cried yourself to sleep. Because every day for the last week, Coriolanus Snow has not sent for you. Not even once.

What if he told someone? What if you got sent back early, and your father was shamed? What if they broke his contract? Or--worse, worse, worse. There were so many worse things than merely being sent back to District 2.

And then he sent for you, and it was the longest walk of your life, though it was no farther than any of the times you’ve been escorted to your secret meetings.

This time, when you pushed open the door, Coriolanus was not alone.

There was an Avox in the room.

It was someone from District 2.

You didn’t know her. Not personally. But you saw her, before. She worked in one of the munitions factories and you watched her walk to work from your classroom window sometimes. Then she stopped showing up, and you thought perhaps she got married.

That delusion was shattered the moment you saw her, eyes downcast to the floor, wearing a simple gray tunic.

It’s not until Coriolanus tells you to hurry up and come in that you’re able to move. Even then, you weren’t sure how your body did it; how your arms managed to gain the mobility to shut the door, to twist the lock; how your legs moved, one foot in front of the other, until you were standing stiffly in front of him.

The Avox--you wish you knew her name, but she couldn’t give it to you now, even if you asked--moved seamlessly to a table set up nearby. There was tea and sweets. The sort of thing that you and Coriolanus had been enjoying together for the past few weeks. The sort of thing that you were sure would sit sour in your stomach, now.

The cup shook in your hands when she handed it to you, and your tears dripped right into the tea.

Coriolanus glanced at the Avox and waved his hand. She left obediently. She would never tell the secret she witnessed in his room, that much was certain.

And then he looked back at you.

“Don’t cry,” he said. Soft but firm. A command, not a coo. “You shouldn’t cry here, in the Capitol. You should be grateful to be here. You should be grateful that I’ve arranged all this for you.”

“I am,” you whispered.

“Then show me that you are.”

And you did.

You said what he wanted and looked to him to show you how he wanted you to act, and did just that. You didn’t argue, even to lightly banter. You kissed him and nodded along when he told you about how things would be after the Games, when he had arranged for you to stay.

All you had to do was keep him happy until the Games were over, and then you could go home.

Bitterly, all of this made you realize just how much of your father is in you; he knew how to appease the Capitol. You could do the same with Coriolanus Snow. At least until the Games were over. Just keep him happy until the Games were done and the blood was spilled, and you would go home.

They wouldn’t let him keep you here after the games. You were sure of that. You’d overheard some of Dr. Gaul’s assistants murmuring how glad they would be to send the District profiteers like your father home once the Games were over. And you? You’re just his useless daughter, an appendage he brought like an unwelcome suitcase. Why would you be allowed to stay?

The Games were over. The winner was from District 1.

You were going home any day now. Just as soon as your father finished tinkering with the designs, gave his notes on improvements that might be made for next year.

The thought gave you a delightful bounce in your step. It was like having a pat of sweet butter in your shoe on a day when you needed good luck-- District 2 superstition, although the strict rationing meant most people didn’t have even a pat to slip into their shoes anymore.

The sweetness didn’t even disappear when the Peacekeepers showed up to bring you to Snow. It was going to be a bittersweet farewell, you were sure. He might be angry. But you would kiss him and tell him that there was nothing he could do, and how sorry you were not to be able to stay, but that was how things had to be.

Except they didn’t bring you down a maze of corridors that led to a secluded room.

They brought you right into Dr. Gaul’s office.

Breakfast threatened to evacuate your stomach with every step. Not just because of nerves, but because of what you saw. Rows of experiments in glass tubes; some of them move. You walk by a room with a half-open door that showed someone strapped to a gurney, face contorted in a silent scream as they fought against restraints. You almost did lose breakfast, then.

But somehow you made it to the desk of Dr. Gaul without a dribble of vomit to show for it.

The Peacekeepers left with no fanfare and you stood there, ramrod straight. Did she know? Was she going to tell you that you were going to be strapped to one of those gurneys, now?

“I’m keenly aware,” she said, keeping her hands primly folded, “on how much you’ve enthralled my star pupil.”

Toast. That’s what will come up first, you thought . The toast.

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.” Your voice was so thin and tinny that you didn’t even believe yourself.

And then the prim facade cracked, and Dr. Gaul threw her head back and grinned.

“You really think I don’t know everything that goes on within these walls? I know every time one of my lab assistants runs into the bathroom to throw up after a particularly nasty experiment. I know every time one of our university professors sneaks into a closet to down a vial of morphling with a student. And I certainly know when my newest protege is having an adorable little District girl brought to him for… canoodling.”

You weren’t even embarrassed. No. You just felt terrified to the bone. You only hoped that you’d be killed, shot against a wall, instead of made into an Avox. Let there be some mercy in this world.

”He’s asked to keep you, you know.” Her voice was low, almost a drawl. She tapped her fingers on her desk rhythmically.

“My Coriolanus Snow wants a bird of his own.” Her smile turned darker. “Not a songbird, though. Oh, no. I think he’s had enough of those.”

Her gaze bored into yours, each color magnified by her intense expression. “I think if I let him have his pretty caged bird, he’ll be happy. He’s more productive if he’s happy.” She smiled. “I like productivity. It keeps the Games more interesting.”

She looked you over one more time, and then waved you away.

“I’ve granted his request. You’ll be staying here indefinitely, courtesy of one Mr. Snow. Your father has already been told.”

You were wrong.

It was not the toast that came up first, but the sweet butter you’d patted on top.

You still had your tongue, but you felt as though it was useless, stuck to the roof of your mouth, as Coriolanus fussed over your outfit. Or rather, as he directed an Avox to fuss over it for you. He could afford his own personal servant, now, he told you. He’d almost flinched after he said now, and you didn’t dare press him on it. Had he not been able to afford one before?

“We can’t walk arm-in-arm in public,” he said, walking around you, making sure the outfit was just-right. “But you can stand by me if I stop and direct you forward.” He reached over and fixed one of your buttons. “Don’t speak to anyone unless I’ve told you to, or they speak to you first. Always address someone older as ‘sir,’ or ‘ma’am.” He pointed at your hair, and the Avox began to fuss with it, eventually covering it in a colorful wrap that Coriolanus said was popular right now. “Address someone our age by the last name and Mr. or Ms.”

When he was satisfied with your appearance, he sent the Avox away. You liked it better that way, it was one last reminder of the horrors in the Capitol, even for someone “privileged” like you. You’d only been without your father for 3 days, but you felt like your nerves were continually on fire. You wanted to go home. You wanted your family. You wanted out of this place.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

For now, you were still living in the small university apartment the Capitol had given your father. Coriolanus insisted on it, until he could figure out how to move you into his own sprawling apartment that he shared with his cousin, Tigris (who, at least, genuinely sounded lovely) and his grandmother, Grandma’am. She was the sticking point, or so you were told, with a thin smile. She hated Districts, and she ought to, he said. They killed her son. His father.

She would hate you, too. Even if Coriolanus wanted you enough to make you stay with him; wanted you enough to keep you. But for how long? And would he change his mind, if you couldn’t fit in?

He said your name, and you snapped yourself out of your thoughts. He held you by your shoulders. Gently. Like one would an unruly child that hadn’t yet learned that there were such things as salad forks and dinner forks, as polite conversation and etiquette.

You got the feeling you wouldn’t have long to learn all of those things and more, to make him happy.

“Remember,” he said. “You’re District. You’re here because the Capitol has recognized that your loyalty can benefit us in some way. Be grateful.”

“I am,” you said, reflectively.

“Be happy..”

“I am,” you said again, your chest hitching.

He smiled at you. Was it real or not real?

You smiled back, regardless. And he liked that, evidently, because he leaned forward and kissed you. Then he scrutinized your face and wiped at your lips with his thumb--the kiss had smeared your lipstick.

“Good.”

He gestured towards the open doorway. This time, he didn’t take your arm. There would be too many people lingering in the university hallways, all making their way to the soiree held to celebrate the end of this year’s Games and discuss what improvements might be made for the next year.

You dutifully walked behind him, just like he said. And you would do exactly what he said in all respects. You would stay quiet unless you were spoken to, you would certainly never bring up anything confrontational or controversial, and you would make a good impression. You would be a loyal, grateful District citizen who was given the opportunity of a lifetime thanks to the graciousness of Coriolanus Snow.

Of course you would.

Your life depended on it.

#yandere coriolanus snow #yandere hunger games #yandere #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes #/slaps trunk #this baby can fit so many references to the books & movie in it.#... well not SO MANY #but enough

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writeforfandoms · 1 year

Text

White Flag

Find my CoD Masterlist

This was supposed to be a good day. You were on a date, it was a beautiful day outside, everything was fine.

And then you got grabbed as a hostage. The upside? You get rescued by a very handsome sergeant.

Warnings: Violence, canon-typical violence, hostage situation, non-graphic injuries, dead bodies.

Word count: 5k

You were pretty sure this ranked as the worst date you’d ever been on.

The guy (Kevin, his name was Kevin) had been nice enough. Coffee had been fine. The walk in the park had been pleasant, although that had as much to do with the nice weather as anything else.

The crazy people who brandished guns at everyone in the park and killed half a dozen people before rounding up the rest of you to shove into vans… Well. That kind of ruined the rest of the date.

Kevin had been taken too, although he wasn’t with you. The hostages (because that’s what you were now, hostages) had been split into two groups, and Kevin had been with the other group.

You had no idea if you’d ever see him again. If he was okay.

But honestly, you didn’t have much brain power to spend on him. Because your group had been rounded up into a warehouse, tied to chairs, and left there. The inside of the warehouse was hot and sticky, and the addition of fifteen bodies (ten hostages and five men with guns) quickly made the space nearly unbearably hot and smelly. A few of the hostages were weeping quietly, one not so quietly.

At least until he got pistol whipped. Then he shut up, staring vacantly into space.

Your captors honestly didn’t seem very interested in talking to you. Which was probably a good thing. You were feeling a little… floaty. Disconnected. Not all there. Your captors spoke quietly to each other in some language you couldn’t identify.

There really wasn’t anything for you to do. Which didn’t actually help with the terror or the tingling in your fingers or the panic. But it did help with the floaty feeling. As in, you stayed in the floaty feeling for a while.

Until you heard the first gunshots.

“Silence!” one of the captors hissed at the group when someone started screaming. Motioning with his gun, he seemed to send two of the other guards outside. Leaving three of them standing, two between the hostages and the front door, one in back.

And then nothing. Quiet. For long enough that two of the captors started to get antsy, shifting their weight and looking around.

You honestly couldn’t say how long the tense silence lasted, how long you sat with your heart in your throat, how long you waited.

But there were no gunshots when the two guards dropped, just blood and bodies. The last captor barely had a chance to swing his weapon around in a wild arc before he, too, dropped dead to the ground.

And then two new men walked in, wearing vests and carrying weaponry. You noticed the British flag on both of them and blinked, just once.

“Clear,” the one with the mutton chops said, lowering his weapon.

“Clear,” the other agreed. “Everyone remain calm, we’ll have you out of here soon,” he said, looking briefly at each of you. You blinked slowly when brown eyes met your own.

They each started on a hostage, getting people free in no time. “Emergency services are right outside,” brown eyes said, helping one woman to her feet.

You blinked again. Huh. Somehow the fact that you were safe hadn’t really hit yet. Was this what shock felt like? Or were you just… slow?

Half-way through the group, both men paused and exchanged looks.

“Go, Cap,” brown eyes said. “I’ve got them.”

“Stay sharp,” mutton chops murmured, clapping his friend briefly on the shoulder before he turned and left, sneaking out a side door you hadn’t even noticed before.

Brown eyes worked a little slower on his own, but not much. He still helped each person to their feet. Seven down. The eighth hostage needed no help, rushing out of the warehouse as fast as he could go.

And then you saw his gaze dart between you and the woman next to you.

“Get her,” you said softly. Your fingers were numb and your tongue felt thick, but you knew he understood you. He nodded once and stepped up to her, cutting her bonds. This close, you could hear him murmuring to her.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, voice soothing. “Just follow the others out, yeah? And then straight on to the medics.”

The woman nodded, lips trembling, blonde hair in total disarray. She did need a hand up, and she whispered her gratitude almost too softly for you to hear before she, too, left.

Leaving just you and him.

“Alright?” he asked you, still in that low, soothing murmur.

“Just peachy,” you croaked. Feeling was returning to your fingers with a vengeance now that your hands were free, and you half-way wished it wouldn’t. The pins and needles were very unpleasant. But you staggered to your feet unassisted.

"I'll walk you out," he offered, one hand tucking under your elbow.

"Thanks." You licked your lips, glancing down at the nearest body. Blood had pooled around him, a dark stain on the concrete floor.

"Don't look." Your savior tugged your arm a little, frowning when you looked at him.

"I'm not about to freak out on you," you assured him, voice still a little scratchy. "Don't worry about me."

He eyed you curiously, but never had a chance to ask the question you could see lurking in his eyes. His eyes went wide and he pulled you in close, throwing his arm up over both of your heads just as something hit the outside of the building. There was a loud noise, then cracking and shrieking of metal as part of the roof collapsed. Chunks of concrete hit the floor around you two, and you both lurched to one side.

A second explosion rocked the floor, and you tried to scramble for the door. But a third explosion caused a cave-in: the doorway crumbled and fell, and part of the floor gave way.

"Shit," he hissed, grabbing desperately for you. "Fuck!"

You grabbed him with one hand, your other scrambling for something to hold on to.

But the floor beyond you gave way, and you had a moment of horror before the floor fell away beneath the two of you.

Then there was only darkness.

You came to with a low groan, head throbbing. Your whole body ached, warning you against moving. And you wouldn't have.

Except you realized you couldn't hear anything from your new friend.

Blinking rapidly to clear your vision, you sat up slowly. Yup. Everything still hurt. But you could move! At least this much.

And you could see your friend, laying on his back just a foot away from you.

"Hey." Your voice was paper thin and raspy. You cleared your throat and tried again. "Hey!"

But he didn't move. You could see him breathing, which blocked some of the panic, but otherwise… nothing.

Okay. Okay. You needed to check on him, see if there was anything you could do to help. You were not first aid trained, but you remembered some rule about not moving people with head injuries in case of spinal trauma, or something like that. So. No dragging him to you. You had to go to him.

The space you were in now was only barely lit - it looked like light was filtering down from where the floor used to be. Which was now a pile of rubble. Honestly, it looked like you two had gotten lucky to not get squished, having landed in a mostly clear spot.

So you took a deep breath and tried to drag yourself closer on your hands.

Your howl of agony probably should have woken him, but he remained stubbornly unconscious.

Panting, blinking away tears of pain and shock, you looked down at yourself. And then slammed your eyes shut.

No. No no no. This couldn't be happening. No.

Gasping, a little dizzy, you hung your head and clenched your teeth. No. It wasn't that bad. It was fine. You'd be fine. But you still needed to check on him. You needed to remain calm until rescue arrived. That's all. You'd be fine.

You opened your eyes again but refused to look down at yourself. Instead you twisted your upper body as carefully as you could, checking the distance between you and your friend. Okay. You could just… swivel a bit and reach him. Okay. No big deal.

But you still had to move very carefully, being extra careful not to move your leg at all. You gave yourself a minute to rest once you'd done that, just breathing and staring at the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Okay. Checking him over. You could do this.

A visual inspection showed nothing. No injuries. No blood.

You were hesitant to check his head, but you did at least look. There was some blood under his head, but not a ton. And he was still breathing, so…

That was about the extent of what you could do.

You balanced your weight on one hand, reaching over to tap his cheek with one finger. "Hey. Wake up. Please wake up."

But nothing. He remained unconscious.

You hung your head again, pressing your hand over your mouth. Okay. It was fine. The lady who'd gone out ahead of you knew you were still in here. Someone would come to check the building. It would be fine. Someone would come rescue the two of you.

Okay. You could do this. You could be patient. You could keep an eye on him.

A burst of noise and static caught your attention, and you frowned. Where had that come from? You didn't see anything around you, nothing electronic… The noise came again and you swung your gaze back to your friend.

There was a radio on his vest.

You scrambled for the radio and traced the wire up to his ear, very carefully removing it and cleaning it off before sticking it in your own ear.

"Gaz, how copy?" The man on the other end sounded stiff, almost angry.

Gaz must be your new friend. You swallowed, studying the radio for a moment before you found the button that would let you talk to them. "He's unconscious," you said, voice a little shakier than you liked.

For a moment, there was absolute silence. You almost feared the radio hadn't worked.

"Who is this?" Now he sounded pissed, voice a low growl.

You swallowed again but gave him your first name. "He was with me when the floor gave out. He was trying to get me out."

Silence again, long enough this time that your hands started shaking. You didn't take your gaze off of Gaz, watching him breathe.

"Okay," the man said, speaking a little more gently now. "Where are you?"

"Under the warehouse." You didn't look up again. You couldn't.

"What's your situation?" His calm was helping you, slowing your breathing.

"Um. He's not waking up, I haven't moved him. He's not bleeding anywhere except his head, and that's already stopped. I haven't moved him."

"Good," he rumbled. "And you?"

You stalled for a moment mentally. "I'm… holding together." You clenched your jaw to keep back the probably hysterical giggle that wanted to burst out.

"I need you to inform me if you start to feel dizzy, light headed, anything like that. Can you do that?" He kept his voice steady and calm.

You breathed deeply and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do that."

"Good. Stay where you are, do not attempt to climb out yourself."

"Not a chance," you agreed, maybe only a little hysterical. You swallowed hard. Twice. "Staying put right here."

"Good. I'll update you when I can. Stay calm. We will get you out. Copy?"

"Copy." You let the radio fall to your lap. Your fingers were numb, but you couldn't tell if that was cold, blood loss, or shock.

Whatever it was, you didn't have the mental capacity to deal with it. You just focused on breathing for a little bit.

And then you tried tapping Gaz's cheek again. "Hey," you murmured, leaning very carefully down closer to him. "I'd really like it if you woke up, buddy."

He still didn't wake. Your next exhale came out shaky and wet.

"You should have just left," you whispered to him. "You didn't need to walk me out, you know." You huffed something close to a laugh. "I'd say I'd have been fine, but I probably wouldn't have been." You touched his cheek again gently, frowning just a little.

You had nothing but time at the moment so you distracted yourself by studying him. He was handsome, very much so. You thought you remembered that he had kind eyes, too.

But you really just wanted him to wake up. Any time now.

The radio crackled and you flinched at the sudden noise. "We're working on digging you out," came the man's voice, steady and calm. "I need you to watch for any shifting in the debris above you."

