Sweet Surrender
Summary: Joel is there to protect you & a bond grows. Boston QZ, no Tess/Ellie.
Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted rape (not Joel), smut.
AN: Apologies to my Loki fan-fam. This one has been rolling around in my head for a while and I had to write it down.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
The world had sometimes been a dangerous place before the outbreak. Now, danger was the norm. You couldn't turn a corner without facing it. Cordyceps, thieves, rapists, murderers–in the end, we were destined to turn into one of them. There was no such thing as living pure and good these days. Those people were dead, and everyone else had blood on their hands.
The QZ maintained order as much as possible, although even those who were expected to protect had their hands dipped in nefarious affairs. But survival was the name of the game, and we all tried our best.
Survival meant long hours as a cook for the QZ's cafeteria, learning how to stretch food to feed those remaining, learning how to ration, learning to keep your head down.
Another end to the typical 10-hour shift and the sun had just begun its descent. Untying the greasy apron to hang on the hook until tomorrow, the cellar keys were grabbed to store the remaining ingredients not used–nothing was to be wasted.
"Hey, I'm heading down." The burly security guard nodded quietly, watching while you carried the random stockpile of long-expired sugar, dried spices, garden vegetables, and tins. The cellar was cold and dark, well sealed to hopefully prevent rodents. Items were shelved and inventory checked, making sure nothing had been tampered or was rotting.
The door to the cellar creaked and then clicked shut, making you turn.
"Hello?" you called out, pulse quickening. It was unlikely that a Cordyseyps would make it into the QZ, but not impossible.
From the shadows, the security guard emerged. But, what at first was a sense of relief quickly turned to dread as his large hand covered your mouth and a sharp knife pressed to your throat.
"Don't scream and you don't die. Got it?" Confused, you trembled beneath his hand, your mind going blank. "Got it?"
Your head nodded slowly and he gave a sinister smile. The knife dragged painfully downward to your shirt, cutting it open. His other hand to the button of his pants as they popped open with a grunt.
"So fuckin' pretty. Gonna make you feel real good in a minute," he rasped and your eyes averted to the side, away from his receding hairline and crooked teeth, stomach clenching in disgust. His heavy, greedy form pushed against you, attempting to pin you against the wall a few feet away.
Hand reaching out, you blindly felt for anything as your pants were roughly tugged. Only a few seconds until they'd be ripped off. Fingers grazed plastic jars, bags, boxes too large, glass. In the chaos of fumbling hands and zippers opening, your hand latched onto a glass bottle and drove it down to his head with a thud.
He jolted in shock at the impact, the knife in his hand slicing open your forearm. A second blow to the head, a sickening crack of glass on bone, and then you bolted toward the exit in a panic, blood running down your arm. Was that yours or his?
You burst through the door to the evening chill and collided into the arms of a firm brick wall of a man. Just your luck to run from the arms of one man and into the arms of another.
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Joel had sometimes wondered if a wanderer would be better off running into a Cordyceps or him. Who was the bigger monster? Both had been on the receiving end of screams and fear. Both were just trying to survive.
He hadn't had those thoughts for a few weeks, but he carried a reputation around town. Stares were ignored and rumors grew, but he didn't correct anyone. The more he was feared, the better.
Walking through midtown, another shift of burning the infected in the books, he looked forward to reclining on the couch and nursing a glass of whiskey. A door down the alley burst open and a small shaken frame collided into him. He had almost been as startled as you, wild-eyed, bloody, and trembling in his arms. Cheeks flushed, lip bleeding, shirt torn open. Damn, what kind of mess had she gotten herself in?
A guard appeared abruptly from the door and stopped short when he saw Joel. "Hold her," he yelled, slightly out of breath. "She needs to be detained."
He started towards you, pulling out zip ties, and Joel felt your grip on his shirt tighten.
"Why's she being detained?" Joel asked, calm and nonchalant, but he could feel your body trembling.
"That's none of your business."
Joel raised an eyebrow, putting a protective hand on your shoulder. He may not run this town, but he was typically given more respect than that by a guard. "Seems like it is my business now that I'm involved."
The guard's jaw flexed, considering Joel. "She assaulted a guard and resisted arrest for theft."
Joel looked from you to the guard, your eyes pleading with this stranger. Don't let me go with him. "This little thing assaulted you?"
The guard clenched his fist, narrowing his eyes at Joel. "And resisted arrest for theft."
