#look. from what i've seen he's good at his job and he seems a genuinely nice guy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justagalwhowrites · 6 months

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

OMG Hi Bestie!

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

The Watch

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

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

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

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

March, 2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Joel said, voice gruff.

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

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

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

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

“Bullshit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You held it out, an offering.

He took it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugged.

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

You nodded slowly.

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

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

You were wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt the man behind you laugh.

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

He sneered the last words, taunting you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s OK,” you said quietly.

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

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

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

“I’m fine.”

He nodded.

“Right,” he said. “Right, OK…”

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

Oh God, he only lived a few doors down.

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

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

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

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

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

“I will,” you nodded. “Thanks, Joel.”

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

That was the first time you fucked Joel Miller.

It wasn’t the last.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, looking back down at it.

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

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

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

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

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

***

Joel fucking hated sewer days.

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

Otherwise, it was worse.

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

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

He’d never meant to fuck you.

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

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

So he didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His stomach dropped.

“What did you do.”

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

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

“What the fuck did you do?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowned.

“It’s still pretty useless…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

The man smirked.

“Answers are gonna cost you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

Joel stepped back.

“When was it?”

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

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

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

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

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

He knew where to find them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look who it is.”

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

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

Pickett prowled closer.

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

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

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

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

“Joel,” you whimpered.

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

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

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

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

“Not leaving you here,” he said gruffly.

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

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

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

You flinched as you frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #kit answers #send asks #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #joel miller x oc

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phoen1xr0se · 8 months

Text

Good Omens S2E6 - Aziraphale's perspective

Taken from my fanfic 'Don't Fall Away From Me', on AO3 (link below). Apologies for any broken hearts in advance, but I hope it fixes some too. Most of the dialogue is taken from GOS2E6 but everything else is all me.

Artist credit: @mistysblueboxstuff

Aziraphale

Forty-one days earlier.

"Go on. The day can't get any weirder."

Aziraphale swallowed, turning to exit the bookshop, coffee in hand. The last thing he wanted right now was to leave Crowley's side and the sanctity of their little world - he knew that the significance of what they had just witnessed between Gabriel and Beelzebub would not be lost on the demon, and he desperately wanted to talk about it with him. When Aziraphale had intuitively reached for him, he was sure he had seen Crowley give a small nod, as if to say, "I know, angel."

The thought that he might finally give a voice to what they had been dancing around for years made him feel as though he was in a freefall - Aziraphale took a long swig from the sweet almond coffee to try and ground himself and glanced back at the Metatron.

"Sit, sit, dear boy," said Metatron, gesturing to a small table and chairs.

Aziraphale sat, hands fluttering anxiously. He put them back on the coffee to stop himself and took another sip.

"Now, I shall get right to the point. It seems we are down an Archangel." The Metatron smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Do you have any thoughts on who might be best suited to replace them?"

Aziraphale paused. Why was the Metatron asking him for advice? "Well... Michael?"

"Oh, don't be silly! No, no, no, no, no. There's only one candidate who makes even the slightest bit of sense."

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"And that's you."

Aziraphale blinked. Had he heard that correctly? "Me?"

"Well, yes. You're a leader, you're honest, you don't just tell people what they want to hear. It's why Gabriel came to you in the first place, I imagine."

Aziraphale's mouth dropped open in astonishment, struggling for words. He had always believed that those qualities had contributed to his exile from Heaven, and yet the Metatron was telling him that these were reasons he should be... promoted? In charge? Surely there was no way that this offer could be genuine.

The Metatron continued, before Aziraphale had a chance to pick that thread apart. "There are huge plans afoot, enormous projects, and I will need you to run them."

Aziraphale paused. In a flash, he remembered what Crowley had said four years previously about The Big One. Us against humanity. Left in the hands of Michael, or Uriel, or any of those bad angels, he could only begin to imagine what would befall Earth. Humanity wouldn't stand a chance. The angels didn't understand anything about what it truly meant to be human... or even what it meant to be good.

"You are just the angel for the job." The Metatron smiled, and in spite of himself, Aziraphale thought that he was probably right about that.

But no... he couldn't leave Earth. His bookshop. Crowley. This peaceful, fragile existence. "But I... I don't want to go back to Heaven. W-where would I get my coffee?"

The Metatron's eyes grew steelier and Aziraphale realised that he understood that this wasn't about coffee. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortably. How much did he know?

"You know..." Metatron phrased the words very carefully, "as Supreme Archangel, you would be able to decide who to work with. I've been looking back over a number of your previous exploits..." Aziraphale swallowed nervously, "and I see that in quite a few of them you formed a de facto partnership with the demon, Crowley."

The name hung in the air between them. Aziraphale glanced away. Apparently he knew quite a lot.

"Now, if you wanted to work with him again, that... might be considered irregular, but it would certainly be within your jurisdiction to restore your friend Crowley to full angelic status."

The impact of the statement took a while to register. Aziraphale blinked. In his mind's eye, he flashed back to the first time he had ever interacted with the angel-that-had-been-Crowley. It was at the creation of the universe, and he recalled with a pang the joy on his face, the sheer exuberance and excitement that had left a lasting impression on the more junior angel. Crowley as an angel had been magical, magnificent to behold. And Aziraphale knew better than anyone that Crowley had never deserved to Fall. Crowley had no memories of his time spent as an angel, but Aziraphale remembered. He remembered it all.

He was so lost in thought that he missed the triumphant glint in the Metatron's eyes.

"I... well, I don't quite know what to say," began Aziraphale, but Metatron held up a finger to halt him.

"It's just an option. One of many powers you will have as Supreme Archangel. A word to the wise, though..." Metatron leaned in conspiratorially. "There has been some talk that this partnership is all simply a part of Hell's... how shall we put it... long game."

Aziraphale was lost. "What do you mean?"

"Well there is a rumour that Hell assigned some specific demons to tempt angels away from Heaven..." Metatron paused, choosing his phrasing with care. "I personally didn't believe it myself until the utter disaster with Gabriel. Quite a shock, I can tell you. I never thought Gabriel would be vulnerable to demonic influences, but I suppose you never can tell..."

Aziraphale inhaled sharply. "I can assure you -" he began, but the Metatron interrupted.

"Oh, my dear boy, I am certain that you would never fall prey to a demon's wiles. You are far too intelligent for that." The Metatron looked Aziraphale coolly in the eyes, but there was a question there. A question Aziraphale didn't want to examine too closely. He looked down at the coffee in his hands, and recalled the night he and Crowley had spent in Job's basement.

Are you... trying to tempt me?

Not at all, angels can't be tempted, can you?

The taste of those ox ribs. The way once he'd tasted it, he'd realised he was so hungry, not just hungry, but ravenous. Starved.

Aziraphale pushed the thought away, but as soon as he pushed it away, another thought barrelled in to take its place. The first time Crowley had convinced him to try wine, promising him that a drop wouldn't hurt. The first gift he had ever been given, a book, his first material Earthly possession, gifted to him by Crowley. The way Crowley had convinced him that there was no point in doing Good if they were always cancelling each other out. The way Aziraphale had done so many small, little, bad things because Crowley had assured him it didn't matter. Each memory was like a gut punch.

But no.

No.

He knew Crowley. Yes, he was a demon, but he wasn't bad. At least, not all bad.

"I believe you are quite wrong," stated Aziraphale boldly, sitting up straight. "The demon Crowley has, over the many years we have spent... I mean, over the time we have known one another, done many kind and Good things. He is better than half the angels I know! Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon, they don't have half his compassion, his honesty, his bravery. I believe God was mistaken in..." Aziraphale's brave defence faltered as Metatron's eyebrows raised. "I mean, I think sometimes people deserve a second chance."

Metatron nodded. "Perhaps it is as you say." He stood, and Aziraphale followed suit.

Aziraphale glanced back at the bookshop. All he wanted now was to get back to Crowley. He knew that talking with him would alleviate these fears. Crowley might not want to go to Heaven, but surely he would see that it was the safest place for them to be? Especially if their fears about The Big One were correct? In spite of everything Crowley felt about Heaven, he was certain that Crowley would see it was the only way they could save the world they had both come to cherish. And perhaps he'd see a glimmer of that happy angel he'd known so long ago... before Aziraphale had put thoughts into his head, thoughts that had ultimately led to...

Aziraphale shook the thoughts away.

"Uh, thank you for this... chat... I really had better get back to the bookshop," Aziraphale said delicately.

"Well, you don't have to answer immediately," said the Metatron, "Take all the time you need."

His expression, however, demanded urgency.

"I... I don't know what to say," Aziraphale faltered. He needed Crowley. He couldn't make this decision without him.

"Well then, go and tell your friend the good news," said the Metatron measuredly. Good news.

Would Crowley see it that way?

Aziraphale very much doubted it. As he crossed the street, he resolved that he was going to hard-sell Heaven to Crowley no matter what. Above everything else, he wanted Crowley to be safe. He wanted humanity to be safe. And the only way that was going to happen is if he had a voice. He exhaled, steeling himself for what he knew was going to be a very difficult pitch.

The bell tinkled as he entered, and he saw Maggie and Nina walking toward the exit. "We're just going," smiled Maggie. "I'm sure you two have a lot to say," Nina added, and they exited.

Aziraphale took another deep breath as his eyes fell on Crowley. Crowley was sat in his usual chair, leaning forward with his dark glasses on, his mouth hanging open as if in surprise. He thought, with a sudden rush of feelings, how accustomed he had become to seeing the demon here, and how comfortable Crowley had made himself here. These days he almost always took his glasses off around the shop, a level of vulnerability Crowley had only recently managed in the last year or so.

Crowley, noticing Aziraphale, suddenly stood, removing his glasses. Aziraphale felt his resolve soften as he looked into the demon's wide yellow eyes with their trademark snakelike slits. Yellow really was the most beautiful colour. He was so busy staring that he didn't even realise Crowley had begun to speak.

"Look, I suppose, um... I've got something to say. I know we ought to be talking about... uh, it's probably best if I start off doing all the talking, you do all the listening, 'cause if I don't start talking now, I won't ever start talking, right? Yes, so -"

Aziraphale barely heard a word of what the demon was saying. This wasn't uncommon when Crowley was around, Aziraphale did have a tendency to get a little distracted - but this time it was because he was desperately trying to think of the right arrangement of words that would help Crowley adjust to what he was about to hear.

"What's that lovely human expression?" interjected Aziraphale, flailing his arms wildly. He was feeling giddy. "Oh yes, hold that thought!" He pasted on a wide grin. Sell it, sell it, he told himself. "You see, I have some incredibly good news to give you!"

Crowley didn't look particularly pleased so far. "Really?"

"I, um... so, uh, um..." Aziraphale's arms were still doing most of the talking for him whilst he frantically tried to explain. "The Metatron, you know, I don't think he's as bad a fellow... Well, I think I might have misjudged him. You see, I... Well, he said, um..." Aziraphale noticed Crowley's expression darken with mistrust. Oops. Go bigger. "He said that Gabriel, obviously hadn't worked out..." Aziraphale laughed nervously, "as Supreme Archangel and Commander of the Heavenly Host, and he asked who I thought should take over in Heaven now that Gabriel was gone. And I said Michael, to which he laughed, and said there was only one candidate who made the slightest bit of sense. Me."

Crowley's face was frozen. It was hard to assess how he was taking this. "And I said, 'me?' And he said that I was a leader, honest, I didn't tell people what they wanted to hear and that they needed me. Of course I was surprised - I mean, obviously - and of course I said I didn't want to go, because... well... but then..." Aziraphale paused and took a step closer to Crowley, his entire face lighting up. "He said that if I was Archangel, I could restore you to be an angel. Full angelic status."

A beat. "He said what?"

"He said I could appoint you to be an angel." Aziraphale couldn't help beaming. Crowley deserved to be restored, deserved it more than anyone, in spite of everything Metatron had said, he knew that Crowley should never have Fallen. "You could come back to Heaven and... and everything. Like the old times. Only even nicer."