"Okay," you agreed, licking your lips. "Got it." You tipped your head back, watching above you. You could hear the scrape and shift of concrete and metal now, sending your heart pounding faster. But nothing moved above you, only bits of dust falling through the cracks.

Gaz groaned softly and you immediately dropped your gaze to him, one hand fluttering over his chest.

"Easy does it," you murmured, watching him anxiously. "Don't try to get up yet."

His eyes fluttered a few times before he finally opened them fully, looking up at you. "What…?" He blinked slowly.

"We fell," you told him, hand pressing lightly on his chest. "Your friends are working on getting us out, but I need you to stay still."

He was quiet for a few moments, looking at you. "Okay," he agreed, a little hoarse.

Dust filtered down to the two of you, and you wrenched your gaze up, a little panicked. But everything looked okay, nothing looked in danger of moving.

Honestly, you weren't sure how comforting that actually was, considering at least some of that stuff would have to move in order for you and Gaz to get out.

"Watch that block," Gaz piped up, nearly giving you a heart attack. But you spotted the one he was concerned about and frowned, eyeing the pieces around it.

His worry proved to be completely founded when that chunk started sliding as something else was moved.

"Wait," you yipped, briefly scrambling for the radio. "Hang on, there's a piece shifting down here."

"Where?"

"Uh." You eyed the distance, frowning. "Maybe four feet to my left? It's a big piece, maybe two feet by six feet, rebar sticking out of it."

There was a soft grunt. "I see it," he agreed. "Keep an eye on it."

You swallowed but watched. That piece shifted a bit, and then slowly lifted up and out of place. You breathed out slowly, the new gap allowing more light into the space. You refused to look down at yourself, instead taking the chance to look at Gaz again.

"Is that Price?" He asked softly when you looked at him.

"I dunno," you answered honestly. "He didn't give me a name."

"Give me the radio." He held out one hand with a little smile. "Won't move yet, I promise."

You hesitated for a moment but handed over the radio, cleaning off the earpiece for him. His eyes crinkled with his smile, and you couldn't help but smile in return, though you were sure yours was small and shaky in comparison.

"Cap," Gaz said. Then he huffed a little laugh. "Not broken yet, sir."

You looked away, slumping forward to give yourself a little break. Twisting that way had done nothing for your ribs, and you still ached everywhere. But at least breathing was no problem.

"Think I'm alright," Gaz said from behind you. Then he huffed. "Alright, yeah, apart from the concussion."

Right. Concussion. You wouldn't be surprised if you had one of those too. The whole falling through the floor thing tended to not be kind to bodies.

"Right. We'll sit tight here then." Gaz sounded amused so things couldn't be that awful.

"Just have to wait for rescue?" You asked, glancing back at him over your shoulder.

"Pretty much." His eyes closed again and he breathed slowly. "You doing alright?"

"As well as can be expected." You breathed in slowly, lifting your gaze to the rubble above the two of you again. "Not exactly how I expected today to go."

He chuckled quietly. "I bet." One of his hands touched your arm, and you looked back at him to find compassionate eyes already fixed on you. "You're doing really well. Being very brave."

You smiled, lifting your hand to take his. "Oh, I'm definitely still freaking out, but I couldn't freak out and keep an eye on you."

He laughed quietly. "Being brave doesn't mean you're not scared, just means you're not letting that stop you."

"Well, you'd know better than I would." You squeezed his hand gently. "How are you feeling? Really."

"Head is killing me," he admitted easily, eyes closing again. "Don't think there's anything else wrong, though. Everything hurts, which means I can feel everything."

"Well that's one way to find a silver lining." You licked your lips. "You're gonna take time to recover after this, right? Concussions are no joke, and you were unconscious for a while."

His hand squeezed yours, thumb rubbing across your skin. It was… incredibly soothing, actually. "I promise," he agreed. "Captain will make sure of it."

"Good. I'm glad." You winced when another piece of rubble shifted and then lifted away.

"You have anyone to help you? After this?"

"Physically or mentally?" You asked, aiming for glib but hitting melancholy.

"Both." His tone shifted to something a little more soothing.

You swallowed and shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I live alone. But it's fine, work will let me take a little time off for this."

His hand tightened around yours. "You should give me your number."

"What?" You blinked, looking back at him, eyes wide.

"So we can keep each other company while we're recovering." He smiled up at you, eyes crinkling, warm and almost fond.

"That sounds like the concussion talking." You leaned back to get closer to him, concerned.

"It's not." He lifted his free hand, hesitating before he touched your cheek, feather light. "It's okay if you don't want to. But I'd love to talk to you more." He grinned suddenly. "Especially when we're not both stuck somewhere."

You huffed a little laugh, leaning your cheek very carefully into his hand. "If you still want my number when we're out of here, I'll give it to you," you agreed.

"I'll hold you to that." He rubbed his thumb over the apple of your cheek, and your eyes fluttered closed for a moment. This was probably a terrible idea, but it had been a terrible day and you wanted something comforting. Right at that moment, Gaz was your only option. Then his hand left your cheek and you blinked your eyes open to see him press on his radio. "Copy. How long do you think?"

You sat up again, clearing your throat. The hole up above you was bigger now, but still not big enough to get out of. They were definitely making progress though, and you'd take it.

"Rog. We're alright here." His hand squeezed yours, a comforting reminder that you weren't alone. And a less than comforting reminder that nobody else was aware of your full situation just yet.

"Good news?" You asked, forcing yourself to keep watching the hole in the ceiling.

"They're pausing to assess the rubble," Gaz admitted. "But Price doesn't think it will be a long delay."

"Okay." You breathed in deep and then carefully laid back, keeping hold of Gaz's hand.

"Tired?"

"A bit." You shrugged, grimacing at the feel of grit under your shoulders. "What's your favorite color?"

"What?" He sounded startled.

"I need something to distract me, and at the moment you're it. Plus you're not supposed to sleep after a concussion like that, right? So really I'm doing us both a favor." You tipped your head to shoot him a cheeky grin.

He chuckled. "And that's the best you could come up with?"

"You got a better suggestion?"

"Yeah." He shifted carefully so he could meet your gaze more easily. "Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

"I'm not that interesting," you demurred, warming and looking away.

"I don't care." He squeezed your hand, tugging gently until you looked at him again. "Tell me whatever you're comfortable with."

You blinked but started speaking, quietly, slowly at first. But the lack of judgment from him made you more comfortable. And he asked good questions, keeping you talking.

At least until someone called down to the two of you.

"Doin' alright down there?" This voice was new, with a Scottish accent.

"We're good," Gaz called back. "Thirsty, though."

"We're almost ready to come get you," the Scot said, sounding amused. "Won't be long."

You breathed out slowly. You should say something. You should tell them. They were going to find out sooner or later, as soon as they sent someone down for the two of you. You needed to tell them.

"Hey, hey," Gaz murmured, alarmed. "Sweetheart. Look at me."

Your eyes opened - when had you even closed them? Your breath hitched when you looked at Gaz, concern writ large on his face.

"It's okay. It'll be okay. They're almost to us, yeah? We won't be here much longer." He tugged your hand, linking his fingers with yours. "C'mere, sweetheart."

Your breath hitched again, and you realized with dim surprise that you were crying. And had been for at least a minute, based on the dampness of your cheeks. "I… can't."

"What?" He sat up a little and then froze. Completely froze. Then he swallowed, hard enough you could see his Adam's apple bob. "Oh, sweetheart."

You closed your eyes again, holding tight to his hand as the panic resurfaced. This was so bad, you knew it was so bad, but you'd been doing so well at not thinking about it.

"Captain, we have a problem." Gaz had steadied his voice, at least.

But his captain didn't respond on the radio as you'd expected. "What kind of problem?" He sounded closer than you expected, and a quick peek up showed that he was crouching near the edge of the hole.

"She's got a piece of rebar through her calf," Gaz replied. "Mid-way down. Goes all the way through."

"Fucking hell." Price shifted his weight, coming a little nearer to the edge. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

You swallowed hard. "Couldn't," you muttered, hoping Gaz would pass along the message for you. But you couldn't make your voice any louder. "There was nothing I could do and I couldn't think about it without freaking out."

Gaz did indeed relay your words, his thumb stroking soothingly over the back of your hand.

Price exhaled hard. "We'll figure it out when we get down there," he decided. "Twenty minutes."

"Copy that." Gaz didn't release you, instead scooting over closer to you. "Hear that? They're almost ready. We'll make sure you get out of here. Okay?"

"Okay," you agreed, voice small. A deep breath and you were able to nod. "But you better not be doing anything to aggravate your head."

"I'm not," he soothed. "Can you sit up for me?"

You sniffled once but sat up, refusing to let go of his hand. He didn't even try, just smiling at you.

"There we go." His free hand lifted to your face, wiping the tears from your cheeks. "How do you feel?"

You gave the question a moment of thought. "Tired. Sore." You glanced down at your leg and immediately away again. "Scared."

He wordlessly tucked your head down against his shoulder. "We'll be okay," he whispered, like if he believed it hard enough he could bend the universe to his will. "We both will."

You sat there quietly, soaking up the comfort he freely offered, starting to shiver a little. You had no idea what time it was, and big lights had been set up above, so you had no natural light to work off of. But the temperature was dropping.

Either that or you were still losing blood, which was a very scary possibility.

"Coming down," Price called. You opened your eyes to watch him come down a rope, landing in a clear spot near your feet. Oh. He was muttonchops from earlier in the day. He looked between the two of you before he moved next to Gaz, kneeling. "Sitrep?"

"I'm alright," Gaz murmured. "Head hasn't fallen off yet."

"Cheeky." But Price's lips twitched in a smile. "We'll get you up first."

"No."

Price paused, raising one eyebrow at Gaz's blunt refusal. Some form of communication passed between the two, although you couldn't follow it. But it ended with Price blowing out a breath through his nose and nodding once. Then he stood and moved down by your feet, examining your leg and the piece of rebar. "Have you tried moving?"

It took you a moment to realize he was talking to you. "Only once." You shrugged.

He nodded, brow pulled into a tight furrow as he leaned further down. "Right." He sat back on his heels. "Soap, bring down the bolt cutters."

Another man joined you three in the hole, mohawk a bit disheveled and dusty. "Alright?" He asked, smiling easily at you.

"Oh, you know," you managed, flapping one hand.

He just nodded and crouched down next to Price, handing over the bolt cutters.

"Hey," Gaz whispered, tugging your hand gently. "Don't look at them. Focus on me, yeah?"

"Okay." You swallowed but obediently kept your gaze on him, trying not to listen to the quiet discussion taking place by your feet. "What are you going to do with your unplanned vacation?"

He smiled a little. "I've got a few ideas," he murmured. "There's this girl, yeah? Don't know her well yet but I'd love to spend time getting to know her." He winked at you.

You laughed a little, feeling heat rush to your face. "I dunno, she could be some crazy person."

"I don't think so." His gaze was warm as he smiled at you, leaning in a little closer. "She might be lacking a sense of self-preservation, though."

"You… might be right." You dropped your gaze, feeling shaky again. Your sharp inhale had nothing to do with emotion and everything to do with your leg moving as the rebar was cut loose from the cement below.

"That part's done," Price said, probably a little louder than he needed to. "Next step is getting you up there."

You eyed the rope warily. "I hope you've got a plan."

"You won't have to do anything," Price assured you. "We'll get a harness on you and hoist you up."

"Joy." But your voice wavered, and you held Gaz's hand too tightly. He smoothed his thumb over your knuckles.

"They've got you, sweetheart," he murmured. "Promise."

"Okay." You took a deep breath and nodded once.

Truthfully, you had to do very little. They worked together to get the harness on you, and Soap steadied you as you were hoisted up. More hands grabbed you at the top, and you barely had time to wince in pain before you were on a stretcher.

"Wait," you begged the paramedic before he could start to move the stretcher. "I want to make sure my friend gets up okay."

His gaze softened and he nodded. "Okay," he agreed. "But I'm gonna move you back here out of the way, don't need anyone bumping into you."

You nodded, watching eagerly until Gaz appeared. He was a little pale but otherwise okay, and he even managed to get to the stretcher partially under his own power.

Relieved, you relaxed back against your stretcher and nodded. Okay. You were satisfied.

It wasn't until sometime the next day as you were waking up properly for the first time since you'd gone into surgery that you remembered you were supposed to give him your phone number.

Not that you actually had time to mourn the loss of… whatever that may have been. The nurse had just left after checking on you when there was a knock on the door, and then it swung open slowly.

Gaz absolutely beamed at you from his spot in a wheelchair, Soap behind him pushing him further in.

"You're here," you whispered, eyes wide, one hand reaching for him without permission.

"Price insisted on overnight observation," Gaz said, taking your hand as soon as he was close enough. "Since I was unconscious for a while."

"And you're okay?" You looked him over quickly, biting your lip.

"I will be." He leaned closer, his other hand covering yours.

"Good." You relaxed a little, smiling finally. "That's good."

"Shout when you need a lift," Soap said, tapping Gaz's shoulder before backing towards the door. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." And he was gone, cackling, before Gaz could properly turn around to glare at him.

You huffed a laugh, leaning closer to him. "I'm glad you're okay," you whispered, a bit abashed.

"I'm glad you'll be okay." He closed the distance, leaning in until he could press his forehead to yours.

"Yeah." You smiled. "I will be." It was the first time you'd really believed that since you'd been grabbed in the park.

You knew exactly how you wanted to thank the reason for your confidence, too.

#gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #f!reader

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tieronecrush · 7 months

Text

hot & heavy

chapter fourteen: stuck forever by the glue

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 7.4k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), feeling familial and self-pressure, established relationship, spanish cause joel is latino, soft joel, very minimal like sweetie possessive joel, struggling with self, discussion of parenting, this is honestly just an ooey gooey syrupy sweet chapter y'all

a/n: this is so wild. it's done! (basically....epilogue to come) i seriously can't express how much it means to me that y'all read and kept up with and cared about my little story. i have fallen in love with writing and i just really thank you all for everything you've given me! i feel so lucky to have so many incredible, talented, all-star humans reading something silly i've made. THANK YOU.

and an extra special thanks to el @northernbluess who has been such a big support throughout my process of writing this story. she's beta-read nearly every single chapter and has helped me so much in developing the characters and the story and just everything. can't write without you, el. love you!

alright, enough from me - enjoy joel & mariposa's ending! and please drop any thoughts or scenarios or milestones you want to see for them in the epilogue into my inbox!!!

“Fuck, oh shit, Joel!”

You’re whisper-yelling as you scramble to throw his comforter off of you, kicking it away from your feet and jumping out of bed. One arm moves up to cover your chest as you whirl around the room looking for your clothes. As you slip your panties up your legs and let them snap against your hips, Joel stirs awake enough to pick his head up, glancing around in a daze.

“What is happening? What’s wrong?” he groggily asks, turning over from lying on his tummy to his back, arm bending to rest against his forehead and shielding his eyes from the early summer morning light peeking through the curtains.

Puffing out a breath to blow the hair from your face, hands occupied with attempting to clasp your bra behind your back, you shoot him a look.

“Check the time,” you order flatly, nodding your chin to his alarm clock at the bedside.

After a delayed beat, Joel’s head turns, studying the display before his bed shoots back to look at you, arm dropped from his head. With his eyebrows raised and mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape, he chuckles quietly at your distress.

Amid your activities from the night before, much like the last week of nights spent with Joel, the alarm on his side had forgotten to be set. Normally, you would brush it off, so long as the two of you were up in time for work, which Sarah usually made sure of thanks to her promptness, even as a ten-year-old.

But today, no, today was a weekend and also the day of the neighborhood’s annual block party and summer barbecue. And you had promised — assured — your mother that you would be up and at ‘em early to help her prep all the food she promised to make and to help decorate the street and all the tables.

Joel had promised — assured — that he set the alarm last night before the two of you started fooling around, distraction imminent for the man with his wandering hands and blood pumping. Turns out, you were apparently too tempting, and too exhausting, of a time to focus on anything else.

“Darlin’, it’ll be fine. Doubt your mom has even noticed your absence, she’s probably so busy already she’s just fluttering around your house.” Joel’s face returns to a drowsy expression, one eyebrow quirking up for a moment as you angrily groan at your t-shirt when struggling to find the head hole with it pulled over your head all lopsided.

He rises from the bed, padding over to you and reaching up to pause your frantic hands. Slow moving, he rights the material and gently tugs it down, revealing your frustrating and pouty look.

Joel coaxes your arms out of their stubborn crossed position over your chest, aiding them into the holes and fully pulling the t-shirt down. Fingers graze the top of your panties from underneath your cotton shirt, satisfied smirk when he feels goosebumps rise.

“She may not notice, but my Dad, who’s probably doing nothing, will notice and tell my mom. And she’ll tell him to go downstairs and check on me.” You swat his hands away gently, stepping backward and turning your head this way and that way to find your shorts. “And if he goes downstairs, and I’m not there, but then magically appear minutes later from my studio, well, I think they’ll clock that something’s up.”

Thick arms wrap around your waist, freezing you in place. One hand gently grips the tip of your chin between his index and thumb, tilting your head to look into his eyes.

“It’ll be fine, Mari baby. You’ll get home and you’ll go upstairs and they won’t even know you were gone for a second.” Joel punctuates his reassurances with a kiss, rubbing slow circles in your lower back.

“You are extremely calm in this situation. Why aren’t you more stressed out than me?” you interrogate, raising one brow and pursing your lips. He chuckles and shrugs, incredibly nonchalant, before pecking your lips once more.

“S’cause I woke up with you next to me.” The grin is evident in his next kiss, pulling one from you no matter how much you fight it. “Plus, had some pretty great sex last night.”

“Oh my god, okay, I’m leaving. Such an idiot—” you smack his arm playfully and untangle from his arms, “ruining a perfectly sweet, wholesome moment.”

“Didn’t ruin anything. Y’know you were thinkin’ the same thing,” he counters as he throws on boxers, following you out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

You glance over your shoulder, shooting him an eye roll while biting back a smile. Padding quickly into the kitchen, you slip your shoes on from where they sit next to the back door, turning toward Joel in a rush as he strides over to you. Still sleepy eyes take you in, grabby hands finding your waist and pulling you in tight to his chest while you groan.

“J, baby, I gotta go.” He buries his head in your neck, shaking it enough for his messy curls to brush against your skin in a tickle. “I’ll see you later, okay? We jus’ have to make it through the party, and then I’m all yours. Deal?”

Lifting his head with an elongated sigh, he nods subtly and sneaks a quick kiss, “Deal. But I kind of don’t want to share you with the whole neighborhood tonight. Wish it was jus’ you and me.”