Joel nodded, as if understanding clearly. "Did she also unzip your pants?"
The guard's face reddened, pulling the zipper up. "Hand her over."
Joel sighed. Just once, he'd like to have a day where there wasn't shit for him to clean up. "Listen, you had your little fun. But if you think she's going anywhere with you, you've got another thing comin'. It's time for you to leave before things get messy."
"Is that a threat?" he growled.
"No, it's a fact."
There was silence, Joel staring down the guard, his hand never leaving your shoulder. The guard looked between you and a man who might actually kill him.
"Fuckin' cunt," he mumbled, and spit on the ground at Joel's feet. Joel didn't move a muscle until the guard turned the corner, only then releasing his grip on you.
"Y'alright?" he asked.
You nodded out of habit, pulling your torn shirt over your chest in embarrassment. Was anyone alright these days?
Joel removed his flannel–a thin t-shirt underneath–and handed it to you, consciously trying his best not to stare at your lacy bra-clad breasts. It hadn't been that long since he'd seen a naked woman, but when was the last time that he'd seen one in something like that? Nowadays, everyone survived being practical–long lasting clothes, shelf stable foods, nothing frivolous.
You pulled his shirt on while whispering a thanks, careful to slip your cut arm through with a grimace.
"That could use some tending to," he said, looking down at the bloodied arm. "I'm just down here, can patch you up real quick."
No words came out when your mouth opened. You didn't know him. How could you kindly say that you didn't want to risk being assaulted twice in one day?
Noticing your hesitation, he rubbed his head in thought. "Or, I could get my med kit and bring it down. You can wait outside."
You nodded with a thankful smile and followed him to the gray brick building, one of the designated housing units within the QZ. He came back a few minutes later, a first aid kit tucked under his arm and a bottle of unlabeled alcohol in his hand.
"Where'd you get that?" you asked, medical supplies being hard to come by.
"Where does anyone get anything these days?" he replied cheekily.
Arm extended, his calloused hands gently brushed along your skin as he tipped the bottle to the wound, causing you to suck through your teeth in pain.
"Only hurts for a moment," he said, wiping away the excess blood. He was careful with you, slow to clean the wound, his dark eyes focused on tending to your arm.
"Don't think you'll need to be stitched up," he mumbled, placing a clean cloth over the wound, then wrapping it snugly with a roll of medical tape. "Good as new," he said when he was finished.
"What do I owe ya', doc?" you asked, examining your bandaged arm. He gave a slight smirk at the nickname, pulling you to your feet, his touch lingering for a moment before shoving his hand in his pocket. "It's on the house."
"Thank you…"
He gave you his name and you offered yours. The sky was in shades of pink and gray, the sun long since settled past the horizon.
"Let's get you back to your place before curfew."
You led the way, Joel striding with a casual gait next to you. Turning the corner on the block, you stopped in front of the steps to your building. "This is me."
You started to unbutton the flannel shirt to give back to him, but he shook his head. "Keep it. Looks better on you anyways."
Blushing in response, you pulled the shirt down. "Make sure you keep that wound clean and change the bandage in the mornin'."
"Yes doc." You smiled at him and were about to turn towards the door.
"Here," he said, pressing a small pocket knife into your palm. You turned it over in your hand, the smooth wooden handle worn down from years of use.
"I… I don't need that."
"Yes. You do." The way he said it was like it was final. The knife was pocketed and you looked up into his dark eyes, his forehead creased.
"Thanks. Goodnight Joel," you said, and he stood in front of your building until you were out of sight, safe for the night.
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It had been more than a week since the incident. The thought of not returning to work had crossed your mind, but no asshole was going to have that kind of power over you. Walking through the cafeteria door with your head held high and Joel's knife tucked away in your pocket, you discovered a new guard stationed. He stood watch at the front and nodded his head in your direction when he caught you staring.
Had the other guard been repositioned to a new post? Had Joel reported him? Either way, he wasn't worth a second thought, and you went about the day a little happier.
At the end of another long shift, your hands ached from peeling a bin of potatoes and your hair was coated in flour. Those long ago days of standing aimlessly under a hot shower were a distant memory, but sometimes you still daydreamed about it. How long had it been since you'd taken a proper shower, instead of the warmed up sponge baths you were all accustomed to now? Memories of those daily luxuries clouded your mind when you spotted Joel across the street.