Aziraphale's smile lit up the room as Crowley held his gaze. "Right. And you told him just where he could stick it, then?"

Aziraphale's smile faltered. What had gone wrong? "Not at all..."

Crowley shook his head slowly. "Oh, we're better than that, you're better than that, angel! You don't need them, I certainly don't need them!" Crowley began pacing, avoiding Aziraphale's gaze. "Look, they asked me back to Hell, I said no, I'm not rejoining their team, neither should you!" His yellow eyes met Aziraphale's again and they were awash with confusion.

Aziraphale fumbled. "But.. well, obviously you said no to Hell, you're the bad guys." He saw Crowley's face change. Whoops. He should have said THEY are the bad guys. Crowley was anything but bad, and that was precisely the point he was trying to make. "But Heaven... Well, it's the side of Truth, of Light... of Good." And that's why you belong there.

"When Heaven ends life here on Earth, it'll be just as dead as if Hell ended it," growled Crowley.

Aziraphale was flustered now - this hadn't gone how he thought it would, at all.

"Tell me you said no," Crowley begged. Aziraphale looked away, avoiding the way Crowley's body broke a little as he stepped forward into the silence. His voice when it came out was devoid of all his usual venom. It was almost soft, pleading. "Tell me you said no."

"If... I'm in charge, I can make a difference," Aziraphale said. It sounded so lame and contrite given the weight of the conversation, but he really meant it. The angel had endured so much loss that he had been unable to control, so many of God's choices he had been unable to question or challenge. How many times had he had to sit back and endure human tragedies at the hand of God, wrestling with himself to try and believe that it was for the Greater Good but never understanding why. This was his opportunity to finally understand God's will - and perhaps even try to alter it.

Crowley sighed deeply and began pacing again. "Oh... Oh, God." He gulped. "Right, okay. Right. I didn't get a chance to say what I was going to say, I think I'd better say it now. Right. Okay. Yes. So." Crowley sighed, and Aziraphale noticed that the demon was almost imperceptibly shaking.

The energy in the room shifted instantly. Aziraphale instantly knew that whatever Crowley was about to say was going to change things. Permanently.

"We've known each other a long time."

This was it.

"We've been on this planet a long time. I mean, you and me."

He wasn't ready.

"I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me."

How long had he waited to hear these words? Words he was sure would never come. Crowley never spoke like this, not ever. Aziraphale's eyes flicked to the street where he could see the Metatron standing by Muriel and he shifted uneasily.

"We're a team. A group. A group of the two of us."

Aziraphale's blue eyes widened. This was really happening.

"And we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't." Crowley's voice cracked.

Aziraphale's mouth struggled to find words, but no sound came out. Crowley hadn't looked away from him once, but broke their gaze now.

"I mean, the last few years, not really." Crowley looked around the bookshop and Aziraphale knew that they were both thinking of the last four years they had spent together on Earth. No longer having to pretend to be on opposite sides. No longer having to deny their affection for one another. It had still been unspoken, but it had been allowed. They had allowed a life to grow, here.

"And I would like to spend -" Crowley began, but as his eyes met the angel's, he choked on the words. He looked away again, growled, exhaled, then regained his composure, whilst Aziraphale stared at the demon as though he were a freight train coming straight at him. Was Crowley really trying to say what he thought he was trying to say?

"I mean, if Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, go off together, then we can." Crowley's voice was desperate, pleading. Aziraphale had never seen Crowley like this before.

It scared him.

Crowley was always the strong one, always the brave one, always coming to his rescue. Despite knowing the demon had a softer side, Aziraphale had come to rely on the demon's hard exterior. You always knew where you stood. Except now, he really didn't.

"Just the two of us. We don't need Heaven, we don't need Hell, they're toxic! We need to get away from them, just be an us."

An us.

In all honesty, they had been an us for quite some time now, and they both knew it. It was just one of those things they didn't say. Except all of a sudden Crowley had changed the rules and Aziraphale didn't know what his part was in this new dynamic. He felt lost. All he knew, all he had ever known, and all he had ever tried to do, was the Right Thing.

"You and me, what do you say?" finished Crowley, his eyes wide. Pleading. Hoping.

An eternity seemed to pass as Aziraphale stared into Crowley's open, hopeful face. He reminded him then of the angel he had been. It reminded Aziraphale again of what they had both lost, and what stood to be lost now. And even though Aziraphale had dreamed of this moment many times, in many ways, over many years - and in no version of his imaginings had he ever rejected the demon's affections - he knew that he could never place his own selfish wants over what was right. He wouldn't be able to live with himself.

"Come with me," he implored, stepping closer to Crowley, his blue eyes begging the demon to see reason. "To Heaven. I'll run it, you can be my second in command. We can make a difference."

Crowley looked stunned. "You can't leave this bookshop."

Aziraphale almost laughed. How could Crowley be thinking about the bookshop at a time like this? Humanity was at stake, for crying out loud! If they remained here on Earth and let Heaven and Hell wage their wars, there wouldn't be much of anything left, let alone a bookshop. The existence Crowley wanted wouldn't even be possible.

"Oh Crowley," Aziraphale said softly. "Nothing lasts forever."

Crowley's entire demeanour changed. He wilted, and with horror Aziraphale saw tears glisten in his beautiful yellow eyes. Crowley's face, that had moments ago been so expressive and open, turned to its usual impassive state. "No," said Crowley quietly, blinking and looking away. "No, I don't suppose it does." He put his dark glasses on, and Aziraphale realised that Crowley had read something into his words that he hadn't meant. "Good luck," he said flatly, and walked past Aziraphale to the exit.

Aziraphale felt the world drop out from beneath his feet. "Good luck? Crowley!"

He watched his demon pause, momentarily, then turn around. He knew he had to say something to convince Crowley to stay. He knew trying to convince Crowley it would be a good idea to go to Heaven would be tricky, but he knew that Crowley was at heart a GOOD person. He had to appeal to that.

"Crowley, come back! To Heaven! Work with me!" He saw Crowley's deadpan face and realised, with some shame, that he hadn't truly responded to any of the wonderful things Crowley had tried to say to him. Crowley had dropped his defences and tried to redefine their relationship and Aziraphale found himself unexpectedly unable to reciprocate. The words just wouldn't come. He gulped, now, examining his own feelings.

Did he care for Crowley?

Yes.

Did he love Crowley?

Yes.

Did he want to spend his existence with Crowley?

Yes.

But did he feel deep shame and guilt for loving him, a demon?

Also, yes.

Aziraphale tried. "We can be together!" he clasped his hands together, as if trying to press together what he wanted and what was right. "Angels! Doing good!"

Crowley wouldn't even look at him.

The feeling of the Earth falling away came back to him. He was really about to lose Crowley. "I - I need you!"

Crowley looked at him then. They were both remembering the many times they had protested quite the opposite over the years. Crowley looked unimpressed.

Aziraphale felt his whole body burn with frustration - he was offering Crowley a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity here. Fallen angels never came back to Heaven, not ever. And he knew Crowley deserved to be there. He wanted to undo the mistake he had made all those millennia ago, the guilty truth he had never forgiven himself for. He swallowed back a lump in his throat as he recalled the last moments before Crowley fell, how the angel had sought out Aziraphale's face in the crowds, his eyes wide and wild, hopeful and scared - and how Aziraphale had looked away. This was his chance to put Crowley back where he belonged. "I don't think you understand what I'm offering you."

"I understand," said Crowley flatly. "I think I understand a whole lot better than you do."

And that was the moment Aziraphale knew he'd lost him.

The world fell away, for good. Somehow he stayed standing. "Well... then there's nothing more to say."

Crowley was only two feet away but it felt like miles. And soon the distance would be a lot further.

"Listen," said Crowley, pointing up. "Do you hear that?"

Aziraphale barely heard him over the sound of his own panicked thoughts. "I... I don't hear anything," he said, unable to keep the frustration from his voice.

"That's the point," said Crowley, his words dripping with emotion. "No nightingales."

At the mention of nightingales, something hardened in Aziraphale. More unspoken understandings between them. The song 'A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square' had been playing on the night their life together began, the night they were freed from the confines of pretending they were on opposite sides. Neither of them had ever mentioned it, but Aziraphale knew it was a song that signified their relationship, their partnership, their freedom. No more nightingales meant no more them. Crowley was saying, in his own way, in the cruellest way, that they were over.

He saw something like satisfaction in Crowley's face as he realised the hit had landed. "You idiot," continued Crowley, frustration etched on every line of his face. "We could've been... us."

Aziraphale was the one to turn away now, hiding tears that had betrayed his resolve. Did Crowley think he didn't know what he was giving up? All he had ever wanted... but not at the cost of life on Earth. He couldn't bear to watch his demon leave, to walk away forever, if he looked at him a moment longer he knew he wouldn't be able to go through with it.

He heard footsteps, and closed his eyes, not wanting to see Crowley leaving - but instead felt a rough tug at his lapels, and before he knew it, he felt Crowley's lips on his. The shock reverberated through his entire body and his instinctive reaction was to pull away, no, I can't, I can't he thought desperately... but the warmth of Crowley's lips, the feeling of his body so close, the fact that it had taken six thousand years to finally close the gap between them, it was impossible to resist. It felt so good, to finally be... us. Despite himself, Aziraphale's hands stopped fluttering, and he pulled Crowley closer, giving in to the temptation.

The temptation.

Aziraphale's hands flew off the demon.

Hell assigned some specific demons to tempt angels away from Heaven...

Crowley let go of Aziraphale and Aziraphale gasped, overcome with a torrent of emotions. He hadn't known he'd wanted this until the feel of Crowley's lips pressing into his. It had taken a moment but the craving it had awoken in him raged through his body, a betrayal against all that he tried so hard to be. It felt exactly like that night in Job's basement, all those years ago... He wanted Crowley. His entire being ached to close the space between them again. He wanted so badly to forget all about the Metatron, Heaven, Hell, everything, and just throw himself back into Crowley's arms. But he'd been tempted, hadn't he? The serpent did what he does best, what he does so well, so slyly, what he's done for thousands of years... Aziraphale felt something inside him break, deeply, as he realised that, regardless of whether or not Hell was behind it, he had been tempted, and failed to pass the test yet again.

Aziraphale felt a cold, righteous anger sweep over him.

Crowley was staring at him expectantly. What did he expect? A declaration of love after having completely manipulated the angel's feelings?

I won't let you have the satisfaction of knowing how much you tempted me. How much you hurt me.

"I... I forgive you," Aziraphale said unsteadily, clenching his jaw in resolve. He regretted it the moment he said it.

Crowley sighed, a deep sigh. "Don't bother."

With that, the demon turned and finally left the bookshop.

Crumbling, Aziraphale let the tears come. He lifted his fingers to his lips, allowing himself for just a moment to remember what it felt like. He had never been kissed before, he had always thought it a peculiar human oddity, to press their faces together to show affection - he had not expected it to feel warm, to feel intimate, to feel like they were communicating in ways that could never be put into words. It was... magical.

But then he remembered who he was. Or at least, who he was supposed to be. Not an angel in love with a demon. An angel who did The Right Thing. An angel like that does not get tempted away from doing The Right Thing. If he was going to be Supreme Archangel, he had to be THAT version of himself.

He wiped the kiss away from his lips with vehemence. He would not allow himself to think about it, or Crowley, anymore.

Because if I did, I would run back to you...

As Aziraphale struggled to regain control of his emotions, the bell tinkled, and for a moment, one glorious moment, Aziraphale thought it was Crowley coming back to straighten everything out. Turning, he felt his hope fade as he saw the Metatron striding in. Quickly turning away to wipe the tears that threatened to fall and betray his emotion, he gave himself a quick talking to. This was no time for weakness.

"Well? How did he take it?"

Aziraphale said, truthfully, "Uh... not well." He chuckled nervously. He didn't want the Metatron to interfere with Crowley. He knew he needed to be careful about what he said.

"Ah, well, always did want to go his own way," said the Metatron dismissively.

Aziraphale stole a glance outside the bookshop and saw Crowley standing by the Bentley.