“Me too, baby, but we’ll survive. We’ve made it this long, haven’t we?” Fingers glide through his hair, pushing it up off his forehead. Before you step back and reach for the door, he pulls you in again, one hand finding your jaw to hold you there as he gives you a slow, syrupy, toe-curling kiss. The linger of it tickles your lips when he pulls away, a drowsy, beaming smile filling his face.

“Love you, Mari baby. See you later.”

“Love you more, J. See y’all later.” One last effort breaks you free of him, slipping out the door with him still on your tail, large palm making contact with your ass in a smack. A look back at him gives you a wink and smirk in return, Joel’s wide frame filling the threshold as you descend his deck stairs and scurry across your lawn to make it home in time.

God, you’re too old to be sneaking around with your boyfriend.

But damn, if he doesn’t make it fun.

Late afternoon, when the sticky, humid air has cooled down only fractions from the peak of the day, the whole onslaught of the neighborhood gathers on your cul-de-sac. Lawn games litter front yards of everyone around, the food tables set up between your driveway and Joel’s. Two grills are lit and manned on the asphalt in front of your garage, barely enough space to cook all the food that could feed an entire army, plus all of your neighbors.

The skirt of your baby blue sundress swishes against your thighs as you flutter around the folding tables set out to frame the street. Borrowed, mismatched tablecloths have been blanketed over the surfaces, and it’s been your latest task to arrange simple centerpieces of wildflowers from your garden beds built by Joel, and vases pulled from the backs of cabinets in your house. With every inch of your movement, your eyes flicker to track Joel’s, licking your lips as you watch the fabric of his muted blue t-shirt pull and strain across his shoulder blades. The hair at the back of his neck curled more from the perspiration that he was building while carrying coolers full of ice, beer, sodas, and water all about the street.

While putting the finishing touches on the last centerpiece, it seems that when you look up again, the whole neighborhood has shown up all at once. Joel’s gone from your line of sight, and you resign to finding the nearest cold beer and being pulled into a conversation with Mrs. Clarke and some of her book club ladies from the street over that you don’t know as well. They fuss over you, admiring your dress and your hair, and commenting repeatedly about ‘how gorgeous and youthful’ you are. As you open your mouth to accept the compliments again with a polite ‘thank you’, a familiar voice cuts in from over your shoulder.

“Excuse me, ladies, I hate to interrupt y’all but I was hoping to steal her away for a bit. Kind of need a partner for some cornhole and we’ve got a winning streak to maintain.” Joel shoots all of the older women a charming grin when you turn to your side to see him, his eyes finding yours for a split second.

“Oh, god, another one of you youngin’ neighbors! I have been loving to see so many new folks move in and all you kids that have returned. It is so lovely,” Mrs. Clarke shares, nodding her head with a mischievous grin toward Joel, “Y’know, y’all are pretty handsome together. Maybe it’s just 'cause y’all are young and beautiful still!”

Mrs. Clarke and the other women laugh, a wide smile on your face as you shake your head, “C’mon, Mrs. Clarke, you’re beautiful — Joel’s actually been tellin’ me he’s got a crush on a neighbor, my bets are on you.”

She laughs again, waving off the compliments, “Well I wouldn’t go gambling if that’s how you bet, sugar. I think you’d be at the top of all the lists if you ask everyone here; you’ve been the talk of the neighborhood since you came back from that big ol’ city you were in. Everybody’s been saying how you are still such a sweet girl, but I can tell something’s different. In a good way.”

She shoots you a wink and you soak in the sentiments, looking over to Joel when he cuts in again.

“I think I’d agree with ya, ma’am. Definitely different in a good way. Like whiskey in a teacup.” The look in his eyes is filled with the silent affection that his words coil around, saying all that he can’t say at the moment. Instead, he wraps up the conversation for you, thanking the four women before letting you step ahead of him, his hand barely ghosting over your back in what would look to be an innocent gesture.

“Now did you really want to play bags or was that just an excuse?” you tease, taking a sip of your drink while you two wander over to the game set up in the grass.

Joel shrugs, smile toying at his lips, “Had to be able to find a way to sweet talk my crush now, didn’t I?”

A roll of your eyes and growing smirk encourages him, nudging your side with his elbow, “Y’think Mrs. Clarke is gonna go around gossipin’ about us when the whole neighborhood finds out I’ve got a crush on you and not her?”

“Oh definitely. Lived here my whole life, that woman knows everybody’s business before they know it themselves. Don’t be surprised if she’s told everybody you’re in love with me by the time this evening’s wrappin’ up.” Squatting down, Joel gathers up the bean bags from the surface of the handbuilt gameboards, handing you the green while he takes the yellow.

As he deposits them one by one in your open palm, he shoots you a genuine, shy smile. “Well, wouldn’t be a lie so I guess it would jus’ help me out. Maybe we should tell Mrs. Clarke and then everybody will know tonight.”

“Haha. Very funny, Miller,” you reply dryly, shooting him a playfully annoyed look before starting the game between the two of you.

The back-and-forth flows easily for the two of you, both in gameplay and banter. At the game-point throw, you sink it in the hole, cheering for yourself when you nail the score of exactly twenty-one. Joel tosses his own, flicking his wrist only slightly at the last moment to scratch the throw, leaving you victorious. He smiles to himself as he watches you eagerly clap for yourself, turning to him and nodding toward the spread of food that was finally laid out.

You’re so beautiful.

The look you’re giving him sends a jolt into his spine, fuzzing his brain while the butterfly in his chest rapidly pumps its wings.

“C’mon, let's eat. All that losin’ probably worked up an appetite for you.” Without clasping around his, your hand brushes your fingers against the back of his palm. The softness leaves an itch on his skin, his nerves simply jumping for the chance to touch you. You lead confidently while he trails behind in your wake, observing as everyone sends you a smile or a greeting that you return right back with a glow.

He’d follow you anywhere.

And he knows how damn lucky he is that you’re willing to let him.

It’s what he can’t help but continue to think about as the night rolls on, watching you from his place at a table with a handful of the guys from the neighborhood, including your dad and brother, and Tommy, who stopped over after his own plans for the evening went belly up. While he nurses the beer from the glass bottle in his hand, you are bouncing with a baby on your hip to the beat of the song playing over the speakers. It’s the kid you nanny, having taken her from her parents to let them eat and enjoy a moment of calmness with everyone while you keep the young one entertained.

The happy baby babbles in your arms as you dance with her subtly, standing in a small group of other neighbors. It’s so natural for you, the way you’re nurturing and easily adapting to having a little human attached to your side. He can’t shake the way his body is begging him to get up and go over to you, wanting to help you, to play pretend for a moment that it’s an addition to your little family in your arms.

He nearly stumbles over himself to get out of his seat when Sarah pulls you away from the group, thanking his daughter inside his head for giving him the perfect excuse to be close to you in the moment. Tommy chuckles to himself when he follows where Joel’s gaze is aimed, shaking his head subtly at his older brother’s obvious stare.

Joel doesn’t pay him any mind as he walks over toward you and Sarah, brushing against your side as he folds forward at his waist to press a kiss to the top of his daughter’s curly hair. The baby is babbling again in your arms, wiggling and mouthing on her hand while she stares at Joel. He shoots her a smile, opening and closing his fingers in a loose fist to wave.

“Hey there, little one. Now who’s this?” he asks, eyes finding your face while you grin at the happy baby girl in your arms.

“This is Amelia. She’s Brian and Steph’s daughter, the one I’ve been nannying this summer since Steph’s gone back to work,” you adjust her again and Joel nods, reaching out absentmindedly to lay a hand on Sarah’s head.

“Isn’t she so cute, Daddy?” Sarah laughs quietly when Amelia squeals excitedly. Her hand tugs on Joel’s shirt to grab his attention back from staring at you, eyebrows raised, and the same look on her face that she gets when she desperately wants a toy from the store. “I want to get a baby!”

He nearly chokes on his breath when he rushes to respond, hearing your quiet giggle as he coughs before clearing his throat. Addressing Sarah, he gives her an understanding smile, “Babies are pretty cute, aren’t they? But you’ll need to be much, much older until you can get a baby, mija. Like you’ll need to be Posey’s age or even better, you can be Daddy’s age and get a baby for yourself, alright?”

“That’s not very fun. You’re old, I don’t wanna wait that long. It’s like an eternity,” she replies bluntly, causing you to laugh and Joel to shoot you a warning look before he returns to Sarah.

“Trust me, Bug, it’s not that long in the grand scheme of things. Before I know it, you’ll be out of my house and I’ll be even more ancient, apparently, and you’ll have your own babies. All in due time, mija. Don’t wish away your life.” He pats her curls while she stands, thought clearly turning in her head.

A lightbulb goes off and she gasps, clapping her hands together as she says only to the two of you, “I know! You can get another baby, Daddy, and then I’ll have a cute one to play with. You can get one with Posey.”

Sarah beams with what seems like a completely genius idea to her, waiting for a response or a plan of action to get this all set in motion for her. You laugh again, stepping in when Joel can’t seem to find the right words to say.

He doesn’t want to outwardly deny it. Definitely doesn’t want you to think that is something he wouldn’t want. He’s told you as much.

But he also doesn’t want to step in any hot water, doesn’t want to put his foot in his mouth if it really is something you haven’t thought about much.

“That is such a smart idea, Sare-Bear,” you grin comfortingly and reach out a free hand to brush her hair back, “Y’know who else you could ask to have a baby? Uncle Tommy. Why don’t you go ask him why he doesn’t have a girlfriend so that he can give you a cousin?”

Sarah giggles and matches your mischievous energy, scampering off to go wholesomely harass her uncle. You turn to Joel, your face twisting into curiosity when you can’t read the look on his face.

“What? Should I have explained where babies come from to her or something instead? Was it a bad idea to sick her on Tommy?”

“No, not at all. To answer both your questions,” he bites back from absolutely beaming, turning his gaze to baby Amelia’s chubby cheeks when his voice drops to a level only audible to you standing inches from him, “Would you?”

“Would I what?” Your head tilts to the side, adjusting Amelia on your hip and hiking her up. Joel opens his mouth to clarify his question when Steph sidles up next to you, thanking you profusely while she takes her daughter back into her arms. The interaction warms Joel’s blood in his veins, the wings of the butterfly pushing the rattle of nerves into his throat.

Everyone loves you so much here, and you really do have love for everyone.

A fucking solid gold heart inside of you and Joel can’t believe you’ve given even a piece, a sliver, of it to him to safeguard.

Turning your attention back to him when the two of you are left alone, you lift the corner of your lip up in an anxious comfort, “So, would I what?”

“Would you have a kid? With me. Would you have a kid with me?” It all rushes out, words blending together but you understand all the same. A quiet laugh rolls from your chest, skyrocketing his worry in the moment before you shake your head and give his bicep a quick, but reassuring squeeze.

“Course I would, J. Don’t think anything would make me happier.” Your eyes sparkle in the setting sunlight, the solid and steady beat of his heart surely heard over the music and noise by everyone around you both. Pressing his lips together to restrain himself, he nods slowly and attempts to remain casual.

“I wanna kiss you so fucking much right now, Mari.”

“I want that, too. But I think Mrs. Clarke would be jealous. Stealin’ you away from her.” The joke breaks the tension, sending him into a small fit of laughter, shaking his head at your ridiculousness.

“Guess I better go ask Mrs. Clarke the same question then, huh? Keep my options open.”

“Better go. Give her enough time to tell Mr. Clarke she’s running away with the neighbor forty years younger than her.”

“Definitely think that’d go over better than you, the beloved, sweet neighborhood girl, running away with me.”

“Oh hush, doesn’t matter how well it’d go over. Jus’ matters if we can run fast enough away from the angry mob that’s gonna come after ya.” You wink and laugh again, your head shaking back and forth before it whips in the direction of your mom calling your name. Another soft and subtle touch is fleetingly felt against his skin, turning over your shoulder to mouth a quick ‘love you’ to him as you walk away.

He returns it before searching around to fill his hands before returning back to the table and sitting down next to his brother. Joel sets the full beer bottle next to his half-full one, eyes still trained on you before Tommy grabs his attention with a hard jab to his side and snags the full beer.

“So why the hell is my niece asking me when I’m gonna get a girlfriend so I can have a baby?”

Night has overtaken the sky, with sprinklings of stars and a waxing moon as its centerpieces. Everyone along the road has turned on their porch lights, extra portable camping lights, and hanging lanterns brought out to make enough light to continue the party. The handful of neighborhood kids run around to catch fireflies while the adults either stand around in conversations or gather in the open space between all of the tables to dance. Your parents, ever the hosts that they are, have popped back into the house to gather more drinks and desserts for everyone. Wrapped up in a chat about a potential hire for a job with a guy from a few streets over, Joel hasn’t paid mind to where you’re at or if Sarah’s running along with the other kids. He shakes the man’s hand and promises to stop by when he can during the week to check out exactly what the job would entail and if his guys can get it done.

Turning away, the sight of you is perfectly framed by warm lights, a tunnel of everything else fading away while he observes you from across the street. The mop of curls he loves dearly bounces around with you, your hands holding Sarah’s and spinning her around the dancefloor. His daughter’s laughter hits his ears over the sound of the music, tugging a smile onto his face that nearly matches your beaming grin.

This whole night, he hasn’t been able to stay away from you long. And he hasn’t been able to shake the feeling of how desperate he is to stay in your pull, to be able to make you smile and laugh, to make you happy.

You do so much for others, offering a hand or making them smile with your genuine care and humor. Everyone is so drawn to you, he’s not the only one who wants to have you around. And he knows about what you’re going through behind closed doors, the things you tell him about when no one else will listen or understand. The same things he heard from you when you were thousands of miles away, voice crackling over the phone. All he wants to do is to be there for you, to show you the same kindness that you show him, that you show everyone you encounter.

Ever since he met you, he’s never wanted to be apart from you. But he didn’t trust himself not to make selfish decisions, so he pushed you away that first summer, and let you go the second. Now, with no endings in sight at the end of summer, anything is possible.

One thing’s for sure though — he’s tired of hiding.

All it does is take up more energy that he could be giving to you, to Sarah, to a better future for all of you.

And fuck’s sake, if he doesn’t want everyone to know that you chose him. The best person he knows — has ever known — chose him and continues to choose him, to forgive him, to love him. He doesn’t know what the future holds, doesn’t know what everything will look like for y’all in a week, in a year, in a decade, but all he can say is that whatever it all entails, however much it scares him, he wants you there by his side. He needs you.

Without a second thought, he moves toward you as the song changes, depositing his nearly empty drink on the nearest table. Swiping his clammy hands on his jeans as he walks, he takes a deep breath before he taps you on the shoulder. He shoots Sarah a wink over your shoulder while you turn around, her giggle bringing a lopsided grin to his face.

“Oh, Joel, what’s up?” you ask casually, cocking an eyebrow up in confusion.

He addresses Sarah in the next moment, putting on a formal tone and clearing his throat, “Excuse me, Miss Sarah, but would you mind if I steal Mariposa away for a dance?”

“Of course not, Daddy!” she grins widely, showing off her missing tooth that came out a few nights ago, “Have fun, Posey!”

Sarah scurries off to find her friends from the neighborhood, and Joel holds his hand out with a soft smirk. Utterly puzzled, you glance around before focusing back on Joel at the sound of his voice.

“May I have this dance, Mari?”

You’re surprised, stumbling out a response as you tentatively place your hand in his, “Yes, I mean — yes, but — What are you doing, J?”

With your hand in his, he leads you further into the couples dancing along to the sweetly slow love song playing. In the middle, he stops and faces you, keeping your hand in his, holding them up close with a bent elbow while his other finds your waist and pulls you in closer. The two of you start to sway and Joel’s lips settle next to your ear while you dance.

“Joel, everyone’s staring…and talking amongst themselves. What are you doing?” you ask in a hushed voice, pulling away to look into his eyes. Anxiety flashes in yours and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze before replying.

“M’letting go, mi amor. Let ‘em stare,” he replies, the corners of his lips rising in a tender grin. He slips his hand from yours, fingers trailing down your arm to bring it to rest on his shoulder like your other one. Both of his hands spread across your hips, pressing into the fabric of your dress and pushing around to settle at your lower back.

“But they’re gonna start spreading shit and I know you weren’t ready before to tell anyone else — my parents might be around, J. I don’t want you to do this if you aren’t ready, or if you’re just doing this for me.”

He leans closer, tilting his head down to lay his forehead against yours. Holding your eyes, he speaks quietly, voice rasping with the strain of the volume and the emotion coating his words, “El amor es ciego, pero los vecinos no. (Love is blind, but the neighbors aren’t.) There’s always going to be people to gossip, or to whisper about us. All that matters to me is what you think, and how you feel. I want to be able to tell everyone that you’re mine, and I’m yours. I’m so lucky, and I am so proud to be your partner in life, Mari baby. M’tired of trying to predict what the future’s gonna be for us, and m’tired of trying to keep the reality of life away from us. Truth is, I don’t think there’s anything that life could throw at me or you that we couldn’t get through together. I need you there, always, sweet girl. Todo va a salir bien. Everything will work out.”

“I-God, I don’t even know what to say…” Tears well at your waterline, none daring to fall over the edge while you attempt to remain composed for the crowd that is surely watching everything happening. “All I can think about is how much I love you, Joel. And I want all of the same things, and I know that with you, we can handle whatever life has planned for us.”

“I love you too, baby. Te amo siempre, mi Mariposa. (I love you always, my Mariposa).”

The song’s last few notes fade out, some of the couples filtering out of the dance floor when the music changes over. After another short peck from Joel, the bubble the two of you were in dissolves when Sarah runs up, asking Joel if she can have another cookie. He gives her the quick go-ahead, watching her rush off as quickly as she came, and suddenly you’re reminded you’re in the middle of the whole neighborhood.

No one says anything as you lead Joel away, hand-in-hand. But a few looks are exchanged and the eyes of everyone feel hot on your neck. A glance around proves your parents aren’t outside still, and your stomach flips with the real possibility that someone, particularly nosey neighbors, may have beaten you to the punch in terms of telling them about you and Joel.

Tugging him from a good few steps ahead, Joel widens his strides to catch up easily as you beeline toward your garage, the mechanical door wide open for people to come and go as needed. You stop in your tracks right in front of the door to the inside, taking a deep breath before turning around to face Joel.

“Alright, it’s now or never, J. Either we’re the ones to tell our parents, or they find out from Mrs. Clarke’s book club that we were on the dancefloor and kissin’ each other and—”

Joel interrupts your ramblings with a gentle chuckle, tilting his head to the side as he looks over your face before locking his eyes with yours.