"Hey doc," you said with a smile, crossing to meet him. To the average observer, Joel seemed to have a scowl, but you could see the corner of his lip turn up when he spotted you.
"How's the arm?"
You stretched it out, the same bandage wrapped around with clean cloth. "Sore, but healing."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm headed to the cafeteria. You hungry?"
You crinkled up your nose. "Hungry, yes. But there's no way I'm stepping back in that building after a 10-hour shift. Come with me."
He raised an eyebrow. "You know of somewhere else to get food?"
"You'll see."
Your apartment was a small studio–a bed, a table, a few chairs. In exchange for housing, you worked wherever there was a need. Knick knacks and artwork decorated window sills and walls. Joel wondered what was yours and what had been here before the outbreak.
"Make yourself at home," you said as your key clanged on the counter. Dried pasta and a tin of tomato sauce were pulled from a cupboard and set on the counter.
"Where'd you find that?" he asked, knowing everything was rationed and outside food was hard to come by.
"You have your secrets and I have mine," you said with a wink.
"So," you began, filling a pot with water and setting it to boil on the stove while watching Joel out of the corner of your eye. "I'm guessing you weren't a doctor…before..."
You trailed off and he shook his head, casually taking in the minimal decor, a small collection of books on one shelf, some plants you managed to dig up and repot on the window sills. "Construction," he said simply, picking up a brain teaser puzzle from the table and fiddling with the metal hooks.
"How long have you been in Boston?" he asked, watching as you pulled some spices from a high shelf, your shirt riding up when you reached. He turned his head in an attempt to focus on the brain teaser and hope you hadn't caught his stare.
"Few months now." Dried pasta was poured into the boiling water, watching as it swirled around with your wooden spoon. "My last QZ… it wasn't safe. A few of us snuck out. We'd heard Boston might be better."
You almost said it like it was a question, but Joel knew the answer. He'd seen his share of shit going down in Boston; hell, he'd sometimes been apart of it.
"Anyway, thank you for your help the other day. I don't want you to think I'm some damsel in distress, but… I'm grateful you were there."
And it was true, you didn't want him thinking you were helpless. But it felt so good to have someone protect you for once.
He shook his head. "Anyone who's survived this long I wouldn't consider to be a damsel in distress."
The sad attempt at a spaghetti marinara was placed in front of him. "Well, it's no Olive Garden, but…"
"It's perfect," he said, looking between you and the large plate. Timidly, you handed him one of the two forks and sat opposite of him, ready to dig in.
You and he ate in a semi-comfortable silence, occasionally chatting about the going-ons of the QZ. It was nice to have someone around, without needing to give a life story.
Studying him while he ate, you noticed a collection of scars on his arms and face, new wounds on his hands that were bruised and slowly scabbing over. But for all the marks that decorated his body, the scowl that he carried around with him, you felt comfortable in his presence, an inkling that he wouldn't hurt you.
After dinner, you walked him to the door and he paused in the frame, towering over you. He studied the flecks in your eyes and you smiled nervously.
There was something about you that he hadn't felt in a long time, like he needed to protect you from every fucker in this world. His stare made something twist inside you and looking down, you reached for his palm. He looked down at your touch, bringing the metal brain teaser between you.
"Figured I should trade you something for the knife. Let me know if you solve this one," you said, telling him good night and falling asleep in his flannel shirt.
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"I'm telling you, he saw it with his own eyes."
The kitchen crew huddled around as you walked in, tying the worn black apron around your waist.
"What are we talking about?" you asked the group, grabbing a bin of apples picked recently.
"Rob's roommate went on a patrol last night. He ran into one of the guards who had turned into a cordyceps."
You nodded, grabbing a knife from the drawer, slicing the apple in two. "Ok, that's nothing new."
"Yeah, but they found him tied to a tree."
Knife paused mid-cut, you lifted your head. "What?"
"The guy was tied up, like hands bound, feet tied, gagged, all tied up like someone left him there."
A cold chill slowly crept up your spine, "Who was it?"
They all shrugged their shoulders, no one giving a confirmed response, only speculations mumbled amongst themselves. Your heart pounded, stomach in knots. It couldn't be…. Could it?
When your shift was done, you raced to the gray brick building. Six stories high and you had no idea which apartment was his. Shit!
You had half a mind to just start knocking on every door. Pacing back and forth, your name was called and you looked up to see Joel walking toward you like an answer to a prayer.