"Always asking damn fool questions, too," said the Metatron. Aziraphale recognised that this comment was a disguised warning to himself - don't ask questions. "Right, ready to start?"

Aziraphale felt his heart lurch. Hadn't the Metatron said he had plenty of time to decide? "I..." He glanced once again at the tall, dark figure standing outside. Crowley was stood completely still, watching Aziraphale from the street. Waiting? "My bookshop!" stammered Aziraphale desperately, trying to think of a way to give himself a little more time.

"Ye-es, well, for now, I've entrusted it to Muriel," said the Metatron matter-of-factly, indicating the young angel who waved exuberantly from the window. "So it should be in good hands."

"But..." Aziraphale stared out at the street. At him.

"Anything you need to take with you?" asked the Metatron.

Him, thought Aziraphale. Just him.

The Metatron's energy was cold, and forceful. Aziraphale could feel it coming off him in waves. He knew, somehow, that he had been backed into a corner. "No... nothing I can think of."

The Metatron made an affirmative noise and made to move towards the door, and it all suddenly hit Aziraphale - if he went with the Metatron now, it would really be over. No more cosy bookshop, no more books. No more sushi, no more sherry. No more music, no more plays. No more nightingales. A flash of what returning to Heaven would actually mean suddenly cut through Aziraphale and he understood, finally, what Crowley had been trying to tell him. There would be no going back.

Overcome, he rushed forward. "I think I -" he burst out, but stopped himself.

For once in your soft, silly life, do the Right Thing, angel! Aziraphale told himself sternly. This is about more than you and... him. He took one last look at Crowley. Leaning against the car on the street outside, the demon hadn't moved an inch, his dark-shaded eyes fixated on the inside of the bookshop.

"Nothing at all," said Aziraphale, straightening himself up and exiting the shop, plastering a fake smile on his face.

The street was busy, and Aziraphale could feel a pair of snakelike eyes burning into the back of his head but he wasn't going to look. If he looked, he'd run...

As they approached the entrance to the elevator that would take him to his new job, Metatron smiled at Aziraphale in a way that was intended to be reassuring but sent chills down Aziraphale's spine. "Well, I can't think of a better Angel to wrap things up, and to set into motion the next step in the Great Plan."

Aziraphale started. This was why he'd taken the job. This is why he'd forsaken everything he'd ever wanted. "Um, yes, you mentioned that. Can I know... what it is?"

"Well, it's something we need an angel of your talents to direct. An angel who is familiar with how they do things on Earth."

Aziraphale felt himself relax somewhat. Perhaps he had been mistaken and Heaven really was beginning to consider the merits of humanity. He began to smile.

The Metatron turned as the elevator doors opened. "We call it the second coming."

Aziraphale's face dropped its smile, now stricken with panic and fear. The second coming wasn't a fluffy visit from Jesus as most people believed... the second coming meant Judgement Day, when all of humanity would be judged and those found wanting would be thrown into Hellfire. The world, as they knew it, would be over.

The Metatron turned and looked at Aziraphale with steely eyes. Aziraphale felt as though the being could see into his innermost thoughts and tried to rearrange his expression. He looked away... to his left, the tall, dark figure of Crowley still leaned against the car. Definitely waiting. Aziraphale realised Crowley was holding on to the hope that at the last moment, Aziraphale would change his mind and choose their life on Earth.

But what will that be worth if we end up with no Earth left to live on, my dear?

It took every bit of strength Aziraphale had ever had to tear his eyes, his heart, his everything, away from the life he could have had and walk into that elevator. He sighed, inwardly letting go of it all. As he entered, it almost felt as though every step was being taken by someone else, and the smile on his face was a ghost of himself. He was so focused on appearing normal that he didn't notice the Metatron's sigh of relief and smile of victory as the doors slid closed.

"Going up," said the disembodied voice, and they began to move up towards Heaven. Every second that passed, Aziraphale felt his anxiety rise.

The second coming.

Judgement Day.

What had he done? How on Earth could he possibly circumnavigate this? And on his own? Without...

With another pang, Aziraphale realised that Crowley would be Judged just like everybody else. He knew in his heart that Crowley wasn't completely bad, but he had always been under the impression that Judgement Day was very black-and-white when it came to who was deemed righteous and who was not. He could lose him. He could lose everyone - and this time, it would be all his fault. No chance to shrug and complain that someone else had the power this time.

What could he do? What could he actually do?

As the elevator continued to take them higher and higher, Aziraphale racked his brains, and Crowley's words suddenly sprang into his mind. "Just to be able to ask the questions..."

Slowly, a plan began to form in his mind.

A plan that would begin... with a suggestion box.

Aziraphale smiled.

Please visit me on AO3 and leave feedback! 🤍

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heavens-aesthetic-kitchen · 11 days

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Why the TF2 Defense Trio deserve more recognition

The people have spoken, I have decided to create an essay disguised as a post on this godforsaken website because it's a free country goddammit! (I would have done it either way lmaooo, I have a lot of shit to say about these maniacs) To start this formal essay glorified very serious shitpost, why should you as a tf2 fan care about these 3 men? They're so "boring" and there's not much going on with them. If ya took a second, let's pause with what was being said. YOU MUST BE OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND to think such thoughts, we must shake you out of cuckoo land by giving you an in-depth look into these three so that you understand where I'm coming from. Let's start in order:

Demoman:

After being in the fandom since 2019, there's always one character I always thought wasn't given much anything in the fandom at all. Even taking ships out of the equation, there's barely any fics I've that focus on Tavish Finneagan Degroot specifically that I've seen that isn't a compilation fic (I read a lot of x readers, don't judge me). Believe me, I checked ao3. I went through Demoman's tags and I tried very hard to filter a lot of the crossover and relationship tags, yet there's less of Demoman himself, than there's him just existing as a side character of a story. Which is honestly sad, I honestly think Demo is one of the more kinder mercs compared to a lot of the team. This man made friends with the BLU soldier, despite knowing that they were supposed to be killing each other. Sure, it's unclear whether or not Demo did actually go through with it and it's just a ruse, because the voicelines in WAR! don't have a set timeline. But I do think that Demo would have tried to keep his friendship with BLU soldier. He's very chill. I've never actually seen him get violent against his friends and family, despite being a drunkard. I honestly think he's one of the sweetest people in TF2, he takes good care of his mom and haunted sword lmaoooo. Jokes aside, he seems like a genuinely good man and I barely see anything that suggests he's sadistic. He's a chaotic and loud, but not bad. Not bad at all. The fact he can still do his job well, even after drinking so much that his body created a whole distillery, is even more impressive. He is damn good at what he does and works very hard. He's had multiple jobs, even as wee little lad. Despite what people think of him, the fact he's getting paid 5 million dollars a year, is proof he knows what he's doing. He loves his job and couldn't bear the thought of not working. I feel like his backstory isn't talked about enough in the fandom either. When you think about it, it's kinda fucked up that he was put in an orphanage by his biological parents until he was in the right age to be blowing people up. Not only that, his eye socket was haunted by the Bombinomicon so that every halloween a giant eye would manifest, attacking him and his friends. Even Medic couldn't help him and instead resorting to scooping the part of Demo's brain where he remembered so he would stop asking. He most likely has a lot of stories for you, I see him as the type that has a lot to say. His past is the most fleshed out and complete out of all the mercs, which I really appreciate, you can do a lot more with him. Also another thing, during Unhappy Returns, he took the time to reassure Soldier that he wouldn't think he's a civilian. He didn't brush Soldier's worries aside and instead comforted him. I wish I had a lot more to say about Demo because I am baffled that he isn't being gushed about as a potential partner. He has the excitement and like zero baggage. A thing I also wanna point out is that he seems to be insecure of the fact he's a black scottish man with only one eye during Meet The Demoman. I may be reading into things a bit too much, but it makes me wanna be like "NOOOO don't talk about yourself like that, bro. You're so cute UGHHH" Also also he's handsome. Sure looks can be subjective, but I still think Demo has a face I would kiss hehe. He looks great with his beard and his cheeky ass smile. GOD I could gush about him all day, but I have to move on rip.

Heavy:

Honestly, I'm having a hard time just finding the words to describe this amazing man without giving him the respect he deserves. But I'll sure try. Heavy has had a difficult life and I've always admired how strong he was. Not just of his muscles, but he endured one of the toughest situations and still kept moving forward with his life even though it was traumatizing. You see why I'm even having a hard time talking about him? I can't really get down into the weeds, without getting serious for a min. I feel like the fandom doesn't give him much credit for being able to deal with so much. He's the rock for his family after his father disappeared (atp I think he's dead, which is the cherry on top this depressing sundae) and I wouldn't doubt that he would be the same for his team. He's a man of few words, but that makes him all the more intriguing. Just because this man has a lot of brawn does not mean he's dumb at all. Despite how he acts in the battlefield, Heavy is observant and clever. Although, it's implied that Spy being Scout's dad is an open secret between the mercs and Miss Pauling, the fact he figured it out without saying it directly must mean he has a lot more going on. He's also educated, getting a phD in Russian Literature. It's not a STEM program, but he actually got a doctorate and went to college, that's a lot more than half of what the mercs did lmaooo. Also he has a bit of a softie side, not just for his mom and sisters, but also other creatures as well. I respect him so much for avoiding violence against those dogs during the Showdown comic. Not only shows what an absolute sweetheart he is, but also how much he's able to think quickly on his feet. Heavy is very direct and blunt, I don't see him as the type to lie about his feelings. I appreciate that he doesn't feel the need to sugarcoat anything, he'll get the job done and he ain't playing. There's no fluff, he knows what he wants and that's to rev up Sasha and ram through sons of bitches without any worries.

I feel like I wanna point out, his story seems the most unexplored in the fandom, even though it has a lot of potential for ANGST factor. I already broke down how sad it is, but I just feel like it isn't said enough. Can I just say how cuddly he looks?! GAH, I feel like he would give the warmest hugs! The way he smiled in Unhappy Returns when he finds out his family doesn't need to live in fear anymore, just melts my heart! He's so protective over his family and friends! I wish I had a lot more to say about this guy because I just can't stop finding more things about him that go unappreciated. I had to literally edit this part so many times before moving on, he just has those little details you don't notice until you take a second and have that OH MY GOD moment

Engineer:

I was getting so hyped, when it was finally our resident southern nerd's time to shine. GOD I have so much to say about this man. It's been over 5 fucking years and I have never stopped simping for this man since 2019, I think I'm gonna go insane from how much I've been repressing, I go feral when he's around. Anyways enough stalling. I don't ever think a fictional character has ever made me swoon quite like Engineer, I really mean that. I have ask and pleaded to whatever god was listening to give me a man like Engie. To me, he is everything I ever wanted and more.

First, I wanna talk about what makes him attractive to me. His accent. His southern charm, UGH he's killing me with that smooth voice and chivalry! I swear this man could make me faint just from existing. The way he smiles is so warm, his insults are so corny I love them. That five o clock shadow GAHH! I'm getting butterflies all over again. I swear I love all three of the defense bois, but Dell Conagher has my heart wrapped around his gunslinger metal finger. All those personal reasons aside, I've always thought Dell Conagher was a very interesting character in the world of TF2. He might not have much screen time or goofy shenanigans like the other mercs, but that doesn't mean you can ignore him oh no no no. This man is important within the whole story of Mann Co and TF industries, his grandfather being the catalyst of the game's events and the comics going forward. The Conaghers are the SOLE REASON why Team Fortress 2's story exists. I find it strange that the fandom hasn't done much with this fact because you can do a lot with this idea. Engineer knows a lot of shit and would be the biggest threat to Helen, if not for the fact that his family has been helping her for years.