“So are we the ones meant to be saying we were on the dancefloor and kissin’ each other?” he asks with a smirk, one eyebrow raising in question.

“Oh, c’mon, Joel.”

“M’kiddin’, Mari. It’s now or never, and I am not a man that says never. So lead the way, sweet girl.” He gestures to the door behind you, a genuine smile on his face quelling your heightened nerves.

If you could read his mind, you know he’s freaking out right now.

But no, instead he’s keeping it cool on the outside, trying to be a calming presence for your own anxious thoughts.

Can’t help but ask himself questions. What if your parents get upset or angry? What if they dismiss it, not believing that it would ever work between the two of them? What if they take it out on you? It’s not your fault that they didn’t find out earlier — would they hate him if he defends you in an argument? What if they don’t think he is good enough for you?

He has his own doubts, but hearing it from your parents would crush him.

You walk ahead of him, holding onto his hand while you walk inside and through your empty living room. He drops his hand from yours right on the threshold of your kitchen and gives you a tight smile when you look back at him. Wiping his clammy hands on his jeans, he takes a deep breath before following you into the room.

Clearing your throat to grab your parents' attention, you saddle up to the island and lean forward with your elbows on the cool countertops. Joel stands next to you, a respectable distance away but you feel the itch to bring him closer. Your dad turns around first, pausing his task of filling a cooler with ice from the freezer.

“Hey there, kiddo. Oh, and heya, Miller! Y’all havin’ a good time tonight? Need anything?”

“Or are y’all bein’ sweethearts and have come inside to help us with all this?” Your mom nods over her shoulder to the rest of the desserts plated across the counters.

She turns around next after washing her hands at the kitchen sink, patting them dry with a towel before she crosses the small walkway to settle on the other side of the island. Joel shakes his head when you’re silent for a moment, giving both of your parents a smile.

“No, don’t need anything. And I would be happy to help, ma’am—” Joel ever so politely offers before you interrupt him.

“I, uh, I actually wanted to talk to y’all about something.” Your voice wavers only slightly, a stuttering sound coming from your throat as you clear it again. One of your mom’s eyebrows raises in curiosity, much more sprawling thoughts happening in the subtle twitches of her eyes as she looks at your face, then at Joel’s, and back to you.

Your dad is a bit oblivious.

“Joel and I will leave ya to it, y’all can fill me in later,” he faces Joel, nodding toward the direction of the door and closing the top of the cooler he packed full of ice a minute ago. Joel opens his mouth to respond when you fill in again quickly, holding a hand up to stop your dad’s movements.

“No, um, actually, it’s better if you’re both here and Joel’s here ‘cause, well…” A flip of your stomach nearly sends your dinner back up, but you swallow it down and lock your eyes on your hands as you finally spill the secret you’ve kept for the last three summers.

“Joel and I are together. Like in a relationship. A serious one.” You kept adding clarifications to fill the silence that’s fallen over the room, and Joel steps closer, reaching a hand up to rest on your back between your shoulder blades. He braces for ridicule, eyes trained on you as you keep yours on your hands.

Nothing. Your parents are saying nothing.

And you cannot take the silence anymore, so you begin to recount it all from the first summer, meeting him and getting to know him — sparing the details of the two of you…getting together. The short month-long second summer, Joel holding out his hope for you to stay but eventually letting you go. The year between that time and the beginning of this summer, infrequent phone calls and life updates. And finally, this summer, when you came back with no end in sight and nothing holding the two of you back. Given the chance to finally give it a proper go, and falling even more in love with him than you thought you could love anyone.

Your eyes flick to Joel’s as you confess that, and he returns the sentiment with a warm smile and his hand rubbing slow circles against the bare skin of your back exposed by your thinly-strapped dress.

God, you really do love him.

So much so, it occurs to you that it doesn’t really matter what comes after this. You choose him, and he’s chosen you, and your family would have to accept it. You’ve spent too much time without him in your life, completely, and there isn’t going to be another summer ending in heartbreak.

At the end of your three-summer abridged summary, Joel turns toward your parents, speaking up for himself. “I just—I want to tell you both that I care very much about your daughter. I love her dearly, and my life’s gotten astronomically better since she stepped into it. Mine and Sarah’s. You’ve raised an incredible woman, someone who is kind but never lets anyone push her around. A complete force.” Joel turns back to you, a growing, shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “I can only hope that Sarah gets the same fierceness and is as self-willed as you. I’ve said it before, but you’ve got a golden heart. You’re magic.”

The four of you talk it through, fielding their questions and small concerns as best as you can to reassure them. They share a look before your mom speaks, taking a deep breath that lifts and drops her shoulders.

“We can’t say that it’s not going to be an adjustment. I mean, dropping this all on us after not telling us for so long is a lot to process—”

“Of course, of course. I should��ve said something earlier, I’m sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize. I just…Did you feel like you couldn’t talk to us about it or something, sweetie?” There’s a thickness in your mom’s voice, one that makes your chest ache.

“Oh, mom, no. It wasn’t like that, I—”

“I was the nervous one. I asked for more time before we told you this summer. I know how extraordinary your daughter is; she is definitely too good for me, and I was real nervous that you wouldn’t approve. I mean, I definitely have a different life than probably what you pictured. But I want to promise you both that I am proving myself every day to her. I always want to be better.”

To your surprise, your dad cuts in before you or your mom can say anything.

“You’re right. Our daughter is extraordinary…” He paused, continuing, “But you’re a good man, Joel. Trustworthy, dependable, respectful. And you very clearly love our daughter. There’s nothing more I could ask of someone for her. So long as she has a good, happy life, I’m content.”

Joel exchanges a relieved smile with your dad, your focus on your mom again as one arm snakes around Joel’s back to hold you closer.

“Your dad said it. If you’re happy, honey, then we’re happy…” She studies the two of you with tender care in her eyes, holding her hands to her chest before releasing them with a content sigh. “And I mean, I knew.”

Immediately, your brow furrows with confusion and Joel laughs, holding it back when you shoot him a warning look. Returning to your mom, you raise a question in response, “I’m sorry, you knew? How did you know?”

“Well, nothing was ever confirmed. But I did mention to your father quite a few times how I caught you sneaking glances and smiles toward Joel.” She directs the next question to your dad, whose focus has been lost on the plate of desserts in front of him, “And, how often did I mention to you catching Joel looking at her like all of the sunlight was radiating from her? Like he was completely head over heels.”

“Oh, all the time,” your dad answers nonchalantly. You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief, Joel’s laughter bubbling over while he tugs you into his side and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“To be honest, I thought maybe he was just in love with you and you were either oblivious or waiting for him to say something. Glad to hear that I was right!” she jests, laughing to herself and exhaling dramatically.

“So does this mean I can get my renovations done with a discount?” Your dad tilts his head up to look directly at Joel who holds a hand up in oath.

“Free labor from me always, sir. Can’t promise the discount for Tommy’s help, though.”

“Oh god, Dad, seriously?” you groan, rolling your head back while Joel looks on with a smile.

‘What? What’s wrong with asking that, kiddo?” Once again oblivious, your mom waves him off to drag the cooler of drinks outside. When he’s gone from the kitchen, she rounds the island, beaming with a grin.

“Well, I just can’t wait to already live next to my grandbabies! Don’t even need to move to be any closer, unless we move in with y’all into somewhere bigger—”

“Alright, Mom, I think the party’s probably missin’ these desserts, yeah?” You usher her by handing her a tray. She gives you a motherly eye roll before resigning her thoughts and taking the plate.

“Fine, fine, I’m going!” She shuffles in her sandals before glancing back at the edge of the threshold, “We really are happy for y’all.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Oh, Joel, c’mon. You’re part of the family now, call me Jen. And you can call her dad Mark, even if he gives you shit for it, he’s just trying to make you nervous. And then tell me, I’ll give him shit right back.”

At the click of the door shutting behind your parents, you face him and grin ecstatically, clasping your hands together. Joel’s shoulders relax with a sigh and your arms hook around his neck. He scoops you up in a hug, laughing when you shriek excitedly. Spinning the two of you around in a small circle, he settles still again, eyes locking with yours as a wide smile replaces his once apprehensive expression.

Joel nudges your nose with his, slow, warm breaths exchanged in the closeness before he kisses you. Slow, delicate, light melting into fervor — hot and heavy with all your love for each other.

Breathless, you pull away and he chases your lips for a chaste kiss, pressing his forehead against yours while you both start to laugh quietly.

“What a summer, huh?” you ask, another fit of laughter leaving your mouth.

“Definitely was a fun summer, sweetheart. And the last two, too.” Joel shakes his head, thumb brushing your cheek as he grins back at you, “Can’t wait to have all my summers with you, Mariposa.”

An ache is felt in your cheeks from smiling, but the dull pain pales in comparison to the all-over lightness; adrenaline and excitement make you feel as if you’re buzzing head to toe. Stealing another kiss from Joel, you feel him grin against your lips. Breathy chuckles fill the space between you when you pull away, tilting your head back in his hand to see more of his face.

“Wanna dance, J?”

“With you? Anytime, Mari baby. Lead the way.” He nods toward the door, taking your hand and following you closely as you head back to the party. Coming back out, all the eyes and whispers aren’t feeling like heat against your skin, instead the warmth of Joel’s palm grounds you and sends a shiver down your spine. He takes the lead in the moment, stepping ahead when you falter for a second and pulling you to the middle of the asphalt-turned-dancefloor.

The ever-so-familiar piano trills, along with the bright, smooth voice of Don McLean start to play out on the speakers, bringing wide smiles to both of your faces. As the beat picks up, Joel starts singing along, taking your hands from his shoulders and spinning you around as if you were swing dancing.

Both of you were clumsy, tripping over each other, but your laughter only brought brilliant, broad grins to your faces. The rest of the party fell away — it was only you and Joel, and all the memories that this song brought back.

The skirt of your dress kicks up as he spins you around and around, pulling you into his chest and swaying with you for the entire song, his deep and drawling voice singing along to the lyrics and sending goosebumps spreading across your skin despite the humid, sticky heat of the night. His steps slow down at the end, turning you both in one final, exaggerated circle before settling on the last note.

Joel looks down at you, adoration glinting in his eyes and his dimple showing as his mouth holds his smile. One of your hands slips away from his, reaching up to skim your fingers along his patchy beard and rest at the side of his neck. With another song turning over on the speakers, Joel leans down and catches your lips in a supple kiss. It’s slow and saccharine, savoring the taste of you on his tongue before he pulls away, waiting with bated breath.

You break the moment with a sweet, melodic laugh and a shake of your head.

“Of course, that song came on. Did you plan all this, Miller?” you interrogate playfully, the world still tunneled between the two of you.

“Absolutely not. But pretty serendipitous, yeah? Guess we should take that as a sign. Right person, right time. Finally.” His response gives you another laugh, nodding before going in for another short kiss.

“Yeah, think it’s safe to say it's the right time, finally. Was always the right person.”

“You can say that again, Mari baby.”

taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @sw33tp1xie @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @angie2274 @pedrostories @pedroholic @theelishad @johnwatsn @elissa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain @northernbluess @cannolighost @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @anoverwhelmingdin @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @planet-marz1 @kiwisbell @lizzie-cakes

#joel #writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller au #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller angst #joel miller series #tlou fanfic #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

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communistkenobi · 1 year

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the individual intentions of the writers feels kind of secondary when talking about how reactionary the mandalorian has become, but if you wanted to be extremely generous about what’s going on, I think that the very simple and boring answer is that there is no financial incentive to care about what happens in the show anymore. Disney lost over a billion dollars on Disney+ last year, despite the wild success of the mandalorian and other D+ shows. I’m assuming the primary way they make money is off of mando and baby yoda merchandise - this would explain why the showrunners reunited both of them before the first episode of the third season even aired. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that the mandalorian now exists primarily to sell the mandalorian merchandise. it has become an advertisement for itself.

and this would explain a lot! It explains why virtually all of the narrative threads from the previous two seasons have either been dropped or quickly resolved. It explains the exponential increase in nauseating Star Wars references like “Han shot first” “it’s a trap” yoda doing backflips etc. It explains why Din has become something of a zombie, going through the motions without any particular motivation beyond whatever deranged escapade he and Bo-Katan get up to on a given week. There’s no point to caring because the only real pressure is getting eyes on the screen and selling more baby yoda stickers. This is why we went from an Ahsoka cameo in season 2 (an obvious ploy to launch another show but still somewhat reasonable for the story) to having Lizzo and Jack Black in season 3 (literally no narrative reason at all). Those celebrities are really popular and their inclusion in the show produces media headlines that combine their names with the mandalorian, optimising search engine results and presenting the opportunity to sell merchandise to Jack Black and Lizzo fans, even if they aren’t Star Wars fans.

but the shape of this not-caring takes on a particular political form in the show - its lack of care for politics doesn’t equally produce progressive and reactionary political conflict, it’s only reactionary. And one of the reasons for this is because I think a lot of pre-existing Star Wars canon, which this show is leaning more and more heavily on, is so politically fraught that using it without thinking about it produces reactionary narratives. I think this is a large reason why 3x03 was so deeply disturbing politically, because it was all set-up for the arrival of the First Order in the Sequel Trilogy. The show doesn’t seem to take any specific perspective on this aside from telling the audience that its all very ominous, but it’s only ominous because the First Order are established as the villains of the Sequels, not because the rise of fascism in a fictional world is a specific horror that Favreau wants to explore, and the reasons for its rise are extremely lazy, boiling down to “the government is too wrapped up in bureaucratic processes to care and too forgiving of the empire to notice.”

and two I think that in general, positioning your story in opposition to politics - not a specific set of political beliefs, just “politics” as a whole - also produces de facto reactionary narratives. the show is not espousing any positive beliefs about what an ideal world may look like, nor is it precise in its criticisms about what it believes to be the flaws that currently exist in the present day world. It’s just against bureaucracy in general, democracy in general, technology in general. and the show abdicates responsibility for taking a position on why it thinks any of these things are bad. Din dismissively scoffs “politics” in 3x06, perhaps the laziest possible admission that the show is not interested in exploring anything it considers political, and aims to position the characters as being outside of politics. but that itself is a reactionary position, to assume that presenting a “direct democracy” as an overly-decadent, hyper-tolerant society who is too scared to give cops guns but will arm citizens if their cultural “feelings” allow them to carry firearms as “not political.” Again to be way too overly generous, perhaps Favreau is attempting to wave in the general direction of current society and say wow doesn’t this suck! too much democracy produced trump, too much technology produced ipad babies, too much bureaucracy produced complicated tax forms. That’s still stupid and wrong but it’s at least not an openly fascist position. but when you don’t confront those things as political and just say “they suck” in a way that you believe to be outside of politics, the perspective you take is that of a reactionary. a refusal to confront what you consider political is itself a political position, one where you intentionally shrink your imagination of politics to, like, government employees who work at the government building, and everything outside of it is just “natural” society - or, in this case, deeply unnatural, perverted by politics. the only apparent solution for the political conflicts in the show is to scale back “the politics” that are preventing natural society from flourishing. That’s fucking reactionary! and like sorry to pull this card but the whole “I’m above politics” schtick has a pretty extensive history of appearing in fascist slogans, from Mussolini to fucking Alex Jones, a rallying cry that these people eternally get behind - “We’re above the Left-Right divide.” positioning yourself as above politics is itself a political act, one that has a lot of baggage that, by virtue of positioning yourself as being too good for politics, you will not engage with.

so like I don’t know if Favreau is “really” a reactionary. At the end of the day it doesn’t matter because his current cultural output is deeply reactionary. but I don’t think any of this is done with intentional malice. I think when you turn art into a purely financial instrument you produce art that is fascist by default, because its only goal is to concentrate financial and political power for the ruling class by appealing to “common man” interests like. fucking Star Wars!!!!!!

#mando.txt #sw.txt #mando spoilers #mando meta

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97keanu · 10 months

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Kevin Lomax x wife!reader NSFW Imagines:

Tags: VERY nsfw, canon style Kevin, mentions of breeding, mentions of corruption kink, back scratching, aggressive, primal style, aftercare described, public foreplay

If there's one thing Kevin loves about you it's not your body for how it looks(of course he loves that too), but for how much you react from even the slightest touch

You two will be out somewhere public, say an important party with his coworkers and he will be trying to turn you on all night

It starts with the looks from across the room. You'll see him there talking to someone, and you're conversing with a few other wives when you can feel his gaze burning into you, and when your eyes meet, oh god...you know that look and you know you're in for a hell of a night

Eventually, Kevin makes his way back over to you, and he begins by resting his hand on the small of your back, innocent right?

Soon enough he's playing an evil game of how low can he go before you give him that look that says "I swear to god, Kevin Lomax..." And he pulls back up

Both of you know you wouldn't actually do anything if he just grabbed your ass right here in front of everyone, but that's apart of the game.

You can feel him playing with the zipper of your dress, slightly unzipping it, so slowly, until you grab his thigh and silently tell him to stop.

After he can tell you're at your wits end, he excuses the two of you, and soon enough its you who's pulling him by his tie to the elevator to get out of here.

He has your panties off in a matter of seconds in the elevator, and he grabs them up, giving them a good sniff before grabbing you and getting his hands to where it feels good under your dress.

You're moaning out, pressed up against the elevator and thanking god you're on the 32nd floor, so much more time for Kevin to play with your soaking pussy while claiming your tongue from inside your mouth

He gives you kisses and bites anywhere skin is showing right now. He's biting your lower lip, he's sucking and kissing up your neck before sinking his teeth in.

All while his purposeful fingers play with your clit and the elevator keeps going down and down....

You can see as the floors pass, and you have to pull Kevin off you in the last few floors before the doors open up to people waiting to get in.

You have no idea if they can tell, if they can see your clothes are scrunched, your lipstick is a bit smudged and Kevin's hair is wild from where you had your claws in it.

You also don't care, you're pulling Kevin into a cab and on the way home he's discreetly rubbing the inside of your thigh getting higher and higher....

The ride can't go fast enough

By the time you're making it to your apartment, its your turn in the elevator.

You press Kevin into the wall and unzip the pants of his suit, pulling his hard cock out, and quickly getting on your knees to take him in your mouth.

Kevin loves how much he's corrupted you, his sweet and innocent wife. His gorgeous and shy wife he shows off to the party, who is now on her knees giving him the best head of his life, he can barely believe how lucky he is to have you.