"What are you–"
"I need to talk to you," you interrupted, coming up to him abruptly, eyes fierce. He could sense you were trying to control the quiver in your voice and raised his eyebrows. "Alright. Everything okay?"
You shook your head. "Not here."
He took you up to his apartment, holding the door as you walked in. The room was small, dark, and cold, the small brain teaser sitting on the counter.
"You okay?" he asked, closing the door behind you, a look of concern on his face.
Ignoring his inquiry, you turned on your heel to face him. "Did you kill him?"
It was demanding, accusational, harsher than you had meant. He stared at you quietly and your pulse thumped in your neck.
This world was difficult to survive in, and you'd scraped your way through it on your own wits and a lot of luck. There had been friends, family, acquaintances that were less than trustworthy, and most of them were either gone or dead. And here was this man you barely knew who came out of nowhere to protect you. It threw you off balance.
"What are you talking ab-"
"No Joel," you said, raising a hand to stop him. "Don't do that. Don't play dumb with me. That guard, did you kill him? Tell me the truth."
He studied you, this small fiery force that looked scared but put up a front. How had she survived this long, he wondered.
"Alright," he began slowly, "you want the truth? The truth is after I took you home, I saw him lingering around your building. I watched him, talking to the other guards, studying the building, pointing to your window. If I hadn't done what I did, he would have raped and killed you, and then probably come after me out of spite."
Stunned by his answer, you shook your head in disbelief. "You don't know that Joel. I didn't… I didn't ask you to do that!"
The guilt of this somehow being your fault weighed on you. There'd been so many deaths, so many infected, it just seemed like everyone was ticking away until there'd be no one left. He absentmindedly placed a hand on your arm in an attempt to calm you.
"Hey, hey," he said your name, pulling your eyes to his. "This isn't your fault. This isn't on you. He made his choices. That's on him, not on you."
You interjected–but, maybe I should have–but he pressed on, sternly. "Listen to me. If I hadn't done what I'd done, you wouldn't be standing here right now. It was either you or him, and I'd be damned if it was him." His tone softened. An orange glow emanated through the window behind him, curfew coming in a couple hours. "I know people like that. They'll prey on you, and you're too sweet to see it."
Joel didn't care for much of anything in this world. But the line in his forehead told you that somehow he cared for you.
"You could have been killed, Joel," you said shakily. "They could still hang you if they found out."
His jaw flexed. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant not letting that fucker touch you."
Something inside you sparked at his words and, without thinking, a hand reached up to take hold of the collar on his flannel, pulling him down to you. He hesitated, that ever present scowl forming on his face, but you knew better and pushed yourself up on your toes. Eyes never breaking contact, your lips brushed over his, a silent invitation.
His eyebrows creased, grappling between what he wanted to do and what he should do. You were delicate and quite possibly one of the last good people in this fucked up world, and he was a bad man. His thumb drew a line across your lips, their sheen drying on his thumb.
"It's getting late," he whispered.
"Yeah? Seems like I'm in the safest place I could be right now." Your smirk told him that you had him there. Fingers drew a line up his arm to his firm bicep, waiting for any telltale sign that you shouldn't be here. "It's ok, Joel."
Your words were so quiet, he almost didn't hear it with how bad his ear had been lately. But the look he gave told you he had. His other hand drew up, framing your face in his rough palms, and he captured your mouth with his. He wanted to be delicate with you, but he was not a delicate man, and when a low guttural moan escaped you, he knew he was fucked.
His hands trailed down before settling on your ass. Lifting up, your legs wrapped around his torso, arms around his neck, and his whiskers tickled your lips.
"Fuck, girl," he grunted. "Do you know what you're doing?"
You snickered, feeling the length of him pressed against you while he carried you to his bed of worn sheets and old blankets. Leaning in, you whispered in his ear, "Gonna show you how sweet I can be."
The air went out of him in a short huff and he set you down on the bed. He stilled as he took you in. There weren't many good moments in this world anymore, few that he cared to remember or cherish. But watching you lay there, waiting for him, it was a memory he'd hold onto when things got rough, when he ever felt lonely.
His chest heaved in anticipation as you reached up and pulled off your shirt, the same lacy black bra he'd seen before.
"Oh, you know exactly what you're doing," he mumbled and, grabbing hold of your ankles, slid you down to the edge. His arms caged around your head and he leaned in, a serious expression on his face. "You sure about this?"