Like his backstory, he's not seen much in the battlefield, but he has a lot more going on behind the scenes. Imagine the possibilities. He is damn intelligent and he knows it. While Dell is very sweet and has a southern charm, this is a facade to hide his God complex and sadistic tendencies. If you think this man is just your boring gentle engineer, you've got a big storm coming. It's heavily implied that he sawed off his own arm so that he could use the gunslinger. This man works on projects with Medic and doesn't question the moral implications of putting a human brain in a pumpkin. Hell, he threatened his own employer, even if he was an old man (Granted, Blutarch dug up his grandpa's grave, so he probably should have gotten something a lot worse than just Dell telling him to fuck off). Engineer is more than the texan egghead sweetie pie, he is a mercenary for a reason and I would argue that he might be as insane, if not more than, the rest of the team. No sane man would willingly work with a bunch of war criminals if he wasn't also crazy. That's the thing I really like about him. I love playing as him in the game because it represents his character very well. He technically serves a supportive role to the team with his buildings, but he is a killer with a lot of tools in his disposal, With the right amount of training, he can absolutely dominate in the battlefield.

I feel like he's one of the people that underestimate and assume that he's an easy target, but he's a lot more than that. He has a lot of layers that makes me want to learn more about him and what he has to offer.

In Conclusion:

These guys are cool. Lmaooo okay I won't just end it there. I genuinely believe that they're not getting the recognition that they deserve, they've got a lot more going for them if you pay attention. Sure they might not always be the loudest or most prominant character in the story, but what they lack in quantity, they make up for in quality TEN FOLD. They don't have to be your favourite, but you should at least give them a chance. You never know, they may surprise you.

Okay so thats enough of that, I couldn't find a divider above this message, so you're getting this grainy ass gif. Honestly, I put way too much effort on this shitpost lmaooo, but I just wanted to get my thoughts out in a more concise manner. If you want to add more stuff about these three that I didn't mention, feel free to do so. Anyways thanks for reading

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #tf2 heavy #tf2 engie #tf2 demo #tf2 mikhail #tf2 defense #i spent way too long on this post than I should have bruh #enjoy the ramblings of a thirsty idiot #defense nation rise up

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tiredgoodomensfan · 21 days

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Fuck it we ball fanfic time. Gn reader x lars pinfield WOO

Okay WOO lmk if this is shit or ooc or anything, but im pretty happy with how this went :D its a little rushed, might redo it in the future idk. Also i made Y/N bit too much like me (northern) so watch out for that american readers SORRYYY. anwyays enjoy!

I am smart.

No don't laugh, I am, genuinely I am.

Maybe not in the way that others deem important, maybe not in the traditional sense, but I am bright.

Pinfield doesn't think so, the prick.

Every day I come into work, all smiling and welcoming, and what do I get in return? A roll of the eyes if I'm lucky.

Dickhead.

But I don't let him get to me, I love my job. My boss is chill, I love hanging out with Lucky, and the Spenglers seem nice! It's a good gig, really.

I'm the "PR guy" for Ghost Corps. Every time they fuck up and destroy a building or whatever I'm the one who covers it up. I'm a real smooth talker, 'gift of the gab' my mum used to call it.

The team needs me, I know that, they know that. Im crucial to the whole operation, the sole reason why that whiny mayor dude hasnt shut them down.

I'm the one who goes to press interviews, who goes on the radio or on TV. I'm the social media manager, I make videos, and post tweets, fuck I've even started a Ghostbusters youtube account! I deserve a raise honestly. #justiceforY/NthePRguy

I get on with everyone at work except for Pinfield, and I genuinely dont know why.

I've tried getting him to feature in videos, or explain the science of stuff to me so I can actually seem like I know what I'm talking about- but he just brushes me off.

Gary tries to reassure me about this on a daily basis. "Its nothing to do with you Y/N" he smiled one day, putting a hand on my shoulder and guiding me away from the busy scientist. "He doesnt really talk to anyone, he gets really passionate about his work"

"I get that, but there's no need for him to be a dick to me, he's got me thinking all kinds of shit honestly!" I replied, exhasperated "I've never done nowt to him"

Suddenly, Pinfield raised his head from his work, scrunching his eyebrows together. "thats a double negative" he commented, looking at me as if I was stupid. Great, It's the most he's ever spoken to me and its a fucking insult- atleast I think it is.

"you what?" I ask, making my way over to him despite Garys protests. I fold my arms, looking as menacing as i can (which ive been told isn't very menacing at all)

"I said its a double negative, if you've never done nothing then you must've done something" before I can reply, he adds onto the end "which you haven't, by the way. I dont know why you think that. I treat you the same as anyone else"

I can't explain why his answer bothers me so much, but it does. Why does he view me in the same way he views the others? That's hardly fair. I'm always welcoming to him, I make time out of my day to include him in things. I hate to admit it, but I genuinely admire him aswell. His love for all things paranormal, the way he gets so excited and proud when he gets to explain the science of ghost-catching to someone. It's oddly endearing.

I tell him as much (excpet for the stuff about him being endearing, he doenst need his ego inflated any more than it already is)

He looks confused, I've never seen him look like that- its weird. Arrogant? sure. Annoyed? when is he not bffr. Happy? Once or twice. But confused? Weird. This is the guy with all the answers, the smart one.

He thinks for a moment, before seemingly making a desision. He stands up with a small huff of exhasperation, and walks off.

As he goes past me, he grabs my arm, more gently than I thought he was capable of. Okay, i guess im coming too. Fun, roadtrip time.

He takes me out of the lab and down the corridor, into a relatively well lit small room.

"Well this is-" before i can speak properly, he cuts me off. Told you he was a prick.

"I dont understand you Y/N" he blurts out, looking at me, as if I'm some sort of specimin hes studying in the lab.

"Well good." I joke. I dont like the serious tone he's taking. Dont like how aware I am of his gaze. HATE the fact I can feel my cheeks burning. Gross. Pinfield is a dick, we've established this. Why the fuck am I BLUSHING because he's LOOKING at me? Bit embarassing, pull it together Y/LN.

He doenst like this though. He shakes his head, pacing around.

"No Y/N you dont get it. I understand everyone, sort of anyways. I've observed them, I can predict their reactions to things. I know what they're all like- but you're... I just dont understand! You're so happy and nice all the time, but you also get angry at stupid stuff, but never really properly angry? I cant make sense of it, genuinely. You've not done anything wrong, you can't do anything wrong. Thats frustrating too. It's like you're this perfect, beautiful person, and I've been trying to see flaws but I cant-" He rambles, speaking like hes just letting out one stream of constant thoughts. He seems stressed, poor guy.

I interupt him, grabbing his arm. "Hey, c'mon Pinfi- I- Lars. C'mon Lars. I'm not worth the stress mate" I try and reassure him, but that just agitates him more.

"See! That's just it! I've been horrible to you, I admit it. But you've kept trying with me! When I hurt my hand you were the one who bandaged it and put it in a sling"

(i had found him almost blacked out from the pain on the lab floor, even the memory of it sent a shiver down my spine)

"you were the only one that looked for me after we all nearly died fighting Garraka"

("Pinfield? Pinfield!? Oh my god, there you are! Thank fuck you're alright!" Okay maybe this tiny non-crush had been going on longer than i thought... christ)

"I dont like the thought of you hurt..." i muttered, embarrased. this definitely wasnt how i was expecting this conversation to go, fuck my life I was crushing on a nerdy scientist who defintely didn't like me back.

He stopped his pacing and walked over to me until the gap between us was non existant. He slowly, hesitantly, lifted his hand until he cupped my cheek.

"I don't like the thought of you upset because of me" he muttered, his voice low.

My heart completely stopped, my breath caught in my throat, was this happening? how was this happening? i swear this guy was like my mortal enemy not even 5 minutes ago. so many revelations were bieng made today...

I decided to be bold, why not? fuck it, i've got nothing to loose at this point.

I leaned in so our noses just grazed eachother, looking at him, really genuinely looking at him. his soft blue eyes that seemed to peer into my soul. Not pierce through it, like some weird blue eyed fuckers i knew, but looked. gently, tenderly, as if he was looking at everything i ever had been, or would be. like i was something beautiful, something to be treaured.

It made me want to sob at the thought. god, how disgustingly sweet.

"make up for it then" i whispered, the tension so thick i could cut it with a knife.

I'd planned on being the one to make the forst move, but apparently, that was all that Lars needed.

He kissed me. His soft lips pressed against mine, sotfly, tenderly, tentatively.

I could feel the anxiety radiating off of him, so i quickly reciprocated. More eagerly than i owuldve liked- but oh well.

I could feel his hand resting on my waist, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. It all felt so tender, so raw, not at all how i thought it would be.

I felt like a teenager again, and couldnt resist letting out a small giggle, making Lars pull away. He looked confused again, making me laugh once again.

"What?" he aksed, a sort of amused smile on his face.

"Nothing- sorry. Nothing at all. Just thinking of how fuming mums gonna be when i tell her ive got a posho for a boyfriend"

"I am NOT posh!"

"you are a littleee"

"I AM NO- wait- boyfriend?"

"oh shit didnt mean to say that bi-"

he cut me off with another kiss, this one much more confident.

It felt like a million fireworks were going off in my head, oh I could definetly get used to this feeling. This war, sweet, happy feeling. My senses were flooded with everything Lars. His taste, his smell, his touch.

I felt like I was learning to live again.

#AAAA #lars pinfield #james acaster #fanfic #ghostbusters frozen empire #lars pinfield x reader #gn reader #should prolly add more tags but its 2 am im tired #nightnight everyone #lmk what you think

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weebsinstash · 7 months

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Babe! A new Helluva Boss episode just dropped! And Ozzie and Fizz are just so goddamn cute! 😍😭 and Ozzie is such a sweetheart! (I hope he’s genuinely such a softie and not playing an act, we need more softie demons).

Can we please talk about Yandere! Ozzie again? Pretty please with a shit ton of sprinkles on top? 🥺

Bestie thank youuuu I watched that shit immediately and I have so many thoughts

This episode actually shows a big reason why I haven't really published a lot for like, Ozzie or Valentino in terms of actual fics because, my take on Ozzie's personality based purely off his debut appearance would've been a lot more different and now we see that, bro he's, suave yeah, but also, a huge green flag lovable cinnamon roll dork??? Valentino, we only have seen so much of. To be honest the way he's been presented seems to sway from "scary as fuck during gangster business stuff" to "he's kind of a ratchet ho, actually" and I'm not, entirely super confident writing stuff for him because like, I'm more of, assuming? I can't, analyze his character like I can for other characters with more material out for them.

For real though, my current stance on this matter is: Asmodeus, you could go to him and ask for his knowledge and advice on like genuine issues or things you're curious or concerned about like, legit you could sit down and have STD talks with this man ("h-hey Ozzie is it normal to have xyz on my you know what" "oh honey yes that's just like a blood blister from friction you're fine" "oh my god ok good because I was worried it was cancer" "HONEY NO 😩") meanwhile fucking Valentino over here would be like "bitch why you got cellulite" and like make backhanded comments like, oh maybe he could reward you with a boob job instead of your next paycheck (as in like, cosmetic surgery 💀 you know I've thought about that? Yan Valentino who's crazy for ya but, not crazy enough to not make certain, tweaks to your actual body. Maybe he dyes your hair or has it styled a specific way and basically refuses to let you do whatever you want with it. Gets your boobs or ass done. Makes you get fillers/botox for any wrinkles/static lines. Controlling your wardrobe is a must. You're like his little.... pursedog)

(That being said though. I'd still let him hit 😩 reader who gets drunk and fucks around and finds out--)

Anyways though, over here in our corner we believe in unapologetic self indulgence and I still believe a Reader who has magical abilities or powers and whatnot and can travel the rings through whatever convoluted means is a fun time. So. We're gonna do that! I mean. Asmodeus honestly seems chill enough that even if you like, somehow crashed into his club, as long as you were polite and respectful, he'd be chill with letting your hang around, maybe even getting a kick out of teasing you (but never pushing anything too far unless you show interest, and if you show any discomfort or trauma he backs off to re-strategize). I imagine his club would actually be pretty fun? Drinks, live music, although, kind of makes me wonder, how openly horny is this place? Probably not like "coochie in your face" like working for Valentino, so, Reader could even be all "honestly this is such a much more safe welcoming environment to engage in like sexuality" and Ozzie hears this and its like, dude. You might as well have just struck him through the heart with cupids own arrow, but, also, he's curious, what other places have you been?