You both own the top floor of the penthouse suit, so when you get off the elevator, Kevin doesn't even put his cock away, just pulls you up, kisses you and tastes himself on your lips with a satisfactory grin, getting you inside the door of the apartment.

He doesn't even wait to find a couch or a bed, as soon as that doors closed he's pulling off his suit down to nothing and you're struggling to unzip your dress before he comes to help you

The whole time he's telling you every dirty thing he's going to do to you. Ex "Darlin', I'm going to fuck you right into the floor of this apartment" or "I want the neighbors to hear you scream my name tonight, baby....can you be a good girl and do that for me?"

He loves requesting dirty stuff from you, its his way of making sure you're okay with his requests while also keeping the mood.

After he helps you slip out of the dress, he pulls it down, taking himself with it, getting right between your thighs, where he loves to be. He opens you up, pushing your back against one of the apartments walls, one of your legs resting on his shoulder, where he kisses up from your toes all the way to your pussy before diving in

He loves the taste of you, he licks you up hungrily, then looks up at you with those gorgeous dark eyes and tells you "You taste so good, baby..." Before getting back to work.

You're clutching his short dark hair like there's no tomorrow, pulling him in, in...

He loves when you take a bit of control for how you like it, he wants to make sure you're pleased before he gets to his own pleasure

Soon enough he's dipping his fingers into you, hitting that spot you like so much, and in between breaths and tongue motions, he's saying "How lucky I am to have such a gorgeous wife..." And "I know all those men at the party wanted to fuck you, but I'm the one who gets to see you like this, isn't that right baby?" And its all you can do to moan out his name and say yes, yes he is the one who gets to eat your pussy like this. The one to fuck you into oblivion later.

Soon enough, your legs are shaking, your breath is fast and you can feel yourself cumming. Kevin looks up at you and you can tell from how he is looking at you, a mixture of determination and pleading, pleading for you to cum on his face. He loves doing this to you, making you completely addicted to this feeling, and being able to lap up your juices as you spill over the edge.

As you do, your legs begin to give out, but Kevin's strong. He's so strong. He holds up your weight as your legs stop working, and your thighs clamp around his head, that feeling that he loves

He finishes you off, leaving you an out of breath mess

He pulls you to the ground, only giving you a few seconds to catch your breath before he's laying you on your back, leaning in to kiss you, equally letting you taste yourself as he glides his cock into you

You're used to him, so he doesn't take it easy on you, but god is his cock BIG. Even if you are his wife, it feels like it stretches you out and fills you completely every time. You gasp as he fully inserts himself, your nails digging into his back, and he groans from the feeling

Kevin loves mixing pleasure and pain so he tells you to scratch him harder, and you oblige, your nails leaving red welts on his back by the time you two are done

Kevin pumps himself in and out of your dripping pussy, the floor of the apartment getting slick with what isn't on his cock. He loves making a mess with you

Kevin makes sure to eat up what little breath you have with his deep kisses, and you can hardly take it.

Your body is like his toy you're so out of it, completely weak from cumming before, he moves you where he wants, grips your legs, your thighs, making you move to where he can get deeper into you

That's all he can think about, "How can I fuck her deeper, harder...?"

He works your increasingly tender pussy in long, slow, passionate bursts that are sandwiched in between the fastest fucking you have ever received, your voice is almost sore from screaming out his name, and he's egging you on, eager to hear you scream out, wanting it louder, wanting to keep good on the promise that the neighbors will hear.

Just when you think he can't get bigger inside you, you start to feel it.

His cock is reaching maximum hardness, his tip leaking precum inside you, and he's telling you how badly he wants you bred from his cum, how he's giving you that baby one way or another

He's likely mid dirty talk, looking down at you, at your face that's so innocent and perfect, your soft lips moaning out his name, when he cums, filling you up so much more than you could ever think possible. It almost hurts how full you feel from his cock so deep inside you, pushing his cum even deeper, and twitching as it goes.

He collapses into you, Kevin's breaths so ragged and raw, just like yours.

He lays his head into your neck, his breath hot and tickling you there, the two of you lay like this for a while

As soon as he has the energy, Kevin is scooping you up off the floor and holding you close, asking you how you liked it (you loved it of course, and tell him so)

He runs a hot bath for the two of you, while he waits for it to fill he sits on the edge of your giant, luxury tub and softly pets your hair, running his hand down your back as well

You bury yourself into his neck now, holding his sweaty body close to yours, trying not to move to much so he doesn't spill out from between your legs

When the tubs finished he puts the two of your in, and begins washing you up, your favorite parts being when he does your hair, your back, and your feet.

He finishes himself up while you float and relax in the steamy tub, then he pulls the two of you out and works on drying you off with the softest fluffiest towel.

When he's finished he takes you to the room where the two of you collapse into bed, exhausted from the night, curling up to each other and drifting off happily.

#kevin lomax #kevin lomax x reader #the devils advocate #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #my writing #kevin lomax x wife!reader #kevin lomax fanfic #kevin lomax imagines

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fortunatelyenchantingtaco · 2 months

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Cannot even begin to explain how much past Allen and also Allen in general plague my mind at all times

Like Allen most of the plot is an amalgamation of what he thought Mana’s personality is and how he thought Mana would like him to behave. Like its honestly fucking heart wrenching. Not only is Allen when he was Red had an absolutely different personality, he also just took on the name of the dead fucking dog. This kid holds so much trauma

Like genuenly he crafted such a fucked up persona for himself, all gentlemen. I know its not that canon but i honestly adore the concept of Allen just never actually being fucking taught how to read and write and everything. He is perfect but some things he missed

This is especially funny because from what we saw past Allen seems to be very educated and very “sleazy riddler but will for you”, and Neah said they were very different from each other

Imagine if he was a bookman. And considering he knew Cross, imagine he gets his memories back and he’s like “WHAT THE FUCK CROSS” because cross hadnt taught him how to read just on principle

Allen having a mask of Mana for most of the series on is so absolutely wild. Aside from some emotional moments where we can assume he is speaking from his heart (considering how rude he is when brought to the brink) we dont actually know our main character this is so funny i need him to do therapy

The fact that he actually told Kanda what happened in his childhood is such a show of trust i still havent recovered frim this shit. The whole scene of Kanda grabbing him in the last moment and then them sitting on the tower? Peak character development for both of them even if you dont see them romantically.

I am very insane for this manga thanks

#d gray man #allen walker #kanda yuu #losing my fucking MIND

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galvanizedfriend · 2 months

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Klaroline Fanfiction Masterlist

It's been a minute since I last updated my masterlist so I decided to go ahead and start a new one. Yokan // ▪ Multi-chapters

. The Wolf Series [I, II, III and Outtakes - Incomplete] When Caroline wakes up shackled, powerless and very far away from Mystic Falls, she knows she's in serious trouble. But when a woman named Sophie Deveraux reveals the reason why she's been kidnapped and taken to New Orleans, she realizes things are far worse than she could've ever imagined.

[The Originals rewriting where Caroline is a witch and gets pregnant with Klaus' child. Seasons 1, 2 and 3 complete, season 4 coming.]

. Vice and Virtue [6/6 - Complete] As the second son of a Duke, Klaus Mikaelson has the means and all the time in the world to indulge in every manner of wild activity with very little respect for the regiment of polite society. That is until his brother decides he's had enough of his vulgar ways and gives him an ultimatum. Caroline Forbes is a young debutante in search of true love and adventure. Except her aunt wishes for her to marry a somber Viscount who's already buried three wives. When their paths cross, they realize they might yet strike a deal that could satisfy their relatives and benefit them both.

[AH Regency!AU inspired by Bridgerton and a dozen other period novels I have been reading lately.]

. Pedulum [2/2 - Complete] This is what Klaus Mikaelson knows: death isn't the end for him. From the moment he is brought into the world to his final shuddering breath, Klaus' life is pretty much the same as everyone else's. The difference lies in what happens after he dies: he goes right back to the beginning, a child in London with the memory of dozens of lives lived before. Nothing ever really changes, including the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he can never save Caroline Forbes' life for too long.

[AH/soulmates!AU with a slight magical twist. Technically a one-shot, chapter 2 is just an alternate ending.]

. We'll Always Have New Orleans [3/15 - Incomplete] Caroline wakes up in a world where everything looks exactly the same, only nothing really is. For starters, she's no longer a vampire, and no one else in Mystic Falls has ever heard of witches, vampires or werewolves - no one except for Klaus, who woke up just as human and twice as angry about it. Their search for answers and a way out takes them all the way to New Orleans, and Caroline could never anticipate how much this crazy fake world was about to alter her reality forever.

[Canon-divergence!AU. Set right after TVD 4x18.]

. Speed Dating [3/4 - Incomplete] Klaus is having a bad month, so Caroline decides it's a great idea to drag him along to a round of Speed Dating. Other men in the room do not approve.

AH/AU fluff that was inspired by an episode of House (yes, it is fluff, I promise).

. Gasoline [2/2 - Complete] "He doesn't apologize, of course he doesn't. He doesn't care. He calls everyone love. It's not meant to mean anything. Except it did, once, and it makes Caroline's stomach churn away inside, as she feels Klaus crawling underneath her skin like he never left at all. I've still got you."

AH/Band!AU. Two years after Klaus walked out on his band - on her -, Caroline finds herself in her least favorite place on earth - New Orleans. She really did try to stay away from him, escaping an event just to keep off his radar. He finds her anyway.

. Like It's Christmas Again [2/2 - Complete] As Christmas approaches, Caroline Forbes, a New York-based event planner, is sent to a quaint small town in Virginia to organize their holiday festival. But her plans are momentarily hindered by the presence of Klaus Mikaelson, the Mayor's brother and a grumpy billionaire lacking in any holiday spirit, who's in town to close the sale of his family's manor - the charming estate she was hoping to use as a venue.

[AKA that time when I committed Christmas fic. AU/AH inspired by a Hallmark movie, I kid you not.]

. Spin [5/5 - Complete] Since she was seven years old, Caroline Forbes has been preparing herself to become President of the United States. But before she gets to the Oval Office, she needs to win the election for senior student president at the prestigious Saint Sebastian High - which would be in the bag if only goddamn Klaus Mikaelson hadn't decided to run against her.

[AH/AU lovers-to rivals-to-lovers The Politician!AU where everyone takes school elections way more seriously than they should.]

. How Far I'd Go [2/2 - Complete for now] Set in TVD S6/TO S2. Unable to control Caroline after she turns her humanity off, Stefan reaches out to the only person he can think of for help.

[Slices of moments of Klaus in Mystic Falls while Caroline has her humanity off.] ▪ One-shots

. The Sound of Settling Klaus hates his job at Mikaelson & Sons. He hates wearing a suit. He also hates his brothers constantly butting into his life. Everything will be better once he gets his much desired transfer to the New York branch. Caroline Forbes is the owner of Mystic Café, and when Klaus accidentally wanders into her coffee shop, his whole perspective changes. [AH/Coffee Shop!AU where Klaus is a lawyer. Fluffity Fluff. Lots of Mikaelsons and some Carenzo friendship.] . The Witch Queen Caroline always knew she was different. She was keyed into her own otherness very early on. Strange things happened around the Forbes women. Her mother never really had to spell it out to her, give it a name. Caroline could always sort of feel it, and then at some point the feeling blossomed into comprehension, and comprehension hardened into fact. And with that came an altogether different kind of certainty: this was not a secret she'd be able to keep forever. One day, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, everyone would find out. And when they did, they would come for her.

. Worst Things Have Happened Klaus Mikaelson is a prince with a very dark secret that threatens to destroy his family's legacy. Caroline Forbes is a sorceress whose job is to make sure his secret remains buried. But would it hurt him to put some clothes on? [Royal!AU, with a magical twist.] . The Unexpected Grace of Falling Apart The whole incident was bound to go down as a funny anecdote to be shared among friends, a Oh, you think you've had the worst hook-up ever? Hold my beer kind of story. Provided, of course, that she never had to see him ever and could just wipe him out of her life and memory for good. Given that they live in different time zones, it shouldn't be too much of a hassle.

That is precisely why Caroline is livid when she emerges from the arrivals area at Richmond airport to find Douchebag, in the flesh - sunglasses indoors and all, like the proper jerk that he is - holding up a sign that readsClarisse.

[AH/AU. It's Tyler's wedding weekend and Caroline is back in Mystic Falls for the first time after the most traumatic and depressing year of her life. And it's about to get even worse as she's made to share breathing space with Klaus, The Worst Guy Ever. Except they might have to join forces to save the wedding, and to the discovery that things might not be what the seem. As Caroline teeters on the edge of a breakdown she'd been trying very hard to conceal, an unexpected savior appears to help her through the haze.]

. love, the monster's got me now [Canon compliant. Set in TVD S03E09 Homecoming.]

"Don't run," he says calmly, sounding almost bored, but with a clear warning. "I'm in the mood for a chase. Little spoiler: you can't outrun me." His eyebrows twitch up when he finally turns around to face her, lips curling into an amused grin. "Tyler's girl," he states, gesturing towards the now empty yard. "You missed out on the celebrations, I’m afraid."

[Or: the missing Klaroline scene between "There's your pretty little girlfriend, Caroline" and "There's a whole world out there waiting for you." Klaus and Caroline meet after Homecoming.]

. When It's Gone Suddenly, Caroline hates how nice the bed feels. How soft the pillows are. How smooth and cool and expensive those goddamn sheets are against her skin. She hates the giddiness in her belly, like she's a stupid schoolgirl when she's not allowed to be one anymore. She hates how right the space between Klaus' arms felt, how easily she molded against him. His lips were as full and as soft as they looked, but his hands were gentler and more reverent than they had any right to be, and Caroline hates it. Hates it, hates it, hates it. She hates that it suits her, hates that she wants it, hates that none of it is hers to keep.

[Set after TVD S04E19 Pictures of You. Caroline hears about Klaus' impending departure after a mysterious letter and decides to have some words.] . Wishing Each Sigh Might Be the Last The first time she sees him, Caroline thinks he's an angel.

[Set in 1800s New Orleans. As Caroline lies dying, she prays for God to send help or end her torment and save her soul. She thinks an angel has come for her. But he's no angel at all.] . Feel the Madness Closing In Set in TO S3. Caroline is in New Orleans when Lucien and the Ancestors make a move against the Mikaelson family - and they know exactly who to target in order to get to Klaus. Paranoia sets in, sending him to a very dark place, and Caroline finally learns the price of being loved so profoundly by a monster. . Issues When Klaus' Hollywood career takes a down turn after a nasty divorce and a viral mug shot, his manager decides his life is not yet miserable enough, bringing in a PR company famous for its high-profile damage control cases.

[AH!AU where Klaus is a problematic movie star and Caroline is a PR agent with no time for his BS.] . Urban Legend "I hate myself for saying this, but I have to agree with Little Miss Sunshine," Caroline cuts in. "This is Whitmore. Nothing ever happens here. Least of all a possession that leads to a massacre of slasher movie proportions."

"Thank you, love," Klaus returns brightly. "Very flattering to be validated by you."

"Bite me, Klaus."

"Find me later, after my shift, and we can see to it," comes the shameless rejoinder.

[Or: Caroline tries to navigate life in college having the worst roommate ever, a douchebag who cannot take a hint and a nosy journalist whom she's definitely not attracted to. Never in a million years.]

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klaus x caroline #klaroline fic #kc fanfiction #kcfic #kc fandom #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes #the originals rewriting #the vampire diaries fanfiction #yokan writes #masterlist

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dwarf-hat-enjoyer · 9 months

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🌼Favorite Flowers🌼 (Bachelors' V.)

synopsis: Favorite flowers of all six Stardew bachelors! No farmer mentioned, headcanons. SFW.

w.c.: 1.2k words!

content warnings: None!

A.N.: shoutout to @jellyaris for inspo on the Shane section! Hope everyone enjoys these little snippety snippets...Suuure, some of these headcanons kind of diverge from canon (yeah, yeah. Alex is neutral to dandelions ingame. Sue me, LOL.) But who cares, it's Tumblr! Might make a bachelorettes' version too.

Alex

He's a simple man with simple tastes. DANDELIONS suit him well! He has fond memories of picking dandelions with his mother and blowing the seeds away, and even vaguely remembers how to make flower chains out of them. Of course, he could never get them as neat as hers, but Granny Evelyn still asks for his help when making crowns for the Flower Dance. Apart of him wonders why they have to use nicer-looking flowers for the formal crowns when dandelions work just fine. They're sturdy yet flexible- not nearly as fragile as the more 'beautiful' flowers, and as an athlete, he can admire that about them.

On a deeper level, there are many similarities to be found between Alex and his favorite flower. First impressions can be deceiving- just like most people think of dandelions as pests, Alex can come on a bit strong and even arrogant. But looking beneath the surface, they both share the same physical and mental will to push forward and survive in even the most difficult circumstances. They both go through drastic changes as well. Just as the bright and spiky bloom of a dandelion becomes softer and more delicate, Alex's spirit softens too. His own changes, though, won't float away on the wind anytime soon :P

Elliott

As obvious as it would be to say red roses, SNAPDRAGONS would be his favorites instead! As much as he is a romantic, he's just as much a daydreamer, and snapdragons would provide his imagination with ample opportunity to run wild, both with their fantastical name and lush, delicate appearance. They remind him of adventures in far-off lands, harkening reveries of ancient castles filled with wondrous secrets and the brave heroes set out to uncover them. He's a homebody at heart, but nothing is stopping him from holing up in his cabin and writing about any of it! (Or, well, fantasizing about writing about it, in most cases. <3)

But just as established, he's a romantic. Elliott is definitely well-versed in the language of flowers, and the meaning behind snapdragons in particular hardly eludes him. They symbolize grace, earnestness and strength under pressure, but are also known to represent something less than well-intentioned. Emulating the former qualities is something Elliott has done effortlessly, but in a way, the last one entices him the most. To create something beautiful, strong and mysterious; something that draws one in and sparks love and fear and longing for an endless more- isn't that what every writer wants? What every writer dreams of?

Harvey

A little like Elliott in this regard, Harvey is the sentimental type. FORGET-ME-NOTS hold a special place in his heart. It's a simple flower in appearance with an almost childlike name, but he likes them just the same. Maybe it's because of those traits that he does- they remind him of the carefree days he's missed out on, since moving to the valley. On top of his doctoral duties, he's a very lonely person overall. Forget-Me-Nots, with their hopeful pale blue, almost cheer him up to see on days where he feels less like a member of the community and more like a robot with a stethoscope and scrubs.