You nodded, the anticipation causing you to tremble slightly.
"You gonna be a good girl for me and take off those pants?" That slow Texas drawl was as sweet as honey, and you moved maybe a little too quickly to unbutton your jeans, shimmying them down.
He chuckled to himself, thrilled to see how eager you were. Truth be told, it had been hard to connect with anyone after the outbreak. It was hard to trust, hard to hold onto anyone, hard to fucking relax. But, with Joel, you felt safe.
He pulled at the ankle of your jeans, slipping them off, then hooked a thumb through the waistband of your underwear. There was a confidence in his actions as he slipped them off and pocketed them. Dropping to his knees, you lifted up on your forearms, watching him with curiosity. It was a struggle to take his time, but he trailed some delicate kisses up your thigh before his mouth consumed your cunt. Head thrown back, you echoed an animalistic moan when he gripped onto your hips to keep you close.
"So fuckin' sweet," he mumbled, the whiskers of his beard tickling you in all the best ways. His tongue lapped rhythmically, making your toes start to twitch in rhythm. You gasped his name, running your fingers through his graying hair, gripping it when he found a special sweet spot.
"Right there," you choked out, holding onto your breath while he made you see stars. He dipped a finger in while swirling your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, then added a second. His fingers slid in and out, making you start to shake.
"Come on, sweet girl," he coaxed. "I know you're close."
Thighs gripping around his head, that final release caused you to moan and shudder and shake uncontrollably, not having let go that much since before the outbreak.
It was dark and hazy in his room, the only light from a crescent moon reflecting off him when he sat up and crawled toward you. His eyes were hungry with a desire that was not yet satisfied. You bit at your bottom lip, anticipating what he would do next.
"You doing ok sweet girl?"
"Yeah."
"Good," he said as he hovered over you. "Turn over."
Your eyes grew wide, but he didn't have to tell you twice. You rolled on your stomach and felt as he trailed kisses down your spine. The metal of his leather belt clanged as he unbuckled it, then the quick whine of his zipper.
"Come 'ere," he said as he gripped onto your hips and lifted you to your knees. You knew what he wanted and you tilted your back down and ass up higher.
"Like that?" you asked, feigning innocence. Joel tried to keep his composure, but you were too fucking much for him and he knew he wouldn't last long.
"Good girl," he choked out, gripping himself before sliding into you with ease. Your soaking cunt sucked him in effortlessly, and a chorused moan resounded through the room. You may have already cum once tonight, but by the way his cock stretched you, it was inevitable you'd cum a second time.
"Joel," you whispered over and over again as he thrust into you. There was no easing in or getting used to his size, he was past controlling himself to go gently. His movements were ragged, rough, needy.
Your pussy clenched around him, so close to that second release. He gripped onto you harder and pulled you up to him.
"Touch yourself," he drawled, and you reached down to rub at your clit. His mouth went to your ear, whispering, "I want you to cum on my cock."
You moaned in response, his hands roaming to your breasts while he thrusted.
It only took a few more pumps before you started to quiver, your head thrown against his shoulder in ecstasy. When he knew you were down from your high, he pulled out, him cum warm as it shot on your back and ass.
You laid on your stomach, fully spent and satisfied, while he searched for a towel to clean you up. Eyes closing while he wiped up his mess, you wondered if he had just marked his territory. Either way, you knew you were his.
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hello! i'm boneset (or bone). thanks for stopping by my super-specific search thread! if interested, please leave a reply or dm me!
a bit about myself: she/her. I'm currently in my late 20's and have been writing/roleplaying in some shape or form for 12+ years. i'm in grad school (and will be for awhile) and work full time in mental healthcare. occasionally, days are wild.
when it comes to writing, i generally write somewhere between 500-1k words a post. the shorter the post, the faster i can write. i definitely value someone who's writing fits with mine over length or anything like that. i'm also super flexible when it comes to post rate. if it takes a little bit, that's totally fine! especially if we do build a rapport. i want this to stay as something that's fun for both of us. it's a hobby, so it comes after everything else.
doubling. i play a canon for you, you play one for me, and i love every character as my own. OR we both play two ocs who fall in love against their will. Idc.
m!canon x f!oc preferred (or m!oc x f!oc). I know who I am. I have no shame. I’m so super cautious about m// and f// after years of running into folks treating it as a fetish.
ooc chatting. for the rps that have survived my hiatuses, it's been because we made friends, or at least friendly. i like talking, sharing head canons, all that stupid crap. tldr: i need someone to send memes to.
ooc over discord, please, after we’ve graduated to that. DMs first if you don’t mind.
email, discord, gdocs, and tumblr in order of preference for the roleplay but I'm open to any.
i am a sap for romance. less so for super slow burns. sue me. I can barely read slow burn much less write it.