I'm kind of convinced that if a little imp cunt like Crimson thinks he has the balls to stand up against Ozzie, hostage or not, I kinda feel like. Valentino would probably openly treat Asmodeus like shit. He'd probably be a catty fucking bitch to him. He probably looks at Ozzie as like, a diet coke version of himself, a version who has so much power but doesn't go far enough, and probably scoffs at Asmodeus' romantic attachment (even though Val has some weird on-off thing with Vox himself). Valentino doesn't give two fucks about consent and would probably openly mock Ozzie'e values

Or. They could be big business partners because, maybe there's some sort of inter-Ring porn trafficking pipeline or something, smuggling the good shit up from Lust and trading it with stuff from Sinners, who have more visual variety besides other perks etc

But just picture, Asmodeus and Fizz are, minding their own biz, at the club, chilling, listening to music, eating food vaguely shaped like clocks, and Ozzie's cell rings, and they're both like "aw I bet Reader's calling to say they're having fun at that party or whatever" but they answer it and you're like, hiding in the bathroom or a closet or something, crying, whispering under your breath "d-do you still have a place for me to stay like you said before 🥺 Valentino is really, REALLY drunk tonight and he's really scaring me, he grabbed me and--"

They're both at your exact location in like less than 5 minutes and maybe have to play it off, Ozzie distracting Val while Fizz steals you away, or, juicier, like. Imagine Val snatching your phone from your hand, going through your messages, "who the fuck have you been talking to?" And he pulls like the classic abusive boyfriend move and when he sees you're in frequent contact with someone named "Ozzie" he calls him from your phone and as soon as a male voice picks up, they're both going at it "bitch who the fuck are you?" "Bitch who the fuck are YOU?" "Why you got my baby's number?" "Why do YOU have MY baby's PHONE???" "I'm about to HAVE my foot up your ass, you--" like, you know what I mean? Asmodeus is rolling up and these two are all but butting heads with each other as you have to awkwardly explain how you know both of them and of course, suddenly there's a not quite comfortable conversation about which one of them you... "belong to", neither of them wanting to leave you with the other (although I imagine in a physical fight Asmodeus would win but Valentino would have homefield advantage involving his security dudes)

Either way like.... oh my god watching them lounge in that nice big bed together. Fizz being on Ozzie's chest, like. Give me that 😩😩😩 "oh Reader, baby, so glad you took up our offer for a place to crash, but, since it was so short notice it'll have to be with us tonight" type shit and like you're fine with that but then bedtime comes and. There's Literally Only One Bed. And you're like ok you know what I'm not really in a position to be ungrateful, Valentino could have actually fucking hurt me or trafficked me or whatever, but, you're still small enough that Asmodeus could hypotheticallyyyy just, reach an arm over and scoop up you into his chest for a cuddle, or just have you in the crook of his arm like a cat or a teddy bear. Ozzie definitely sees an immediate perk on Fizz not being so much of a troll as to give you the airhorn treatment your first morning there, so, obviously, they have, multiple motivations to, keep urging you to stay 👀 after all, Val is going to be looking for you in the Pride Ring, and you don't have any other friends, so, you're kind of stuck with their whims aren't you? Unless you try to run off on your own, and I mean. Really. They can just hire someone to bring you back lmao. Or get you themselves. Could you imagine feeling way you uncomfortable around them and slipping away and suddenly you find a little white demon dog on wheels happily rolling up to you out of nowhere and it's. Fucking tracking you for Fizzarolli and Asmodeus, like. Damn, can't even trust the dogs in Hell. Demon dogs in Ohio be like

Anyways idk I just like the idea of like. Combining several ideas, you do the whole "accidentally did the whole Death Fall From The Sky and crash into Vals sunroof, he keeps you in servitude because you have to repay him, eventually you Fall into Lust and you start basically doing double jobs at both clubs and prefer Ozzie and he eventually has to rescue you". Also like Valentino "canonically" humiliates his partners on social media so I can imagine he's just publicly belittling and negging you all the time. One second you're happy at Ozzie's listening to music and eating unholy amounts of onion rings with your quirky well intentioned clown friend, the next week Asmodeus sees a Sinstagram post where Valentino is just like "cutie was whining she couldn't get any tips so I helped her out 😜🤭🍈🍈" and its just. A photo of you in your work uniform where he clearly just reached forward and tore open the front of your blouse and he is just. Full on deadass without any hint of irony making you basically work in your bra and he's just without any remorse posting photos of your running mascara and you're clearly crying but what can you do?

Val posting a photo of him literally shoving a tip INTO your bra, his FINGERS in there, and other like little clips and snippets of him demeaning you while you're like actually fucking blubbering "and make sure to get me extra ice!" "*sobbing noises*" "I didn't hear a REPLY! Do I need to take some of those nice tips I'm helping you make?" "N n noOo I'm sorry" "sorry WHAT?" "M sorry mister Valentino, I'm sorry, I'll get your drink right away mister Valentino" and Val is just slapping your ass HARD as you turn to leave like and just laughing like this is the most fun he's ever had

like I feel like Asmodeus realistically would only be able to do so much IN Pride itself (because would You show up in your boss' turf doing your own shit? Big risk) BUT, I mean. You go down to Lust and you're basically fair game. You show up to your next shift after The Boob Incident and Ozzie's like "giiiiiiiirl imma keep it real with you, I know you wanna try and be independent but I got some concerns--" and he's barely even halfway through it before you're just, TEAR EXPLOSION, "i hate working for him, I HATE IT, I wanna work HERE full time, but I don't have a place to staAaaAaay" and just. Some UGLY crying because you're at wits end

Zero hesitation here's Asmodeus "Sweetie what kind of apartment do you want??? You want a penthouse? I can get you a penthouse?? You want some shopping money?? Tell Big O whatever you need." and the next thing you know Valentino is scrolling through Sinastagram and has to do a double take as your account starts posting all kinds of photos of you looking cute and having fun and, poolside in a bathing suit and you're becoming more comfortable with your body and your sexuality and, he's thirsty absolutely, goes to try and tease you or make fun of you and you're just like "you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid" and just ignore him as Val is forced to watch you pal around with Asmodeus (either as just friends or total fuck buddies like, deadass catch me out here "hey so, there's this position I've always wanted to try--")

#yandere x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere stuff #sinprompts #yandere helluva boss #idk do i even. tag this series. idk.#you can tell this shits been in my drafts

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absolutebl · 6 months

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This Week in BL - It's weird where I am right now, Okay?

Organized, in each category, by ones I'm enjoying most at the top. However, I've put quite a few on hold for travel reasons.

Oct 2023 Wk 4

Only a few screen shots for you this week, my hotel wifi is actually THAT bad.

Ongoing Series - Thai

My Dear Gangster Oppa (Thurs iQIYI) 1 of 8 - Classic unlucky in love failed crush on straight bestie = both v queer and v emo yaoi. I gotta say I like these actors way better in this than their previous series, and maybe that’s because Tew is more like Tul and I just like Meen better when he’s… erm… mean. All of which is to say, this is off to a wonderful start and I am about to lose my very sleep deprived little mind... ready for a ABL ecstasy rant?

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH I CAN'T EVEN.

"I play support because that way everyone is happy to see me show up," might be the single best moment of characterization BL has EVER seen.

Look here, in the grand cornucopia of BL universes this is my metaverse. It's pulp... but relatively high production. It has an established pair that I know I like... but who were given crap before. It's a tidy little script, it's not gonna run too long, and it's ALL the archetypes and tropes I love but rarely see. It's Japan's style otaku plus Korea's style gangster, Thailand's style friendship group, and it arrived out of NOWHERE. It's Korea's IP & money, Thailand's talent, and China's streaming service.

Do we know what the hell is going on?

No we do not.

Do we care when it's this much fun?

No we do not.

(In this I speak for everyone... no, EVERYONE.)

This show I why I got into BL.

Don't bother me with trifles. Me and My Dear Gangster Oppa are sailing off into the infinite pixilated sunset together, thank you very much.

Dangerous Romance (Fri YT) ep 11 of 12 - I managed to watch most of it on low rez before YT "discovered" I was in Asia and therefore could not be allowed to watch Asian shows. (AKA my VPN failed me.) But it seemed like a good ep.

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) Lucky Love ep 10 of 24 - I enjoyed this 2 part installment, it’s a bit of a sad sack recovery SAGA, but the acting is genuine, the couple believable, and the story felt particularly queer to me. 7/10 but close to an 8. It was really quite charming.

However: Next week looks not good on many levels - it's horror and I spotted guitar. Which is even more horrific.

Absolute Zero (Thai Weds iQIYI) ep 5 of 12 - do temporal paradoxes exist in Thailand? That is the question. I gotta say Tor (Ongsa) is carrying this show and is doing a really great job, it's just the story itself doesn't resonate with me. Ugh it's so sad.

Is it, indeed, better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?

We only on ep 5 and had a full story arc already, there is A LOT more to go.

Venus in the Sky (Tues iQIYI) 9 of 10 eps - the fact that in losing Sky Venus also lost his surrogate family explains his resulting bitterness a little bit more. I wish we had gotten this back story much earlier. Still stupid pulp made me cry, which of course means it's back in my good books. This story is slow as fuck, but I'm going on a rollercoaster with it.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Kiseki: Dear to Me (Taiwan Tues Viki & iQIYI) ep 11 of 13(?) - I love them, okay? All of them. This is a great sappy classic Taiwanese BL and it is my baby and you can’t take it away from me. MINE.

You Are Mine (Taiwan Fri Viki) eps 8 of 10 - oh noes it got sad, I thought they would at least would have had drunken sex before the drama. Sigh. Still the kissing was good, as it should be from Taiwan.

If It’s With You AKA Even If I Fall In Love With You AKA Kimi to nara Koi wo Shite Mite mo’ (Japan Gaga) ep 4 of 5 - Amane is so brave. About being gay. Being out. Confessing. Its admirable if scary. Otherwise this ep was pretty slow.

Bump Up Business (Korea Gaga) 3-4 of 8 - how do I feel about this show? Conflicted. Are OnlyOneOf doing a great job? Yes, actually. Am I enjoying it? No, not really. Is this anyone's fault? I don't think so.

The little linguistic negotiation was cute tho. And we seem to have gotten idols kissing in a BL both in the same group, so that glass ceiling dildo has finally been broken.

NineMill are unexpectedly good, also KB plays a great evil ex. Of the 3, I think only Nine is good enough to go into acting permanently (but he's not tall enough). Still, all hail OnlyOneOf... kings of the "gay concept." You boys make me v nervous but as couple-branding goes, you just out branded Thailand. Mad props baibies. Legit never thought I'd see the day.

Trust Korea to be in it to win it.

Mr Cinderella 2 (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 6 of ? - i pretty much just forgot to watch this.

It's Airing But...

I Feel You Linger in the Air (Fri grey) ep 8 of 12 - I will try to watch and do a series review in November but... not sure I will be able to. Fingers crossed.

Love in Translation (Sat iQIYI) ep 8fin - completed but I couldn't catch the last ep, my final thoughts in Nov.

Only Friends (Sat YT) ep 12 fin - completed, but see afore mentioned YT issues. I'll review it in Nov. I anticipate better internet soon.

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - I find this series more fun to binge, so I'm waiting until it completes its run.

I Cannot Reach You AKA I Can't Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai (Japan Tues Netflix-Japan & ????) - in classic JBL fashion, I Cannot Reach You could not be reached.

Can I Buy Your Love From A Vending Machine? AKA Sono Koi, Jihanki de Kaemasu ka? (Japan cinema release in-country only) - This one is a movie from Japan so in customary fashion who tf knows when (or if) it will get international distribution. Salaryman Ayumu Koiwai just can't tear his eyes away from the strong, muscular man as he checks on the stocks of the vending machine in his office.

One Room Angel (Japan Gaga) - adaptation of Harada’s manga of the same name (which I did not like) about a convenience store clerk who's stabbed, nearly dies, and returns home to find an angel waiting for him. With only 5 eps and a good chance this won’t end happy, I'm gonna wait and let you tell me how it goes.