It's also their name that connects with him in a way...Forget-Me-Not. On top of the way they look, they cheer him up with that name. On the rare instance that the flower comes up in conversation, he jokes that the person who named it must've had terrible memory, as cheesy as it sounds. But all jokes aside, it's comforting to him that a flower otherwise unremarkable would have a name that insists to the listening ear that it shouldn't be forgotten. Almost inspiring, even. It makes him feel as if one day, he won't be another face-in-the-crowd. Somebody important, though to whom in particular...? Well, time will tell!

Sam

For Sam, it's DAISIES all the way! He constantly flip-flops between spring and summer as his favorite seasons, but daisies give him the best of both worlds. Seeing them dotting the fields in the warmer months always brings a smile to his face. Whether or not he's close with him, Sam definitely got Alex to teach him how to make flower chains one late spring...Of course, Alex may or may not have been mildly jealous of how easily Sam picked up on the skill, but when spending time together outside, Sam's restless hands sometimes find themselves picking daisies from the grass while Abigail and Sebastian chat and bicker and making the both of them bracelets!

When he still lived in the city with his mother, father and a much younger Vincent, he'd sometimes see them poking out of cracks in the sidewalk. While they weren't as common as dandelions, they still always caught his attention. While Jodi chatted aimlessly with her fellow PTA moms outside one of the countless Zuzu City JojaMarts, he'd busy himself, plucking daisies and dandelions from whatever nooks and crannies he could find and playing with them however he wanted. Back then, he didn't think much of it, but he looks at those times with almost a fond nostalgia. Things changed, but that doesn't mean it all has to be sad, right?

Sebastian

He doesn't think about this sort of thing very often, being the lovable terminally-online dork that he is. But if you ask, Sebastian's favorite flower would have to be BLACK TULIPS. It's not a very deep answer, really. Sure, tulips are more of a spring flower, but he finds the pitch purple color to be one of the more interesting colors that plants can have. They stick out among the cheerier colors that most other breeds of tulips display- the goths of their genus, if you will, and that's small part of why he likes them!

He entertained the idea of gardening, at one point, even prior to the farmer's arrival. Though he plans to move out eventually, he thought it would be a good way to get outside and get some exercise, though it wasn't ever really anything he thought to commit to. Though, he does chat with Evelyn on occasion- their shared affinity for tulips and his occasional fantasy of maintaining a small garden has ended up providing a lot more conversation than he's used to, or even expected! Even if most people see him as an asocial shut-in, it's comforting for him to recognize his softer side.

Shane

Look at him. All gruff and mean. His favorite flower is probably a thistle of some sort, or something poisonous. All things considered, his favorite flowers are FAIRY ROSES. Don't give him that look- it's just because Jas likes them so much! Seeing the way she lights up when she sees them is contagious for this gold-hearted curmudgeon. She'd spent two entire weeks planning out a one-woman recital for him and Marnie once, and when he handed her a little JojaMart bouquet of them afterwards...Well, the look on her face made the price tag worth it. Although, her excited squeal did leave his ears ringing for the rest of the evening.

The flowers are native to the valley, too...Sometimes, he feels as if he doesn't belong. Why would he? It's not as if he was born there or has any particularly close friends. If Pelican Town was a garden, he'd just be a weed. But Jas seems to have taken like a duck to water, although she's still shy as ever. Shane can be self-defeating and pessimistic at times, but he's not made of stone. He's grateful that she's in a place where she can flourish, just like the fairy roses she adores so much.

~FIN~

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the-mcyt-crackships-brackets · 3 months

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PSA: These Brackets contain multiple Ch!WilburSoot ships, We DO NOT stand with CC!WilburSoot actions, and send all of our support toward shubble, if you are uncomfortable with these ships, please don't interact and/or block the wilbur soot tag. if those ships are too problematic, they can be replaced. anyway his ass got destroyed

Welcome to the MCYT Crackships Bracket!

Here, we will be seing which crackship is the best, and because that statement is vague, you get to make your opinion!

Each crackships was randomly agenced from Characters You chose! (This also sadly means we can't take more submissions, at least yet (mcyt crackships brackets V.2. Confirmed ???))

This is all meant to be in good fun, so please be respectfull with others and use propaganda the least wisely you can! (propaganda isn't endorsed, it's encouraged!)

We as a community can get inspired by these, make art! fanfics! (and if you do, please tag me) of your favorite Crackship!

Maybe we could even find a name for them, after all, maybe the next "big ship" will be in this, who knows?

WE ARE NOW IN THE SEMIFINALS!

The brackets will not be revealed yet, but when all of the polls will be published! this way, we can still get you surprised!

*Orionsound - Rat SMP version

*LDshadowlady - Empire SMP season 1 version

*Zombiecleo - Pirate SMP version

*Katherine Elizabeth - Empire SMP season 2 version

*Fundy - L'Manberg version

*Fwhip - Empire SMP season 1 version

*Pearlescentmoon - Double life version

*Slimecicle - QSMP version

Our thoughts and observations under the cut!

Round 1:

I clearly thought Ninjaslap would be the biggest sweep, but pixltoile suprisingly fought well, And fish yuri left no shot to Zaypixel and Geminitay

Round 1.1.3 was extremly close, but Shubble x Hypno won by O.8%! (≈4 peoples!)

We already got two piece of "propagandart" (propaganda art) in round 1, and both were for Fish yuri! (by @t4tpolypd and @staringamassivemistakeintheface)

Round 2:

Mogbeans/Swamp boys tried hard but T4T yuri was stronger (My boys 😭 - Admin 1)

Littlesoot got its ass kicked by hotguy/fundy and was crying in a corner when suddendly, out of nowhere, it took itlwblr by storm, broke containment, the poll broke 1k votes, became the most noted of the brackets (yet) and won with a large margin!

FWhilza fought well but Bighills was stronger

Fish Yuri still prevail with the biggest sweep yet (87.3%!!!)

Jojosolos/Jack Manifold vs Tommyinnit/Scott Smajor was the closest yet! (50.1 to 49.9!!!!)

So many art!!!!!!! look at the tag (#propagandart) it's worth it!!!!!

Round 3 and PURGATORY 1 :

Scegg vs Stresstherine was so close it switched side at least 5 times!

i'm genuenely impressed by clownscar comeback they've constantly been close but didn't get ahead during the whole poll and somehow managed to win in the last stretch!

WE MADE MOGBEANS CANON!!!!!!! VIVA LA SOS SMP!!!!

Fish Yuri is unstopable and has killed many great ships now (rip Bighills we loved you so much)

Bdubs Smol Bdubs is tall!

Content SMP fans are sad today, the last two ships they had just sank! (bye bye Evillnox and Skizzlerat)

So much art! and even more as been promised! (you need to check out #propagandart if you haven't already)

Round 4 and PURGATORY 2 :

Fish Wives felt resistence to the first time facing Clownscar, but still they were too powerful

Clownscar you will forever live in our hearts

Wilbur you're a pig, Yuri beat his ass! (and so they did)

Zombiecello/Ivorycleo popped off! >90% sweepage!

3/8 ships still in line are yuri, but none of them are part of the PURGATORY Brackets!

Goodbye Zaypixel, our only Yuri Loss this round :(

You guys seem to love shipping Ethoslab a lot (bunch of ethogirls) as he is in 35% of the remaining ships

even more art, and art trades! (go ceck out #propagandart and #takin' request)

Round 5 and Purgatory 3:

Yuri lost so much, and is now only represented by Fish Wives :(

Half of the ships still in have a wild etho in them (ethogirls rise up!)

The now no-longer-crackship mogbeans is still thriving and bested the fan-favorite fwhilza!

Seapeekarl fought well, but lost to the ethogirls again

this is the first round where they weren't a >40% sweep! but the choice are only getting harder from here!

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ryo-apologist · 28 days

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Racer! Link

Racer! Link x Reader

CW: Smut, Minors DNI, I will block your ass, author knows nothing about racing and it shows

AN: Yes, this is about that Link. The one with the elf ears, says "Hyah!". Yeah I'm a Linked Universe Nerd. Sucks to be y'all. Keep ya guessing on which fandom has my balls this week.

~Darling XOXO

☾ So, I hesitated writing this for a number of reasons, but I decided I don't care. Hozier has a new song, April has me face down in the mattress with how hard it's fucked me and I just want to write about a Link near and and dear to my heart.

☾ Mario Kart Link.

☾ He's just a silly lil goober who's always having a good time. Especially when I play as him because what is second place? He'll never know.

☾ I know, canonically, both are Skyward Sword! Link and Breath of the Wild! Link. I do not care.

☾ Because come with me, sinner, as we explore a whole new world. A world where Mario Kart isn't a silly lil game. It's an empire.

☾ Like Fast and the Furious (I think, idk I never watched any of them). OR like sk8 the infinity at S. I do know that one.

☾ There are real things at stake here. It's intense, and it's heavy.

☾ Here, give me a break while I do some worldbuilding here. Mystery blocks are still a thing, they work by magic idk, except getting hit by one of those things is devastating. It's why the newcomers don't last long.

☾ All the main screen players (Mario, Luigi, Bowser, Inkling boy, etc.) are high level racers. They are A-listed and the ones you look out for if you see them in the lineup.

☾ Including Link himself. He drives a motorcycle he named Epona, which he built himself from scratch.

☾ I spent a lot of time (three minutes) trying to figure out a clever nickname for him, and then I saw some of the names other people gave their Linksona's and, while there's nothing wrong with them, I quickly realized I was overthinking things.

☾ It's mostly a stage name, his name is Link and outside of the raceway, he goes by it.

☾ But, for shits and giggles, and point of discerning him from the others, I don't care. Call him ratchet, greaser, racer, cypher, tank, axel, sparks. I'm giving you all the freedom! Me? Personally? I'm going to call him:

☾ Neo- a combining form meaning “new,” “recent,” “revived,” “modified,”

☾ Great I gave you some background, let's get into the fun parts.

☾ Neo, where do we begin with you.

☾ Have y'all read A Court of Mist and Fury? You know Rhysand?

☾ He's Cassian coded.

☾ LMAO You thought.

☾ He's a fun, kind-of guy but when shit gets real, he can shift from zero to a hundred like that.

☾ He'll be laughing with a newbie, patting them on the shoulder, but the second that visor comes down, he's unrecognizable. He's an A-lister for a reason.

☾ He's infamous for taking shortcuts that are insanely dangerous. He's almost always bandaged somewhere, but not his pretty boy, play bunny face.

☾ So Cassian and Lightning McQueen.

☾ He's totally the kind to shoot a wink and a flirty wave, spend the night and then be gone by morning. Or have them escorted out by his Zelda in the morning, Tony Stark style

☾ He's a slut.

☾ Can you tell I like my men slutty?

☾ And he's such a....character in bed.

☾ He's a selfish lover, but make no mistake about it. His partner gets their end. That's right. I said lover. He's fucked bowser.

☾ I'm kidding

☾ No I'm not.

☾ He doesn't care who's in his bed. Man, woman, the funky others who say FUCK YOU to the gender spectrum /pos

☾ He'll bottom, top, switch it up mid-way through. He just like me fr.

☾But he's not lazy. Selfish, yes, but lazy? No. He's the best rider both on and off Epona, yk yk.

☾ And he has such a pretty cock too. A pretty flushed pink, circumcised with such a lovely vein running up the bottom of it. And while pretty, sorry his balls aren't much to write home about.

☾ They are dangerously sensitive though. Suck on them and run your thumb along the head of his dick and he'll whimper.

☾ SPEAKING OF-

☾ He whimpers so nicely. God, when he's in the middle of bouncing up and down on you (artificial or organic both are good), and his own hands are running up his chest, plucking at his own pebbled nipples and playing with the piercings as his head is thrown back in pure bliss-

☾ He's probably sponsored by Monster Energy

☾ Has a sugar daddy FOR SURE. God wish I was HIM.

#darling writes #legend of zelda #legend of zelda x reader #loz x reader #Linked universe x reader #lu x reader #linked universe #link x reader #mario kart link x reader #loz link x reader #legend of zelda link #if this has been done before...#my bad #im sorry

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justagalwhowrites · 10 months

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Lavender - Ch. 37

Joel makes emotional adjustments to you and Ellie. A continuation of Lavender ch. 1-3 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut. Just smut. Smutty smutty smutty smut. Oral (m receiving); unprotected p in v sex (wraps it up fools); evidence of canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 4.1k

“Joel,” Ellie drew his name out so it was stretched long and thin. “My fucking feet are about to fall off and that’s going to be an improvement. We have to stop.”

“Few more miles.”

Joel kept his eyes straight ahead and clenched his jaw. He knew the three of you had logged a lot of miles over the last few days. He sure as fuck was feeling it. His knees weren’t what they were 20 years ago but stopping had not been an option. He needed to get you all as far as he could from the men who’d tried to take you, been willing to hurt Ellie.

The three of you walked through the night and then all the next day after fleeing the camp, going in non-sensical ways through the woods. You’d insisted on taking first watch but Joel had hardly slept. He woke up what felt like every few minutes, squinting to find you in the dark, the stock of the rifle across your lap glinting in the moonlight. You slept curled around Ellie, holding her small body tightly to your own, her head tucked below your chin.

He woke you both before the sun was fully up, his legs still aching. But he had to keep you moving, had to put more miles between the three of you and things that would wish you and Ellie harm.

It had been a week of this now. They hadn’t seen another person - even any signs of another person - since Joel killed the man from the camp. Hadn’t crossed paths with any infected, either. The three of you had finally come upon a road that morning, having cut through woods for days. Joel was hoping that you’d come upon a town at some point, even a fucking tiny one. Somewhere he could orient himself, just a gas station with a damn map would do the job. He wasn’t sure where he’d led you after twisting through the forest for so long, hoping to cut such a confusing path no one could follow even if they were trying to.

He just wanted to get a few more miles. Then maybe the fear that had gripped him since you were pulled away from him and a gun was held to Ellie’s head would ease. Just a few more miles.

“Joel,” you said quietly, glancing at Ellie as she trudged along the side of the road. “No one is following us. This isn’t helping.”

He looked down at you, your eyes wide and soft. And it was a comfort for a moment. But then he remembered just how wide they got when you were ripped away from him, when you begged him to take Ellie away.

“Few more minutes,” he looked ahead again. “Then we’ll stop for the night. Next town we find we can stop for a few days, if it looks safe.”

“Few days?” Ellie perked up. “Fuck that sounds amazing. I’m going to sleep for like… a week. And actually give my feet a chance to go back to their normal shape, I feel like they’ve melted into these stupid boots…”

Joel pushed you for another mile and found a spot off the road to set up camp for the night.

“There’d better be a town like… three miles up the road,” Ellie muttered, her back against a tree as the sun set. “I am so fucking tired of walking. I never want to walk again.”

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but we’ve probably only covered maybe 400 miles of the 600 or so we need to hit to just get to the Wyoming border,” you said, eyes closed as you rested your head against a tree trunk. “And then we need to get toward the side of the state that Tommy was calling from. We’re maybe halfway there.”

“Fuck,” she muttered. You smiled a little.

“One of these days I’m going to get on you about your language again, Gremlin,” you said. “You’re becoming feral in the wild.”

Ellie scoffed.

“I was always feral.”

“More feral, then,” you conceded.

“Thank you,” Ellie smiled, content.

She settled in for the night, stretching out in her sleeping bag and curling in on herself as your fingers laced with Joel’s, your breaths relaxed and steady. It was calming, in a way. You were solidly next to him. He could feel you, hear you, sense you. Ellie was safe and close, even in her disturbingly small and fragile way of being. The sharp, jagged shock of fear that had been choking him for the last week eased when you were both like this. Where he could see you, know you were safe.

He was used to it with you but it was new yet familiar with the girl.

Joel hadn’t spent time with children since the outbreak. He’d never really been a kid person. Sarah had been the exception to the rule - to every rule, really. After she was gone, it made sense to avoid kids entirely. It was too risky. Some of the jobs he’d done in the QZ told him that. Kids were a walking liability. They were delicate, too curious for their own fucking good, no sense of self preservation. Joel had surrounded himself with people who weren’t risky. People who could handle themselves, who wouldn’t destroy him if they got hurt.

It’s why he’d shoved you so far away from him, even while he was tied to you, like his veins ran from him to you and back again all the while. Ellie… she was becoming like that, too.

He was sure that it had started because of you. Watching you with the girl was too much like seeing you with Sarah. Ellie and Sarah were two very different people but you loved them the same way - unapologetically, fiercely, fully. In the way that they needed you to love them without expecting anything in return. Your safety became tied to hers.

But it had grown and changed in the few weeks Joel had known the girl. She was more like him than Sarah was in so many ways. She was more like him than she was like you. He saw so much of himself in her, in her rough edges and brash determination and deep drive to take care of things on her own. He wanted to protect her before she ended up just like him, before she became too hardened to the world to be able to love anything in it. And when the man had put a gun to her head…

The man wasn’t living then, not after that. Joel had already wanted him dead for trying to take you but you’d have tried to talk him out of it and he may have let you. But after he threatened Ellie? There was no forgiveness for that. Not when he’d threatened both of you.

“You should get some sleep,” Joel said quietly, squeezing your hand.

“I’m comfortable where I am,” you said softly, squeezing back.

“You’re gonna wake up in an hour and you’re not gonna be able to fall back asleep,” he said.

“So worried about your wife,” you smiled a little, your eyes still closed. Joel sighed. “What? I’m just saying, most men at least ask a lady first…”

“Yeah well,” he shrugged even though you couldn’t see it. “Maybe I will ask one day.”

“Waiting to see what options are on the table wherever Tommy’s living?” You asked, still smiling a bit.

“Figured if I ever asked I should do it right,” he said gruffly. “Been waitin’ for it long enough. Lie down before you end up sleep deprived.”

“Fine,” you signed, not bothering to go for a sleeping bag and putting your head on Joel’s lap. “Wake me up when it’s my turn to keep watch.”

He didn’t answer. He just rested a hand on your side, feeling your breathing shift as you fell asleep.

Ellie hadn’t been too far off in her wish for a close town. It only took three hours of walking the next day before houses started to crop up alongside the road, in little clusters. Then there was a church, a small subdivision made up of maybe 10 houses, a grocery store.

“Oh man, if they have Spaghetti-Os or Chef Boyardee…” Ellie said, walking faster than she had in days for the store.

“Hold on,” Joel grabbed her by the backpack and put her behind him, his gun and flashlight out. “We’ve never been here, gotta take a look around first before you go in and grab whatever you’d like…”

You took your gun out, too, and kept Ellie tucked safely in between you and Joel. But the store was empty, clearly had been for a while. The shelves had been somewhat picked over, but it didn’t look like many people had been here since the outbreak.