500-1000 words is my sweet spot for responses, but i'm not that fast of a writer, depending on what's going on. see: why i like ooc.
hard limits: be 18+ (21+ preferred) | will not write with people who identify as male (he/him) | incest | fetish stuff | abo | pwp | pedophilia | furries/beastiality | explicitly written sexual assault | abusive relationship dynamics between main characters | heavy substance abuse | main settings being medical | most highschool settings/underage characters | genuine love triangles or infidelity between main characters
pairings and all below the break!
for fandoms, I’m going to list what I’m looking to play the oc in. I am super duper happy to play nearly any canon character for you.
the walking dead:
*i haven't seen the spin-off series. super comfortable going as AU as we want.
*looking for: glenn (pls pls pls), daryl
*will play: rick, daryl, shane, negan, others probably
*some vibes: people who knew each other prior to the zombies meeting each other again after, dead rising vibes, traveling through the wilderness, overgrown and rundown towns and cities, towns that have gone mad, human enemies, natural threats, fluff, megamalls, amusement parks, adventure, horror, fluff, uneasiness in the calm, found family, hesitant allies
resident evil:
*i like it all, okay? welcome to racoon city, all the games, the animated films...even the live action netflix put out! it's just FUN.
*looking for: leon, piers, carlos
*will play: chris, albert, luis, piers, etc.
*some vibes: hurt/comfort extreme, international adventures, partners in life and in work, idk absolute insanity. vacation? what's a vacation, there's always zombies, basically the evil of capitalism, embrace the weird of the game universes (i mean really. there's werewolves)
the last of us:
*i've played both games and watched the show
*looking for: tommy miller, m!oc
*will play: joel, ellie, others, m!oc
*some vibes: FIX IT JESUS, protecting family, human enemies, natural threats, antagonistic towns, lost in the wild, weird periods of domestic easiness followed by hurt/comfort hell
red dead redemption:
*i've played rdr and rdr2. kind of familiar with revolver.
*looking for: charles smith
*will play: arthur, john, dutch, others (but not micah)
*some vibes: railroad turmoil, dutch has lots of plans (very little outcomes), high society meets the old west, running from the law, causing problems, adventures in the big city, trying to leave old lives behind, forbidden love, enemies to lovers
fallout:
*i've played 1, 2, 3, 4, 76 & NV. mainly looking for nv.
*looking for: m!oc
*will play: ask for canons, m!oc
*some vibes: causing chaos in the wastes, embracing the local cryptid status of the player character, toxic people everywhere, attempting to survive, mercenaries, prostitutes, salt of the earth managing to do some good against their will, traveling to other locations
avatar the last airbender
*i've seen the show several times, live action, and korra, but haven't read comics.
*looking for: adult!sokka
*will play: adult!zuko, ask for other canons!
*some vibes: post series feeling out their new roles in society, rebuilding following war, uprisings from unhappy sections, earth kingdom is just as big of a mess as firenation please help, 'forbidden' relationships, political drama, festival romance
original(ish) story vibes:
zombies! please zombies. love it. media inspo: l4d, deadrising, resident evil, twd, george romero
fantasy. royalty, pirates, mermaids, adventures, curses, and extra doses of romance. some assassins? hiding from responsibility? childhood friends to lovers and enemies finding common ground. media inspo: ACOTAR, lord of the rings, ever king, damsel, fire emblem, (for modern of these vibes) new protectorate by abigail kelly
urban fantasy vibes. witches and monsters, and romance and weirdness. maybe some monsters. eldritch beings. small town, rural america? media inspo: x-files, teen wolf, supernatural, stay a spell by juliette cross, scooby doo, being human, folk haven by lauren connolly, old gods of appalachia
cowboys! Modern? Traditional? I do not care i love cowboys and the south, just minus all of those….you know, issues. media inspo: red dead redemption, man from snowy river, yellow stone, lyla sage books
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