Next Week Looks Like This

Upcoming October BL

10/31 SHADOW (Thai Gaga) 1 of 14 - this is a horror BL featuring ghosts and other paranormal elements in a high school setting. I'm not wild about Thai horror (or horror at all). It features Singto (who did paranormal BL He's Coming to Me) opposite Fluke N (who's done a couple horror's before). Also Fiat. Dan suffers from sleep paralysis, and in his dreams he sees a shadow that suffocates him. It gets worse when he transfers schools.

Upcoming November BL

11/3 Twins the series (Thailand ????) 1 of 10

11/17 Pit Babe (Thai) - Pavel my love!

11/19 Bake Me Please (OhmFluke but not, Thailand)

11/22 7 Days Before Valentine (Thailand) - horroresk

11/25 The Sign (Thailand) - horroresk

11/30 For Him the series (Thailand) - high heat

VIP Only (Taiwan) - may be delayed/canceled

Cooking Crush (OffGun, Thailand) - may be delayed, there some kinda gossip/rumor/shade happening at GMMTV

Wuju Bakery AKA Space Bakery (Korea) - this one may be DOA

2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED).

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

My Universe - I just enjoyed the angle of this kiss shot.

Uh huh. Sure, honey. (Bump Up Buisness)

COULD THIS EXPLAIN THE SNUFFLE KISS?!!!!

(Last week)

#this week in bl #My Dear Gangster Oppa #may be the greatest thing ever to happen to me #My Universe: Lucky Love #My Universe the series #TulHin #Meen Nichakoon #thai bl #Venus in the Sky #Bump Up Buisness #Korean BL #OnlyOneOf #japanese bl #taiwanese bl #upcoming bl 2023 #november bl #Kiseki: Dear to Me

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maraudersmyloves · 10 months

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You good there, darling?

ship: James potter x reader

warnings: use of Y/N

request: no

You need to hurry up or you’ll be late to your job. Which would mean that you won’t get through the crowd. You work with the NHL to take pictures at the end of every match, it is a fairly easy job with good pay but the possibility of falling in front of twenty thousand people looming over your head almost makes you regret choosing the job. Almost.

You push through people to get to the security waiting for you. You spot Adam and Jim on duty and can already feel their anger. They’re nice people and only doing their job but you found that they really don’t appreciate lateness.

You get your camera ready while walking so as to not have to endure their glares for longer than necessary.

“Y/N! You’re late!” Jim calls in your direction.

“yeah, yeah, i know.” you say while quickly patting him on the chest and smiling sweetly at him causing Jim to roll his eyes.

You push yourself onto the ice, glad for the fact that it’s already been skated on enough to give you a bit of grip. Just as you reach the middle and lift the camera to your eye, the first hockey player of the gryffindor team skates on.

It all goes pretty fast, you do your thing while the players you’ve known for years plus two new ones you don't know yet skate on. You spot the first and quickly snap a few pictures, he has long black waves and is just genuinely pretty with his blue eyes and strong nose.

One of the star players waves to you and you crouch down to get a better angle. Your eyes widen as you feel your foot slip as you make the movement. You feel the panic deep in your chest, you’ve never fallen and you don’t want to start now, at one of their biggest games yet. You can practically feel the eyes drilling down into you as you fall down.

A strong arm hooks under yours and catches you mid fall. Your heart is still beating when you turn to the figure who saved you from embarrassment or maybe caused you more, seeing as you had to ‘be saved’ from falling on your literal job, you haven’t decided yet.

Staring back at you is the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen. He has Brown eyes with some golden freckles around the iris and his hair is ruffled in that ‘i just got fucked’ way, while still having some defined curls.

Perfectly warm eyes, behind perfectly rimmed glasses. Accompanied by a perfectly tousled, fluffy, messy in all the right ways, head of dark hair.

The guy seems to blink out of some sort of trance and quickly helps you stand up, causing him to put one hand around his waist while easily lifting you up to a secure stance again. He combs his hand through his hair while making sure you’re alright, “you good there, darling” he asks in a slight british accent that makes your head all fuzzy.

You shake your head as if to clear your thoughts but in reality more to stop ogling what you realise now must be the second new guy. “Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for catching me. That could’ve been really embarrassing, I've never fallen before. Especially because the middle has the most grip and that’s usually where I am. I- Sorry I am rambling.” You look up to see the guy smiling softly at you before he realises he’s still holding you by the waist and quickly steps back making you crave the warmth that surrounds him even through the thick hockey uniform.

“It’s fine, I don't mind. What’s your name?” he asks leaning slightly closer causing your breath to catch in your throat.

You mumble out your name but his face and him leaning slightly down and closer makes it pretty clear he didn’t hear you over all the other noise. You’re about to answer as the guy gets hit on the head. “Oi, Potter! Come back and do your job.” The black haired guy says.

“I gotta go, darling. I’m sorry” he skates off leaving to do your job on autopilot while your brain keeps replaying the conversation.

this is unedited. Part two?

#marauders #james potter #fluff #headcanon #james potter is so boyfriend #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #marauders era #james potter fluff #x reader #angst

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klbwriting · 4 months

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Surface Tension

Chapter 2: Landslide

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: none just building some fluff

Summary: The first few months are awkward, but they figure things out

Note: Chapter 2! So excited for this, and I love Orm being both confused but still trying to pretend he knows what's going on! Comments/critiques appreciated! Also, song is 'Landslides by Fleetwood Mac

The first month Y/N and Orm only exchanged pleasantries when they saw each other leaving or entering their homes. A quick hello, or how are you, followed by a hasty exit that left Orm confused, what if he had caused her to dislike him, and Y/N worried, what if he became suspicious of her? Despite their meetings being quick and dismissive both found themselves fascinated by the other. Y/N would often stand in her bathroom upstairs, in the bathtub no less, discreetly watching Orm as he walked the beach, sometimes swimming despite the chill of the autumn weather. She envied him honestly, he must have been on the surface because he wanted to be for some reason. If he were hiding out here he would be too afraid to go into the water like she was. Either that or he was still just as self-centered as he was as king and didn't fear being caught. She hadn't stepped foot in the water for the last decade, afraid that somehow her mother would find her and drag her back for punishment for a crime she had tried to prevent.

Y/N thought she was being discreet but Orm could feel her watch him. What he couldn't figure out was why she wouldn't talk to him. She hurried through any interaction they had, putting as much distance between them as possible. He didn't think he had said or done anything offensive, mostly just tried to smile and be polite. It had worked with other surface dwellers, why not her? Could she sense he didn't belong here somehow? He pondered this while he swam in the shallows of the ocean, receiving strange looks from those walking by. He knew the weather was too cold for humans to be swimming but he needed to be in the water, feel a part of the sea at least for a little while during the day. And today was the day he was finally going to confront Y/N, at least so he could apologize for whatever he had done to make her dislike him.

Orm was just coming in from the beach through the back sliding door of the house when he heard Y/N returning home through the wall splitting the house. He waited for several minutes, getting dried off, before he approached her door, knocking. She peeked out of the peephole and nearly passed out. Why was he here? Had he seen her watching him and wanted to tell her off for being creepy? She took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Hi," she said, trying to hide how nervous she was. Orm swallowed, almost forgetting the words he wanted to say. She looked like she had had a long day, hair in a messy ponytail and clothes wrinkled from whatever job she did. She looked like she had just gotten out of bed and the thought of her in bed almost made him blush.

"Hello, I just, I notice that you seem to run off at the sight of me and I am wondering have I...done something to offend you?" he asked finally, stringing a usable sentence together, much to his surprise. Whatever she had been expecting him to say, this was not it.

"O, um, no, I'm...I'm sorry," she stammered out, trying to think fast about why she was avoiding him. "Its just, strange man moving in next door to me, not the first time I've been polite to a neighbor and he has thought that I was flirting, I didn't want to, I just wanted to make sure you weren't a creep first before being nicer." Was that an explanation? Did those words even work? Orm drew his eyebrows together, thinking over her statement.

"I hope I didn't come off as a creep, I am not one I don't think?" he said, voice unsure. Y/N couldn't fight the smile that appeared, he seemed so sweet and genuine. He wanted her to think he was a good man, not someone to be afraid of. She took a deep breath and decided to give him a chance.

"No, you haven't, you've been perfectly respectful," she said. "I'm sorry for making assumptions but you can never be too careful can you?" Orm agreed and looked at the weather. It was overcast, but not rainy.

"Would you like to take a walk on the beach?" he asked. This was actually surprising. Y/N looked towards the back of the house, thinking about the rocks and the water and then Atlantis. Then she pictured a force arriving on the beach to carry her back to the kingdom for execution. She shook her head.

"No, but how about a walk to the park?" she asked. Orm nodded. "Give me 2 minutes to change my shirt, I just got off work and feel like I smell." She laughed at herself and Orm smiled, nodding.

While he waited he thought about the look she had on her face when she had looked towards the ocean. It wasn't boredom, or even nervousness, it was fear in her eyes. Was she scared of the water? If so, why live in this house where the waves sung him to sleep every night? What was she afraid of? He filed the question away to think about later as the door opened again and she came out in a sweater and her ponytail smoothed out.

"Shall we?" she asked, offering him her elbow. He looked at her for a second before she laughed. "Sorry, its the gentleman's job to offer his arm isn't it?" Orm cocked his head to the side before mirroring her move, sticking his elbow out. Now he wished that he had watched those movies that Arthur had talked about, maybe he would know what was supposed to happen with his arm like this. Then Y/N slid her arm through his and linked them together. Now he understood. And he liked it. They started off towards the small green park that was nearby.

"Its nice today," Y/N said, breaking the silence as they started to circle the fountain at the park entrance. "Cloudy, but the temperature isn't too cold yet. I'll bet we'll have snow soon though." Orm looked up at the sky.

"I've never seen snow before," he said. He knew about the weather pattern, water froze in the air and then fell lightly to the ground in white flakes, but he had never bothered to go see snow. He wondered if he would like it.

"A southern man, I see," Y/N said, stopping by the edge of the community garden. She walked over to the small patch she took care of, grabbing a small bit of weed that had popped up in the last day and tossed it aside. "That's my part of the garden, I grow some vegetables."

"I've never gardened before either," Orm said. As they walked he was realizing he hadn't done a lot despite being on land for almost a full year now and wondered if he should start actually trying to live instead of just hide here. He shook the thought from his head and looked back at his walking partner. "So, you just got off work, where do you work?"

"I own a cafe in town, little place that's open for breakfast and lunch," she explained. "You should come by sometime, could always use more customers." She nudged him with her elbow, making her own heart skip a beat and deciding maybe it wasn't a good idea to walk with him, be this close to him. But he was like a magnet for her and she had spent so much time trying to fight speaking to him, it had been exhausting. They could be friends.

After the walk, for two months they had small talk. Nothing too deep, just general things they liked and disliked, some bland stories from their past that could easily be pulled from almost any surface dwellers memories. They walked in the park a few days a week and despite either of their best interests they were starting to really enjoy each other's company. Y/N loved to hear Orm's laugh and see his smile. Orm liked how the sun made Y/N's eyes a deeper color, but how the rainy days brought out her silly side, splashing in puddles or swinging at the vacant, soaked, playground. These walks were Orm's favorite times of the week, but after tonight he would have another favorite to add.

It was late, after midnight, and Orm was barely dozing, a nightmare waking him over and over. One would think the nightmares he had would be about his imprisonment, or the attempted assassination from his coronation day, but no, the nightmare's were about his father on his 18th birthday. His party had just ended, and it wasn't much of a party, more a show where his father could pretend to be so happy and proud of his soon-to-be king son. They had known his father was sick by then, would be dying within the next few months, so he had thrown Orm a grand bash to remember him by. Orm couldn't recall a single thing about the evening until he was saying goodnight to his father at the door to his room.