“We must be off the beaten path,” you said, tucking your gun into the waistband of your pants and starting to examine what food there was on the shelves.

“Dibs!” Ellie reached to the back of the shelf and pulled out a can of ravioli.

“All yours, gremlin,” you smiled.

“Fuck yeah.”

Stocked up on food, you went to the pharmacy and Joel pried the gate up enough for you to clamber over the counter and into the back.

“There was a leak back here,” you called. “But still have some usable stuff…”

You came back with a few bottles of medication and a notebook.

“What’s that?” Joel frowned.

“The emergency information booklet,” you said, setting on the counter and climbing back over. You opened the booklet and shined your flashlight down at it. “Here we go, we are in scenic Curtis, Nebraska.”

“Nebraska,” Ellie nodded slowly.

“Just one state away from Wyoming,” you said. “Just hope Curtis is on some maps. Speaking of, we should make sure we grab some maps…”

The three of you made your way through town, Joel in the lead, Ellie behind, you at the back. But there was no one.

It didn’t take long to find why. In the middle of the small downtown was a pile of bodies, the skeletons charred. Everyone had been wiped out early. Infected would have bypassed quickly with no one to spread it to and being so far from everything meant that it was likely no one had been here in years. Joel put his gun away.

“Fucking FEDRA,” Ellie muttered, bypassing the pile, barely looking at it. Joel waited for you, your eyes glued to the bodies, your arms crossed tightly over yourself. He pulled you against him and kissed your temple before continuing on.

It didn’t take long to find one of the few hotels in town, an extended stay place.

Joel pried the automatic door to the lobby open and quickly looked around, but it didn’t look like anyone had been here in a while either. There was a rack of brochures near the door and he grabbed a map. Ellie picked up an ad for a local attraction, frowning as she looked it over.

“Did people really go to shit like the Museum of American Dollhouses?” She asked, holding up the brochure.

“No,” Joel said. You laughed.

“Not really,” you amended. “But apparently enough people did.”

“Weird,” she put it back, looking around the lobby some more. She jumped the check in desk, ignoring your exasperated “Ellie” as she did. She rifled around, pulling out a pile of room keys.

“What are these?” She asked, turning one over in her fingers.

“They unlock the hotel room doors,” you said. “But only once they’re programmed to so they’ll be useless for us. Is there some kind of room list back there?”

She frowned, rifling around for a moment before finding a packet of paper and holding it up. You took it.

“OK,” you said, looking over it. “It looks like there are some two bedroom things on the ground floor, rooms 121, 123 and 125.” You looked at Joel. “There are doors.”

He half smiled at you and led the way to the rooms.

They were in relatively good shape, the beds still made from the day of the outbreak. The hotel had been fairly new when everything went to shit and it was too far from anything major to be bombed, so it had held up fairly well. No signs of leaks, windows were intact. Ellie staked her claim to a bedroom, throwing her arms out wide and falling back onto the bed.

“I’m never leaving again,” she said.

“You can’t eat ravioli in there,” you called at her from the small kitchenette.

“I will leave one time,” she said. “But then never again!”

Joel barricaded the main door once night fell, Ellie going to curl up in her room fairly early.

“Do me a favor and keep it down,” she said, gesturing between the two of you. “Because… gross.”

“Be extra loud,” you said, Joel’s arm around your shoulders as you sat against him on the couch. “Got it.”

“Ugh,” she closed the door. You giggled.

Joel looked down at you.

“You mentioned a door,” he said.

“I did,” you nodded. “Specifically that one, over there.”

Joel nodded for a moment.

“Think we should take a closer look at what’s behind it.”

“Really?” You looked up at him, mischievous. “Why’s that?”

“I swear if you don’t let me inside you…” he nipped at your ear.

You giggled.

“Let’s see what’s behind the door.”

Joel had never been happier about the existence of a piece of fucking wood. The second the door was closed, your arms went around his neck and your lips were on his own. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you tight to him, your breasts pressing against him, your hips already trying to grind against him. He groaned, slipping his tongue into your mouth, tangling with yours, sliding over your teeth, trying to get to as much of you as he could reach.

He always fucking wanted you. That was a damn near constant in his life, had been for more than 20 years. Even for the years he thought you were dead - easily the bleakest of his life - when he dreamed of you, it almost always involved fucking you. The feeling of being inside of you, becoming a part of you in the way that he constantly ached to be, the deep satisfaction of having you as close as anyone could get. Even when he just dreamed about talking with you, it was almost always soaked in sex. Naked with you in his bed, tangled in his sheets, your limbs twisted with his own, your hair wound around his fingers. The best conversations of his life had been with you, naked and vulnerable and shut off from the world. He’d longed for that more than he did your body.

But the want he had for you now was different. It was its own snarling, groping thing inside of him, always reaching for you. It had been screaming for satisfaction since you were pulled away from him more than a week ago. He needed to feel you around him. Needed to be deep inside of you, so deep that there was no question in his mind that you were safe and whole and his. He needed to be so close to you that fucking no one could take you away from him.

Joel pulled your shirt over your head and immediately unhooked your bra, taking that off you, too. You tugged as his shirt and he helped you pull it over his head as he pressed you backwards, until your legs were against the bed. He kissed from your mouth, over your jaw to your throat, your skin salty from sweat and dirt and he wanted to devour you.

“Want you,” you said, your nails digging into the exposed skin of his back. “Fuck, want you inside me…”

“Far past wantin’ you,” he said, his lips on your collarbone. He unbuttoned your jeans and tugged them, along with your underwear, down your body. He nudged you down on the bed and your hands flew to his jeans, opening them, tugging the fabric over his aching cock and down until it was in a pile in the floor. You gripped his shaft, running your thumb over his already dripping head before spreading it down over him. You looked up at him through your eyelashes before you leaned forward and took him in your mouth. Just the tip of him at first, your tongue wrapping around him, making him moan as you pressed it into him.

“Fuck, Baby,” he groaned, slipping a hand into your hair. “Fuck, your mouth…”

You moaned, taking more of him into you, sucking him, your tongue pressing into the thick vein that ran along the bottom of his cock until his head was at the back of your throat, your lips wrapped around the base of him. You moaned around him, the vibrations in your throat going straight to his tip, damn near knocking him off his feet as he stood between your legs. You started bobbing up and down his thick shaft, sliding him almost all the way out of your wet, hot, soft mouth so just the tip of him remained between your lips before taking him all the way into your throat again.

You moved a bit faster with every stroke, taking him harder into you each time, his head making you choke as he filled you. Your hands held his thighs, trying to pull him as deep as you possibly could, making his knees go weak.

“Don’t want to cum in your mouth,” he managed, through gritted teeth, trying to think of something - anything - besides just how warm and wet your tongue was. “Fuck Baby, need inside you, need…”

You took him deep in your mouth and moaned, more forcefully this time, sending the vibrations from your throat straight to his cock. He groaned, pulling your head back from him forcefully. You panted for breath and wiped your mouth on the back of your wrist.

“Tryin’ to make me cum before I get to fuck you?” He asked, leaning over you. You crawled back on the bed and he followed, grabbing your ankle and holding you still.

“Not on purpose,” you smiled a little, sitting up on your elbows.

“Find that hard to believe,” he spread your legs and settled between them, his fingers running over your slit. You were fucking dripping wet.

“This all from sucking me off?” He breathed. You nodded. “Fucking hell…”

He kissed you, rubbing your wetness over his shaft, pressing you down into the mattress. He pressed himself against your tight, grasping hole and held your hips in place before he thrust into you in one sharp motion. Your back arched as he met your back wall, your channel already starting to flutter around him.

“Fuck Baby,” he groaned into your mouth, giving your tight heat a moment to get adjusted to his intrusion.

It didn’t matter how many times he’d had you, he’d never get tired of fucking you. It would never get old. You felt to goddamn good, your body molding to him, gripping him tight but soft, your whole being stretching over him. He could feel your body making room for him inside of you, your walls pushed apart while your hips pressed up into him, desperate for it.

He’d never felt anything like being inside you, the overwhelming physical sensation of it alone would be enough to ruin him for anyone else. Nothing felt as good as you, fucking nothing, your tight core gripping him so well it almost hurt. He filled you so perfectly it was the closest he came to believing in God. He was made to do this with you, there was no other way to understand it, explain it. His body was built to fit into yours, to wrap around yours while you were around him.

That would have been enough. It would have been more than enough. But looking in your eyes when he was inside you, the feeling that he’d never been this close to another person and never would be again, never wanted to be this close to anyone but you. The idea that he could see inside you, to all the parts of you he coveted most, that he could know you in a way no one else could and that you could see him in that way, too.

It was a fucking miracle he didn’t cum the second he was inside you.

“Joel,” you breathed, your lips brushing against his own as you spoke. “Fuck… I need…” You closed your eyes for a moment, he could see your throat work as you swallowed. “I need you to move, I need… fuck, too much…”

He kissed you softly as he pulled back from you slowly, dragging his swollen head along your inner walls, feeling every tender ridge of you before thrusting back in, earning him a delicious little groan. He kissed down your jaw to the side of your neck as he increased his pace, your hips rising to meet his as your body tightened around him. You pressed your face into his shoulder with a whimper as his cock drove all the way to the back of you, pressing against the mouth of your womb.

“Fuck,” you panted, kissing his shoulder. “About to… Joel I’m going to cum, I can’t… Fuck!”

You came. Hard. Your walls rippling over him with such force it made his hips stutter over you, desperate little whimpers slipping from your lips as your body milked him.

“Taking me so fucking well,” he managed as he fucked you through your orgasm. You moaned, sounding on the verge of tears below him, his hips slamming against yours with almost bruising strength. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good, so fucking good…”

It seemed like you wanted to say something but couldn’t manage it. He thrust all the way inside you, his own orgasm so fucking close but not ready to leave your body yet. He pushed back from you, his cock still buried in you to the root as he looked to where he became a part of you. You were stretched tight over him, your lower lips swollen.

“Look so fucking pretty with me inside you,” he breathed, looping an arm below your leg and pulling your calf up to his shoulder. He pressed a kiss into the muscle there, making you moan, and he leaned over you with your leg still tight against his chest. You groaned a little as your body adjusted and he held himself inside you. But he knew you felt the angle difference, your eyes searching his own as the moonlight filtered in through the window. Your pussy tightened even more around him.

“Joel,” your voice was raw, achey. “I love you… want you… need you deep, need to feel you as close as I can…”

“I know Baby,” he said, pressing his hips down, able to go even deeper from this angle, your back arching, your whole body tensed like a band ready to snap. “Fuck, you’re incredible, fucking incredible…”

He started fucking down into you then, pulling out only as far as necessary to thrust all the way back into you as your pussy gripped him tight.

“Want to cum with you,” he panted, his arms caging your head as he took you, the moonlight casting shadows on your face. “How…”

“I’m close,” you managed, panting for breath. “Fuck, just… my neck and keep…”

He pressed his cock into you harder, faster and pressed his mouth against your throat, finding the spot he knew where you were most sensitive at the same time as his cock pushed as far into you as something could go and you came around him, your pussy throbbing over his shaft sending him over the edge. He sank as far into you as he could reach, the whole of him buried deep inside you as he came, emptying himself into you until he went slack on top of you, his cock still buried within you.

Joel rolled onto his side, taking you with him, the leg that had been pressed to his chest hitching over his hip as he started to soften inside you. He took your face in his hand, his fingertips dipping into your hair. You pressed your lips into his palm as you caught your breath, your eyes searching his own.

He smiled a little.

“What?” You whispered.

“I fucking love doors.”

A/N: I know, no cliffhanger this time, just our lil' family being a lil' family (and Joel and Doc fucking each other's brains out. As you do.)

I do have a taglist. Please comment below if you'd like to be added! I try to add everyone I see but if I've missed you, please comment again. If you're on the list below but not getting alerts, it's because Tumblr is being mean and won't functionally let me tag everyone. I've left everyone on the list hoping that will magically change but alas, here we are.

Thank you for being here and for reading this and following along! I'm not sure when we'll get another chapter quite like this one - probably not for a hot minute? It's going to get real plot heavy as we get to Jackson so may as well enjoy it while we can!

Love you all!

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings @arizonadaydreamer @mumma-moonchild@blackroseguzzi@candypeaches16@kittenlittle24@wrappedinfiction@oatmeaiboy@pedritosdarling@winchestergypsy90@imnotdatboii @lalalalemonade11 @maknimuk1@mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes@pedrosaidsheispunk@commanderawkward@n7cje@elliesgirlll@tsunamistorm123@spookyxsam@leeeesahhh @anoverwhelmingdin @untamedheart81 @pedropascalfan221 @pedr0swh0r3

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut

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neversetyoufree · 8 days

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Just recently found your blog and i love it!!! do have any theories for vanitas' original name? My guess is Abraham, for all it doesn't really fit him, after Abraham van hellsing, who is both a doctor and vampire expert, which I think matches mochijuns naming conventions. Doesn't hurt that it matches with Noe (noah) religiously.

Thank you!! Welcome to the party ;D

Traditionally, I've always said I don't have any strong theories on Vanitas's name—at least none that I actually expect to come true. I think(?) I've talked about this before, but that's not really the kind of theorizing I do? Since right now any name theory is wild guessing and speculation, not elaborating from the text.

That said, I do now have one pet theory that I'm partial to (one I didn't have the last time someone asked me this). I don't actually think this is going to be the case in canon, but for now, I really enjoy the concept of Vanitas's real name being Byron. This is mostly because I think it would be funny, but there are some actual connections too.

Long context short, Lord Byron wrote an unfinished draft of what would have been the first modern vampire story, and then his personal doctor (John William Polidori) took the same idea and fleshed it out into The Vampyre—the actual generally recognized first modern vampire story. But! Polidori's version of the vampire (the version that established a lot of our vampire tropes) was partly inspired by Byron himself. So Byron is sort of this almost-but-not-quite vampire author, writing but also inspiring the tropes of vampirism, which reflects interestingly on Vanitas's relationship to actual vampirism. He's not a vampire, but he's much closer to one than any other human, and in demeanor, he acts more stereotypically vampiric than Noé and many other vampire characters.

Also, Byron is the namesake of the Byronic hero, which Vanitas is a perfect example of. He's brooding, cynical, arrogant, and intelligent, but despite his gloom and self-destructiveness, he has a sort of lonely magnetism about him. Once again, the concept of the Byronic hero is inspired by/named after both Byron himself and the characters he wrote.

As I said, I don't think I'm going to be right about this, as there's a million other theories that could fit just as well, but in the meantime, the concept does tickle me. Polidori's Byron-based vampire even has an especially strong connection to the moon :D.

Anyway, I really like your theory as well. I've noted before that it's interesting that there's no Van Hellsing reference in VnC (or any direct Dracula references at all, save poor dead Mina). It's almost surprising given Dracula is the iconic vampire story. I never even considered that there could be a Dracula reference hidden right there in Vani and waiting to be discovered, but it does make sense. The doctor/vampire expert connection is really fun and fitting! Though I'm afraid I don't know enough about the biblical Abraham to say anything interesting about that aspect beyond what you pointed out there.

#look mom I finally have my very own Vanitas name theory! I'm finally a real theorist!#(lmao)#thanks for the ask!#ask #anon #vnc #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #theory #comparison #vanitas my beloved

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victimsofyaoipoll · 10 months

Text

Round 1

Propaganda Under Cut

Yona

She’s the fiancé of prince Sidon, (arranged marriage) and since Sidon is almost always shipped with link, people went feral the second they saw her. She’s genuinely very kind and cares about her people and wants Sidon to be happy! She is NOT jealous, she wants him to hang out with his Best Friend. I have seen firsthand in real-time, people being SO misogynistic and cruel, and saying she’s ugly. She’s good in a crisis, very friendly, has a great design, and she doesn’t deserve the hate in the slightest!

I'M DESPERATELY TRYING TO FIND CUTE ART OF HER AND SIDON AND QUITE LITERALLY EVERYTHING REGARDING HER IS JUST STRAIGHT UP BLATANT HATE AND DENOUNCING HER AS SOME LAST MINUTE ADDITION TO THE STORY AS ORCHESTRATED BY JOHN NINTENDO TO STOP SIDLINK FROM BEING CANON LIKE THIS IS THE THE JOHNLOCK CONSPIRACY OR SOME MESS... i just want to see cute art of a green shark woman with a lovely smile :((((

so the breath of the wild fandom is pretty well known for REALLY liking prince sidon aka that one really tall fish guy. and they're also really well known for shipping him with link because every fandom needs a gay ship right. so then the sequel (totk) comes around and it's revealed that sidon has a fiance now and it's not link it's some zora girl from another domain. the game hasn't even been out for a month but i've seen people act so vile towards her like yona get behind me!!!!

Zelda

She spent 100 years in a metaphysical wrestling match with an ancient and primal evil after seeing it destroy almost everyone and everything she held dear in the hopes of saving the few that remained and Link's main goal after HIYAHing his way out of a amnesia-inducing coma was to come in and tag team said evil in order to save her and like 90% of the memories he can regain focus on their relationship with each other and its gradual improvement up to the point where Link fucking dies protecting her and it's the push she needs to awaken the power to push back the blight and PEOPLE ARE STILL OUT THERE IN THEIR POST-CANON FANWORKS TRYING TO TELL ME THAT LINK FUCKS OFF AND LEAVES HER ALONE TO GO SMOOCH THE HOT FISH PRINCE BECAUSE ZELDA WAS BEING TOO OVERBEARING OR WHATEVER AND HE COULDN'T DEAL WITH THE EXPECTATION??? LIKE ZELDA'S WHOLE FUCKING ARC WASNT ALSO ABOUT HER STRUGGLING WITH EXPECTATION AND FAILING TO LIVE UP TO IT AND YOU WANT ME TO BELIEVE THIS WUALITY THEY BOTH OSTENSIBLY HAVE IN COMMON WOULD DRIVE A WEDGE BETWEEN THEM?? WHERE'S ZELDA YOU COWARDS?? I DON'T EVEN CARE IF YOU DON'T WANT HER AND LINK TO BE TOGETHER, JUST STOP DIMINISHING THE GRAVITY OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP AND MAKING ZELDA SUCK FOR NO REASON. SHE'S A BIG NERD! SHE GETS TOO IN HER OWN HEAD! SHE'D DO ANYTHING TO HELP THE PEOPLE SHE CARES ABOUT! SHE UNASHAMEDLY AND EXCITEDLY TRIED TO FEED HER PERSONAL KNIGHT A LIVE FROG IN THE NAME OF SCIENCE! HOW CAN YOU NOT LOVE HER

Im specifically saying botw Zelda here because oh my gOSH this poor girl can get made out to be like a horrible bitch when people. want link to get that shark dick. on average she doesnt get thattttt badly treated compared to some others but goddamn.

title character but people hate her because they want link to get w sidon. so she gets fridged or entirely forgotten even though shes literally his canonical soulmate and they have been reincarnated together hundreds of times (w ganon but whether u make em poly or make him the long suffering third wheel is up to you). people will be like oh but zelda was mean to him that one time (??). be serious w me rn. she just got removed from fandom entirely and if that isnt the epitome of victim of yaoi idk what is.