"You ate still an embarrassment," Orvax had said, looking Orm over. He was wearing his finest armor but still felt like a child playing knight and his father knew it. "Your reign will be the worst of any of the Atlantian kings and I hate that my child is going to be the greatest disappointment in the history of the sea." Then his father went into his room and died that very night.

Orm had spent the next decade trying to prove his father wrong. He knew he had, he knew now that Arthur being king was the greatest thing that could happen to Atlantis, but there was still a part of him that felt the pang of guilt and shame of being exactly the disappointment his father knew he was going to be. He woke up with the shame swimming in his body, but this time he heard something outside. He stood, throwing on a shirt as he ventured downstairs. The sound wasn't threatening, it was, music. Y/N was outside on the back porch playing...guitar...that was the word, and singing. He thought he recognized the voice but couldn't place where from. He opened the sliding door to the back quietly, wanting to listen. She was seated on a wicker rocking chair facing the ocean, strumming as she sang to the sea.

Orm must have made a noise because the song stopped and she turned, looking at him. He blushed, feeling caught peeking into something he wasn't supposed to see. After a moment though, she smiled and waved him out. He closed the door and moved to sit on the other wicker chair out on her porch.

Oh, mirror in the sky

What is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above?

Can I sail through the changing oceans tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

"I hope I wasn't keeping you awake," she said, still strumming softly. Orm watched her fingers, shaking his head. "I can't sleep either. What's got you awake, if you don't mind me asking."

"My past," he said softly. She nodded, seeming to understand. "You?"

"My past," she mimicked his voice before laughing. Orm chuckled. It must have been the sound of the waves or the sight of the stars because Y/N decided then to trust Orm with a little more of herself. "I was blamed for something that I didn't do, but because of me it was still able to happen. Someone almost died, so I ran. I couldn't live at home anymore, seeing what my foolishness caused so, here I am." Orm looked at her and sighed. "What? Same thing for you?"

"Worse," he said. Her eyebrows shot up. "I also did something foolish, and well, I was high on who I was, the power my name afforded me, and I did hurt people, almost killed my own brother. He forgave me, taught me a hard lesson in the process, and now I just want to figure out who I am without that world, without that power." Y/N reached out her hand and set it gently on his.

"I'm glad we found each other then, maybe we can be friends and help each other be better then we were," she said. Orm smiled, squeezing her hand and sitting back to enjoy the ocean as Y/N pulled back to start playing again, singing him to sleep.

#orm marius #king orm #ormmarius #orm marius x reader #king orm x reader #kingorm #ormmariusxreader #ormmariusoneshot #kingormxreader #ormseries3

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ingravinoveritas · 1 month

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I've seen some discourse going on today with one of my other posts, so, very quickly:

The gif above is of David on the Chris Evans Breakfast Show yesterday, where Michael's name was brought up (of course) in reference to Staged. The screenshot beneath that is of a tweet from Anna the day after Michael appeared on Radcliffe and Maconie on BBC 6.

I've already talked about my thoughts on AL's tweet on this post, so I will try not to repeat what's been previously said. But to be clear, what is being compared between these things is not David's "Martin Sheen" comment vs. the one from the radio hosts. The comparison is between how David's and AL's comments on the same topic come across, especially from an optics perspective.

In both cases, the presenters are getting Michael's name wrong (Chris Evans deliberately; Radcliffe and Maconie seemingly by accident). David follows along with the joke that CE is making and adds to it, without it being at Michael's expense. You can see the sweet smile on his face and even hear how soft his voice gets and tell exactly where this comment is coming from/what he means by it.

With Anna's, we are looking at text instead of video, so right off the bat, I fully concede that this puts her at a disadvantage. In the case of Radcliffe/Maconie, the presenter clearly accidentally misspoke, so AL's tweet seems somewhat disproportionate in response. Michael also spent a good portion of his time on that radio show gushing to the hosts about what a huge fan of theirs he is, and how he plans to keep listening to their show. So it doesn't seem to make sense that he would be okay with Anna attacking people he admires on social media literally the day after he was on the show.

Michael is/will also soon again be employed by the BBC. Looking at it from that optics perspective, it comes across as very unprofessional for Anna to be passive-aggressively mouthing off at Michael's employer, because there are actual potential consequences that can come with that (although we would hope this wouldn't be the case). Am I saying that AL could actually harm Michael's reputation or job prospects? I'm genuinely not sure, but either way, why would she be okay with saying things online that would even have any chance of negatively affecting her own partner?

I would further add that it is not misogynistic to suggest someone should be accountable for the things they write online, or the potential consequences that come with it--whether that means costing Michael jobs, or straining his relationships with industry contacts, or just making him look bad. The only thing that is misogynistic is to say that being a woman means Anna can't be responsible for what she posts online. Because if she is going to be in this business and going for an acting career, then she has to be held to the same standards of professionalism as everyone else.

There are so many other things I could say, but I'm just going to urge folks to read the post I linked to above if you'd like to know more of my thoughts. Hopefully this clears things up...

#michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #also for the 500th time: Michael is not married and has never been married #so when you say 'his wife' i can't take anything else you are saying seriously #it just confuses me that people can be so intense about defending Michael's relationship #but not even know what that relationship is #holding someone accountable =/= misogyny #again if this was a one time thing i wouldn't even say anything #but what's the old saying: when someone shows you who they are believe them the first time #but i will leave it to my followers to make up their own minds #anna lundberg #relationships #discourse

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gyuluttony · 4 months

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So, that Ateez feederism bug has certainly taken root and I couldn't tell you why exactly. (It's because I finally am getting a feel for how many people like it as much as I do 👀)

And with that being said, I want to write about another one of my ults, being San... it's not going to have a fixed pair... but that doesn't mean he can't play around hehe

Better

This is a feederism fic and features weight gain, weight gain denial, breaking of clothes, and smut. Don't like, don't read.

Finishing his set in the gym, the sound of the weights clanging on the machine as it settles. He's panting as he looks at himself in the mirror. He's come a long way since he started working out. He remembers the first time that he set foot in the gym and how just about everything intimidated him. Flexing his figure, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as a result of just how far he's come. It wasn't something that he achieved overnight after all. Lots of effort had to be made to get his body to the level that it was currently at.

While he washed up, some things came to mind. Like there were people who might have struggled with the idea of going to the gym for the first time and plenty of questions that they had. As he lathered up his firm pecs and broad shoulders, it was properly occurring to him that he had a rather amazing set up. The gym was owned by his friend, Yeosang, which meant it would be fairly easy to set up a camera and record beginner guides to helping out those who needed the advice. While he rinsed off, his mind was already buzzing with ideas as to what he'd need to mention with Yeosang if he wanted to get the go-ahead on this idea.

In his mind, as long as he delivered his advice to a level that was befitting of the audience, it shouldn't be too hard to get the information out to everyone who needed it. He arrived at his apartment as he announced, "I have the best idea ever."

Wooyoung had flopped his head over on the couch to look at him, an eyebrow raised curiously while Seonghwa paused the game that he was playing to look at him. "Oh, how was the gym, Sannie?"

He simply gave a thumbs up before he sat on the coffee table in front of them to look at them eye to eye, almost like he needed to be at that level to brace them before his idea properly blew them away. "You're not ready for this."

Seonghwa kept his encouraging smile on his face while Wooyoung looked at him, a little exasperated, "What is it? You've hyped it up but haven't said it yet."

San paused for dramatic effect for a moment before he stated, "I'm gonna start a channel to promote fitness for first timers because they don't know what they're doing and Yeosang already gave me the go ahead."

There was a pause in the air before Wooyoung just sighed as Seonghwa politely began to play his game again, ready to listen as background noise, almost like his interest had pulled away.

"What?" San looked genuinely puzzled as to why the attention had waned.

"No offense, San, but I think I've seen about a thousand channels like that where they all advertise their advice. It's just oversaturated and almost everyone does it." Wooyoung rips the bandaid off rather easily and it's hard not to deflate a little.

He pouted rather easily, "It's a great idea! I didn't get like this without knowing my way around the gym so I think I'm pretty trustworthy!" The way that he flexes while having a cute expression flusters both of his roommates as Wooyoung openly gawks the muscles on display while Seonghwa pays closer attention to the game that's on the screen before pausing it when San seems to wait for them to comment again.

"Wooyoung does have a point, Sannie." It's hard not to coo at the sight of San being more pouty than expected as his plans are stepped on but Seonghwa continues, "But, I think you'd be able to carve a niche as you are. You do a pretty good job of that." He can't help but smile as he blushes at the kind words of the older one at that.

A pat on the shoulder comes from Wooyoung, "If you need someone to film, I'll be happy to help. I feel like you'd be bad at setting up shots." He raises a fist, threatening to hit his friend before muttering that he'd appreciate the help.

After a little bit more planning, the first video goes without a hitch and he can't help but feel a pit in his stomach as he watches the video process before it slowly uploads on their shared Internet. Both Wooyoung and Seonghwa are in the room as moral support when it finally finishes and he can't help but stew.

A couple of minutes go by and San whines, "I really put a lot of time into this introduction! Even Hongjoong helped me with editing everything in a nice way!" The video looked rather professional and not amateur at all thanks to the older man's touch that San promised to repay him for at dinner one day.

Wooyoung patted him on the shoulder comfortingly, "You can't expect everything on day one, San. It'll take some time." He left him in the room with Seonghwa who seemed to smile encouragingly, "Yeah, it already has about fifteen views now so that's more than just our friend group. Give it some time to settle!"

Even if he was going to heed their advice, it didn't mean he wasn't going to bed sulking... but when he woke up that morning, the fact that his phone was warm and currently buzzing with notifications was a cause for alarm. Looking at it in shock, all of his friends were sending him various links of different edits of him in the video that went viral.

He knew that he looked good but seeing people editing him to shreds while basically making thirst traps of what he had said was incredibly kind to his ego. He felt himself blush while reading the various comments that were left. Was there such a thing as digital footprint with what some of these people were saying? Either way, it didn't take long for his channel to blow up and thanks to his work with Hongjoong, he didn't need to completely rely on him for editing and knew how to do it for himself.

Everything was panning out. He received sponsorship and just about everything under the sun that came with being a successful content creator and it wasn't hard at all for him to stick out in the crowd. A few lingering shots on his body here and there and it would inspire someone to make another edit that would go viral. Even if a lot of people weren't there for advice, it was the views and fans that made him go viral which he vastly appreciated.

Before long, brands were starting to sponsor him. Athleisure clothing brands, various different services and he took a good majority of them. San hadn't had this much money forever even working full time. But, then, he received his largest sponsorship deal yet. It was a formal process. Signing with Fever Supplements, he would have an exclusive deal that would pay more than enough for him to cover his rent on his apartment alone for each month.

All he had to do was take their products and be causal about mentioning it. And considering he was already in the stage to start taking protein again to bulk for the winter, it wouldn't be hard. Plus, their pre workout had tasted amazing from his experience.

At the stage that he was at, he was starting to workout with guests because he knew that the edits seemed to get a lot more traction when one of his friends was in the gym with him. So far, Jongho, Mingi and Yunho had accompanied him before. Today, Mingi had come with him.

Watching San shake his drink shaker made him raise an eyebrow curiously, "What's that? It looks different than what you usually drink." The camera wasn't recording while they were still in the middle of warming up. San liked to record during stretches so that they could have more to capture. Mingi raised an eyebrow as San offered it.

Watching him take a sip and recoil, Mingi looked at the drink in surprise, "Woah... that's really sweet. Are you sure it's pre?" San shrugged, "It says it's pre workout on the container and I think it's their new flavour. It's pretty good though. It's been energizing me for a couple of weeks now before my workouts." Mingi looked at it rather suspiciously before he added, "Damn, I can see why. It wakes you up."

They usually assist each other in stretching and when it comes time to work with each other, San feels his waist intruded on by Mingi, large hands resting on his sides and for some reason, sinking in slightly as San yelps. "Isn't it early for bulking season?" Mingi snickers as San raises a fist, "Like you're one to talk." He pokes Mingi's softened middle who covers his stomach shyly before they continue.

It makes a sort of tension that persists through the video as San noticed how his friend had put on. It's not like he put that much on though. The fabric of his shirt was clinging to him but that's how most compression shirts fit. On Mingi, it was bulging a little at the stomach and he couldn't help but find himself staring.

While they were in the shower, Mingi's voice was clear through the constant stream of water, "Uh, San. Would you be able to hook me up with some of that pre? It really worked and I just had a sip." Blinking a couple of times in surprise, he looked at Mingi, "Really? All you had was a sip." Mingi shrugged nonchalantly before he added, "That's the best I've worked out in a while... but I still have some energy. How about you?"

The words hung in the air for a moment, the tension only growing more intense before San added, "Yeah. I could do some more." He wandered over to the other man before he saw the way that he moved his neck downward and pressed their lips together. Naked bodies were pressed into each other as the water continued to clean them of everything but their desires.

The perks of the semi-private gym were making their way to the surface now as they stroked each other. Doing anything else was a little riskier even if they knew they had the space to themselves because the staff needed to clean soon for the actual hours of the place. What San was noticing was the fact that Mingi's stomach which had been flat the last time he appeared in a video seemed to protrude and inflate when he breathed out in pleasure at San's touch that was threatening to make him come undone. Had he put on weight since then? Maybe his next video needed to be something about weight loss. But, his thoughts were wiped clean as Mingi moved down and began to suck him off. Clutching the railing, his fingers curled in his friend's hair while he made sure to show attention to just about every inch of his length. As much as Mingi ran his mouth, he always knew how to use it just as well which is why they hooked up as often as they did.

As they both helped each other wipe off the mess after experiencing a release, San's stomach growled. "Damn, you're that hungry?" Mingi slaps his friend on the ass, who yelps before he says, "If you want, we can grab some food with Yunho. He wanted to eat with me today anyways."

Another thing that he didn't realize following his sponsorship with Fever was the fact that he was hungry a lot more often. He didn't really notice it because most of the time, he did his own meal prep. But, San seemed blissfully unaware of how the portions of these preps had slowly been increasing everytime. Where it used to be properly be one portion, it was getting to the point where he would eat portions of three for just about every meal.

Whenever he ate out with friends, it was more absurd that he ever would have noticed. Yunho had noticed that Mingi was eating a fair bit as well but San's order nearly filled up the table. He looked curiously as the two stuffed their faces with everything that was bought. "Good workout?"

The pair nodded before going back to stuffing their faces as Yunho watched, feeling his face heat up as he watched Mingi beside him belch before he continued to eat his own food.

From this point forward, just about all of his friends were noticing the amount that San was eating as he continued to increase the portion sizes slowly but surely. Seonghwa noted that he was cooking just about every other second when he was at home and the planned meals were filling the fridge. Wooyoung had tried some of the protein shake that he mixed but felt full a quarter of the way through while San had started to drink two per day. Mingi was starting to become a regular on the channel and those little meals where they would spend nearly two hours eating were becoming a near daily occurrence that San could afford with no difficulty thanks to his income.

However, the strangest part to just about everyone that knew San was the fact that he didn't even notice what all this food was doing to his body. He was under the impression that with Fever Supplements, he was going to bulk. But, following the winter, what he hadn't done was bulk. He had grown beyond the word bulking.

What Mingi was after the influence that San had on him was chubby and even that was being nice. He was definitely lingering closer to fat these days. But San? San had gotten properly fat and was starting to border on obese.

Gone were the broad and defined shoulders that he had launched the channel with as they were replaced with rolls on his back and flabby moobs that were starting to hang with how much fat that they had blown up with. His stomach protruded out so far and his roommates could hardly believe he poured himself into skin tight clothes without breaking them.

Although, Seonghwa remembers one day where he had checked in on San because he had stated that he was going out to eat with Mingi, not even going to the gym this time. Wandering in his room after hearing some noises, Seonghwa gaped at the sight. San was hopping and just that alone was shaking the floor as the massive amount of fat he put on was jiggling as he tried to get himself into a pair of jeans that didn't even make it halfway up his thighs.

San turned his head, panting as Seonghwa noticed more closely that even his jawline that was sharp had blurred and was even starting to develop a double chin just naturally. He couldn't figure out why it was exciting him to this degree. "Ah... hyung, perfect. Can... you help me close these? I think I bulked up too much."

Seonghwa felt a shiver run down his spine as he moved to San. Placing his fingers on the sides of the pants, he gulped feeling his hands press into the soft cellulite on his thighs. Pulling it up was a lot of effort and even more difficult at the fact that San didn't realize how much he was jiggling at just about every desperate movement. They managed to make it up to where they should rest but were presented with the next problem.

The button.

Now, Seonghwa was seriously going to overload at the feeling of his knuckles pressing into the underbelly of San's fat gut while he tried to make the two ends reach. He had tried lying down and sucking in. "Is it easier now?" He wheezed out the question while Seonghwa was praying for how aroused this was making him. His hands brushed San's crotch a couple of times and he heard a couple of whimpers from his fat roommate before he made his advances less coy, placing a hand on the area. It had gotten fatter too given how he knew San's length was a lot more plentiful the last time they hooked up.

San mewled in pleasure when Seonghwa's hand slipped into his pants, starting to please him before he realized that with just about every pump that caused San to move his hips, his gut would move too and make it more difficult to stroke him between the pressure of the tight underwear and his belly moving into his erection. San was losing himself to the pleasure of the feeling but still so horribly unaware of the point that he's blown up to.

They continue on before San releases, soiling his underwear as they both try to catch their breath. The last thing Seonghwa says before he leaves was that he should just wear something comfortable if he's going to out to eat with Mingi.

He does listen and when Seonghwa leaves the room, he's pulled into Wooyoung's room. On his computer screen, he sees orders for clothes identical to what San has in his wardrobe, just to replace everything with proper size ups. Seonghwa can't help but blush when Wooyoung reveals that this isn't the first time that he's done this before but he has San's card and he's gotten enough funding to the point he can pay it off without glancing at what's being bought.

It became an experiment basically. Just how massive could San get without noticing just how much these supplements were doing. Yunho had looked at the label and saw appetite stimulant and bulking formula on just about every product and weight gain enhancers in nearly everything that San mixed into his drinks. Mingi had grown at a slower pace but because he was with San so often, the damage had been done to the other gym goer as well.

The thirst edits of San hadn't changed. In fact, they had only steamrolled alongside his weight. Now, instead of focusing on his muscles, they focused on how strong his arms still were while they jiggled with fat when in between sets. How his belly spilled out of various workout shirts and how plump his ass was when he turned around while doing something. The fans were just about as ravenous as the one they were making these edits for and he didn't pay it any mind because it was still about his body.

In his eyes, he just viewed it as light pudge... even if he was getting to the point where his fattened form was knocking things over with either his belly or ass whenever he was at home.

He had reached a large milestone after almost a year. Over five million subscribers to the channel. In this time, he put on more than double his weight and didn't even bat an eye to the changes, which is still what shocked the other men the most. Didn't even think about how he couldn't fit in booths at restaurants or how difficult it was to do his stretches with Mingi when they were both of massive proportions. Their shower room hook ups had gotten a lot less subtle with all the bulk and San being teased about how much he had put on.

But, that wasn't the focus. He was finally treating Hongjoong to a meal that he promised. He had started to do a lot of the editing himself, so in the groove that he didn't even bat an eye at the way his sides were pressed against the arm rests of his desk chair most of the time. The editing style was retained and Hongjoong was rather proud of the younger man.

He hadn't expected the shorter man to choose an all you can eat restaurant as their destination. "Ah, hyung~ If you eat here, you'll get bigger~" San teased rather easily as Hongjoong's eyes scanned the massive man as if he could talk. He wasn't the slimmest person, carrying a small belly but it's not like he had grown to the size that Mingi had gotten to and San was an entirely different beast. He heard from the rest of their friends that he was unaware but he didn't think it was this crazy.

The two sat down at the booth as Hongjoong said, "Sannie, just let me grab what you want. You might be treating me today, but we're celebrating you too! You're probably the most popular fitness creator out there." It took a lot to not laugh at the sight when he said that. The most popular fitness creator being the largest person in the room, who's gut was pressing into the table and even resting on it where it protruded.

San smiled, "If that's what you say, hyung. I'll be sure to eat well." He had no doubts that the younger had been doing that for months at this point but today would be a proper test. Plate after plate was brought to the growing influencer as he stuffed his face just as well as he promised.

The clothes that his roommates bought for him could only do so well after the third upsize and around the seventh plate, San felt a relief in pressure as his gut expanded and pushed the table off balance for a moment. Hongjoong grabbed it in a panic as he heard the button rattling on the floor.

San looked flustered as he finally took in his body and how everything had settled on him. This wasn't just winter weight. In fact, it was the middle of the next fall. He had gotten so fat that he had broke his clothes. His fattened hands found his gut as he rubbed it, a small groan leaving him as he belched loudly, feeling his face flush from the people around staring at the gluttonous display he had put on.

He squirmed in his seat as he realized his ass needed two chairs to properly rest in them. Looking at Hongjoong who was equally as flustered by the sight, San whined, "Hyung, can we go to your place? I didn't mean to make a mess like this..." There was embarrassment bubbling up in his tone but all of his friends knew that was something that he enjoyed. He just didn't ever expect it to be in this way.

Even in Hongjoong's car, he was more aware of how it dipped and groaned when he sat in it, his belly filling up the space between him and the dashboard as he tried to relieve the pressure that had built up within it. Once they arrived at Hongjoong's apartment, Hongjoong pressed against him into the wall as San groaned while a burp bubbled up. "Oh, Sannie. How did you just realize this now?"

San felt his face flush while Hongjoong's hands explored his ample body, squeezing his moobs and getting a whimper from the younger. "You keep working out but when you're stuffing your face like that everyday, it's just barely keeping you strong." He still had muscles but the chub all over his body was more overwhelming than anything else. Each inch that Hongjoong pinched was a reminder of how he had let the supplement properly take effect and blow him up.

"I still am strong... I thought it was just bulking and-" He groaned when he felt Hongjoong's hands cup his ass and lift it, feeling the heft to him while he relished in the feeling. "This is more than bulking, Sannie. You're fat."

Hearing it plainly made a shiver run down his spine. Was that why he was having so much trouble to do certain things? Was that why people were referring to him as big guy? Was that why when Wooyoung rode him the other week, he only got his hands on his belly and he couldn't even see his own dick when looked down?

Hongjoong squeezed his crotch as they moved to his room, a mix of fat, desire, and pleasure to describe their bodies while they made out. A couple of times where Hongjoong leaned on his gut and got a burp out of the younger to his embarrassment before they continued, stripping each ill fitting layer away from San before he ended up with his ass pointed and his gut pressed into the mattress.

It oozed in just about every direction as Hongjoong inserted a finger, prepping San to take him. He had gotten so massive that Hongjoong, even with his chubby form, felt so much smaller. He was feeling his thighs mashing his fat pad into his underbelly as he rocked back and forth with Hongjoong's preparation of him.

He moaned when feeling Hongjoong enter him, his small belly resting on San's overly softened back as he pumped back and forth, sending ripples into his overfed body. San might have had all these fitness sponsorships but he had grown to a size where he was getting off better from his body humping his fat than properly being fucked and it was only skyrocketing his enjoyment.

It didn't take long for him to finish with how much his dick pressed into his underbelly as he released with a shout and panting to catch his breath while Hongjoong thrusted deep into him, clutching him by the love handles to get a better grip and reached his own ending soon after.

San lied down, flopping onto his back, watching his belly expand and eliminate the view of anything past it feeling himself grow harder again. Hongjoong admired the sight while he lied down next to him, rubbing his belly to help the younger digest after both the food and the pleasure that had just run through him.

A single question filled the air.

"Hyung, what if I put on weight intentionally?"

Insatiable for more was a good way to describe him but he liked himself getting this fat... and it would only get better if he did it on purpose.

#kpop feederism #atz feederism #gyuluttonous behaviour #chubby san #weight gain fiction

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