#poll #round 1 #princess yona #totk yona #princess zelda #botw zelda #totk zelda #botw tears of the kingdom #botw #totk #legend of zelda

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nexusnyx · 1 year

Text

journey to kintsugi ▹prologue

— A/n 📝Reblogs and comments make all the difference. I do not allow my work to be translated or uploaded to any other place. My tip jar if you enjoy this story a lot and feel like it. ☕️ You can read this chapter on AO3. Word count: [3.9k] — Warnings⚠️ mature content—violence, mentions of death, gore — canon-typical themes; Minors DNI.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMain Masterlist | Official Playlist | Series Masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ▹ Close Your Eyes

Winter was far from kind to those that had no idea how to fend for themselves and the child you see walking a few meters away from you, hunting alone and scared in cold, has only a couple of days left. Three, if luck was on their way.

They knew some things to stay alive, but not enough. They had company, too. Inside the cabin, someone waited for their return, you were certain of it. By the ramblings the wind carried as the kid tries hunting for food you knew that much — a family member, most likely, or a friend they made along the way if their disposition to keep the person alive is anything to go by, and curiosity gnaws at your fingers to approach and discover who.

Ultimately, you refrain from it.

That lasts for a while — you help from a distance and repeat the mantra that's kept you alive until now, gritting your teeth at the instinct twisting your guts to go, help, help them, you need to help.

Regardless of how much you fight or deny it, both of them end up in your path in less than five days.

A change that would affect not only their lives but yours, deeply. Irreversibly. And forever.

Keep your distance. Always be alert.

It worked, for a while. But... Distance only works if there is no connection.

The power a name holds is enough of a connection for so many things. Enough worry to grow in your bones like vines until you are following a track down the snowy mountains. Until you are putting behind you everything you've branded to your skin for the past thirteen years and mingle, mixing with outsiders as if that ever worked.

For three days and three nights, you offered what you could as help to the child. Convincing yourself that, at least, you could do, you pitched in a ghostly hand to keep the young one alive — an easier hunt, or clearing the path they leave behind since they never learned how to, or an offering of food on the first hard night where no attempts from their part resulted in anything.

Then, a name, and everything freezes before it sets into motion.

"Ellie."

Then, they're no longer 'the child' or 'them'. They're Ellie, and Ellie is in danger. That's all it takes.

All you have is a name, but the purpose comes easily.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⤎ ⤎ ⤎

It happens on the fourth night. As you finish the perimeter rounds of the forest, you hear the familiar sound of a voice you've grown to recognize.

Without thinking, your feet move you toward the direction, instinct keeping you in the dark and silent at all times. Although the kid is young, they are far from innocent or harmless.

Despite their wild and occasionally sad behavior, their banter with themselves is adorable. You've grown fond of it, despite your best efforts to remain detached from the situation as a whole.

It's a few steps before they come into sight that you hear they're not alone.

Everything halts — your movements, the air around you, and the bubble of security you felt wrapped around you.

Then, it hits why — both voices are familiar.

Only the second one should know fucking better than to be this far up high these mountains. Your mountains. Knowing exactly who he is and what the likes of him do, his warning came long ago.

David knew better.

He should fucking know better than to be up here, considering you said the exact words 'if I see you in my woods again, you're a dead man'. Crystal clear as water from the source. As the streams of sunlight hit through the glass — what was he doing here?

Willing your body out of the freezing state, you stepped close enough to listen.

"... my buddy, James." Fucking James. He's with David, and you should have killed both of them long ago if you were being honest. Blood started boiling hot in your veins as you placed yourself between the trees carefully enough to see and hear the situation. "We come from a larger group of people," David lied through his teeth, setting his trap of false humanity and security in him. "Women, and children. We're all pretty hungry."

As soon as he said it, you eyed the deer bleeding on the ground near the kid.

Shot by an arrow.

They did it. All on their own.

A strange and unexpected surge of pride rushed through the icy fortress of your ribcages.

"Yeah, same here." The kid you might know for only days, but you smiled as you sensed their lie, too. Knew of their lie. Good for them. "Women, children. We're all hungry too."

"Uh... Perhaps we can offer a trade?" David offered. "For some of your meat." That clever, rotten bastard. "Doesn't even have to be all of it. We have things you might need. Clothes, ammo, food—"

"Medicine!" The interruption came across as desperate as it probably was.

So this was what they needed. If only you knew earlier.

"Antibiotics, d'you have any?" the kid asked. That meant the person they hunted for daily and went back to tend for most of the day was bruised. Badly bruised, and likely infected.

"Yeah. Not much, but, we do. Back at the camp." No! You froze again, your heart beating faster in your chest. "We could show you what we have. If you follow us back—"

"I'm not following you anywhere." Good. The deadly grip you suddenly had on your own bow loosened. "He can go. Jason, wasn't it? Yeah. He brings it here and we make the trade."

Every part of this is wrong. All the possible scenarios of this ending in the shitshow you know it could rush through your mind, and you want to scream while David and Jason trade looks, nodding to each other.

"Two bottles of penicillin for—" he pauses, looking back at the kid.

Their grip on the arrow and bow is steady. You've seen them crying, biting their fist, talking to themselves and doing their absolute best over the past few days, but now you see them clearly.

"Ellie." So it's a girl. With the coat always on and the distance, you kept yourself from guessing. "And Jason," Ellie directs her gaze to the man. "over there... better come back alone. With the medicine. Once you hand it over to me, the deer can be all yours. You guys go your way, and then I go mine. Alright? If anyone else shows up—"

"I know," David interrupts. Ellie must've given a warning before, and David confirms it by repeating the words you missed. "You'll put one right between my fuckin' eyes." The pats the tip of his finger to the location. Ellie nods, and you wish you saw her face now instead of his.

"That's right."

David and Jason share yet another look, and Jason leaves.

Your window of time to make a decision starts, and it narrows as soon as Jason's out of sight and Ellie demands David's rifle for herself.

He puts himself in a vulnerable position by doing so.

He obeys her without protest, then puts on his best 'tired' face for his next act. He then suggests it is cold — which it is — and they could at least wait for Jason's return in the abandoned warehouse a few feet behind them. Looking solemn. Harmless.

You should shoot him right there and then, but it might scare her. James might be coming back with penicillin.

No 'mights' made up for the fact that as David dragged the deer inside and Ellie followed suit, the invisible clock of her possible safety — and the chances of an unforgettable trauma — rose like the tide.

The voice of your elders started ringing in your ear.

Outsiders are danger. Nothing but danger.

You should run away. There was no real reason as to why you should help — more than you already had — a strange child whom you never met. Who had someone waiting for her high up in the mountains. Someone who could be equally if not more dangerous than her. Who could thank you for saving their companion by putting a bullet between your eyes.

Death arrived to people for less.

Fear and uncertainty hold you behind the trees for longer than you cared for. Longer than you or the girl have, longer than it should if you want to offer any help. You want to run back to your safety. Run away from the dangers that this could bring to your life, but your gut rearranges itself every second you waste in thinking about leaving her behind.

Sure, you could not intervene. She's not your responsibility. She could probably make it out of this alive.

Still...

Fuck.

Your gut pulled you forward, and you were moving.

Adrenaline spiked your veins, filling through you like scotch does, warming everything in its path.

Entering the warehouse stealthily is not a problem — how you'll get Ellie out of there is.

They're too distracted with each other to hear you coming.

There's a gun — David's gun — still pointed at him, and it makes a smile form behind your scarf.

She's good.

If your instinct is right — as it always it, no matter how much you hate to remember or try to deny it — this girl's a survivor and someone worth the trouble. There's no time anymore for you to second-guess all the risks you're putting yourself under just to get her away from the slimy, horrible hands of David and the likes of his.

"...to trust people nowadays. I get that." David knows how to talk.

So do you. "David."

Both sets of eyes lift towards you. Ellie goes from someone who was starting to let her guard down to hiding her panic behind the gun. You know so because you can see her fidgetiness in your peripheral vision, but your focus remains on him right now.

David raises both hands in the air, trapped between the threat of your arrow and his own gun in the girl's hands.

"The last words I spoke to you were very clear. You have no business in these woods." Or anywhere else. "Tell me why I shouldn't shoot."

"Who the fuck are you?!" demands Ellie. "Who is she?! You know her?"

"Unfortunately." David might be a master manipulator, but his mask is slippery. "She's a savage."

You scoff. "I'm the savage." The irony. If you want Ellie to not shoot you, there's something you need to do. "Hi, kid. I live in these woods. The man standing next to you is a cannibal. And a rapist. And worth less than any bullet in that gun."

Each word after 'hi kid' is enunciated with clarity, and when you finish, you do it — danger danger dangerdanger— you look away from him for a second, making eye contact with her for the first time.

Ellie's eyes are wide.

Drowning in fear.

It makes acid burn in the pit of your stomach.

With the aid of your shoulder, you keep the aim on David as you pull your scarf down so she'll see your face.

Not a stranger. No danger to you.

"Kid, don't listen to this—"

"Shut up."

It's almost... comical. The way both of you say it at the same time.

"I have no reason to lie to you," your gaze now shifts between Ellie and David, who started sweating and fidgeting as well. "I don't want your meat. All I want is him..." you pin him under your eyes, watching his every move. "Out of my woods."

"I thought you wanted me dead," says David. He almost smiles.

It makes you sick. "Don't tempt me."

"Why d'you care, then?" asks Ellie. "If you don't want what I hunted, why d'you give a shit if he's scum? I have his gun pointed at his head and his buddy's about to bring me the only thing I need. I don't need your help."

Why do I care? What an excellent question, kid.

The guiding voice in your mind answers with — Never run from your gut, Lupi. It'll always lead you right. It's your True North.

"All she wants is to confuse you. Just shoot her," says David. "Have I given you any reason to think I wanna hurt you?"

And oh — wrong move.

Ellie frowns. The crease dips between her eyebrows, and she looks between David and you.

She's a clever one. People never give you reasons before hurting you.

Then, something happens. When Ellie looks back at you and your gazes meet, something lights up in her head and she straightens up, her posture changing from the feral-like behavior of someone who's trapped in a corner.

"It's you," she says, voice barely above a whisper. "You... the rabbits with broken feet. You helped me."

You have to fight back a smile. "Seems like you don't need my help anymore," you reply, the sass slipping out despite the need for seriousness.

Ellie's mouth twitches at the corner.

A scream of frustration is the only warning you get.

David uses the second of distraction as you two share a look and smashes his body against Ellie, knocking the gun out of her hand and then proceeding to pull his pistol out of his back pocket, pointing the gun at her head.

Freezing you at the spot. Again.

"Alright, back off." Mask off, David is a whole different person. He pulls Ellie a few steps back as she grunts in the chokehold of his arm, but when the barrel touches her temple, the cold metal settles her, washing over her body like a bucket of cold ice. Reality. "Why the fuck did you have to meddle, huh? Since when d'you give a damn about random fucking strangers? I thought outsiders meant danger," he spits the last word.

Despair makes people reckless, Lupi. But it also makes them stupid.

You breathed in, willing the words to be your own cloak of reality, and breathed out through your lips.

"Is he bringing the medicine?" you asked.

David frowned at you, startled by the question.

"Just answer the goddamn question."

"Of course he is. I wanted her to trust me." David looks from you to Ellie. "Knew it the second I saw her... that she's special." He moves some of her out of her face with the barrel of the gun. "Aren't you?"

"So what — you were gonna give me the penicillin and then let me go?" Ellie asks in disbelief.

"Of course. You'd need more. I'd convince you to come to me. I'd show you I can protect you."

"Yeah, I feel so protected right now," spits Ellie.

David huffed in frustration. "Well... there's always the other way. I'm sure that with time you could be convinced to be good. I always wanted a more... wild pet."

The words make your insides twist, and your brain wrecks itself with ways to make this all go away.

"What the fuck—" Ellie triest wiggling away from him, but you see it.

David pushed his body, molding it against hers. "You'd be good, eventually."

Your own despair threatens to make you stupid, but you fight back. There's no time for stupidity in your hands, not if you want Ellie — and yourself at this point — to make it out alive.

So you put a plan in motion.

Pretending to hear something, you look away from both.

That catches David's attention.

This will be a risk. A huge one, but at the same time, if he rubs himself on Ellie just one more time, you might snap and try something that goes beyond ridiculous, like shooting an arrow between his eyes even though he has a gun pointed at a child's head.

"Clickers."

With one word, you try to ignore the ice in your veins as you back away from them.

Fear is the greatest poison. It works the fastest.

David lets you go, and you exit the warehouse hearing him say: "Shut up — I didn't hear anything. If she did, she can handle herself."

Stupid fucker.

Stupid, dead fucker.

As soon as you're out of their sight, you do a double-check to make sure you hear nothing. Then, you open one of the pockets in your pants and retrieve the small plastic container.

There's a dart already loaded in the blowgun.

All you need is a security check before executing the plan.

Finding an open spot in the warehouse is easy — numerous windows are cracked, and the snow makes your movements silent.

When both Ellie and David are in perfect view again, all you have to do is aim.

Your expertise.

Bullseye.

The dart hits David's neck. In three seconds, he's out on the floor.

You hear Ellie cursing and you're about to head back inside when you hear footsteps approaching, and you know who it is before you even turn around.

James has only the time to take note that it's you.

His eyes catch on the scarf you pulled back over your nose — they widen at the sight of black and painted scales, and fear is his downfall.

The arrow you aim at hits his forearm, clean through.

The gun drops, and his scream echoes.

Loud bastard.

You rush to where he is and pick up the bag in his other hand after securing his gun in your satchel. Checking inside, the penicillin and syringe are there.

James is groaning, crying in pain as he clutches his arm. The red in the snow is not enough in your opinion.

"He's alive inside. You're alive here. Consider that an act of mercy on my behalf and a final warning." You take a step back and make sure his eyes are on his before you speak your last words. "I'll have no words for any of you the next time. Only death."

A part of you wishes there would be a next time. Leaving James alive is not something you want.

When you turn around, Ellie's standing there with a weapon pointed at you, but unlike the last time, she's shaking.

You sigh.

Her eyes are fixed on you and the bag that's in your hands.

"That's mine," she says.

"I know." You throw it at her feet. "All yours."

Despite knowing you've helped her, she's still shocked.

"It was you, right? The dart?" she asks.

Both of you ignore James's noises. You nod. "If James over here manages to carry that sack of shit back home, they'll live." Maybe. The dart is also poisonous, but you keep that to yourself. If they raided penicillin, they can revert your poison. Maybe.

"I need..." Ellie's shaking. "I need to—"

"Let's go." You want her out of here.

To your surprise, Ellie follows.

You go back inside, and you retrieve a rope from your satchel to secure the deer with her help. Adrenaline helps with carrying the deer up the mountain, but snow slows you both down.

It gives you two the time to come down from the high. To process what just happened in the silence that is only interrupted by the howling of the wind and the noises of you two making your way up.

Silence is only as suffocating as the situation, and this one is stiff.

When you pause, so does Ellie. "Five minutes rest." The warehouse has been out of sight for a few minutes now, which means the distance is safe.

Ellie sits next to the deer. She's no longer shaking, but the shock is still imprinted on her face.

She gets up, restless, her eyes frantic.

Then, she looks at you. "Was it true?"

As much as you wished for a different answer, you nod.

"How do you know?"

"'Cause I've seen his compound."

Ellie's head starts shaking. "Why is he still alive, then? He and his people?"

"Are you asking me why I haven't killed a compound with over twenty, maybe more, men?"

"That many?" You nod in answer, and Ellie exhales shakily. "I... I wouldn't have made it out alive."

"Maybe not." You look at the deer. "Maybe yes. Thankfully, we won't have to know."

"Do you think they'll come after us? Up here?"

You shake your head with property this time. "That part was far down the mountain — further than I usually go, and admittedly, higher than he had the right to be."

"You threatened him before," she confirms.

"He knows he's dead if he comes up here. Plus — his guys have no clue how to survive up here. You and whoever you're helping are ok. From them, at least."

That seems to be enough for her. Ellie nods, and swallows so thickly you can almost see the knot in her throat.

It's one of the saddest things. Witnessing her process what could've been. What almost was.

"He... he said he wanted to..." she's special. "He was r-rubbing on—"

"Oh, sweetling."

Her eyes, when they find you again, are shining with tears.

"He would've—"

You interrupt, not wanting or needing the end of those words.

With slow and deliberate movements, you open your arms and step closer to her. "But he didn't. It's ok. Can I..."

Instead of answering, Ellie only allows her body to fall forward into your embrace.

It's been a while since you hugged another person, but you know she needs to feel some form of contact that's not laced with malice.

"And if it makes you feel any better... I picked a poisonous one for what he did." You hug her as she shakes, wishing you'd been faster. "He might not make it."

Ellie cries for only seconds.

It's like that's all she has in her — the shock makes her whole body tremble with it, but after only a couple of minutes, you hear a sniffle and feel her pulling back, so you let her go.

She avoids eye contact. "Thank you. For... down there. And helping me these days."

"You're welcome."

Wiping her face in her coat, Ellie nods, more to herself than anything, and then picks up the ropes again. "I know I don't know you, but — would you give me one last hand?"

"With what?"

"I—I don't know how to work a needle. Can you — Joel needs penicillin, and he needs it fast, but I don't wanna waste what I have now 'cause it's not as if I'll be getting more any time soon. So... can you do it? Do you know how?"

As much as you hate needles, you did know how. "I can. And I do."

Ellie's next sigh is in relief. "Ok. Alright."

You two start your way upwards again, but this time, you're distracted.

Joel.

That's the name of the person she's doing all of this for.

"He's gonna be ok now," Ellie whispers.

Somehow, you find yourself nodding along. Joel's gonna be ok.

The same gut that pulled you towards her tugs at that phrase, sparking something underneath your skin.

Joel and Ellie. You will help them and then go your way.

chapter one →

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