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justagalwhowrites · 6 months

Note

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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robininthelabyrinth · 1 year

Note

Could you do Accidental sworn brothers NHS, JC, WWX?

ao3

“So,” Jiang Cheng said.

It was a very ominous sort of ‘so’.

“Hi, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said. “Have you eaten? I trust you been well. I’ve been all right, myself. Things are pretty quiet. The weather’s been pretty nice, though I don’t think it’s ever as nice in Qinghe as it is in Yunmeng. Has it been raining much?”

Jiang Cheng was giving him a death glare.

“…lots of rain, huh?”

“I don’t care about the vast majority of what you did to get revenge on Jin Guangyao,” Jiang Cheng said flatly. “But you put Jin Ling in danger.”

“Not…much danger.” At Jiang Cheng’s incredulous look, Nie Huaisang shrugged. “He kept him alive this long, didn’t he? I figured Jin Ling was pretty safe, as these things went. It was only at the very last moment that he actually threatened him directly – and Jin Ling wasn’t even supposed to be there.”

Judging from Jiang Cheng’s expression, he wasn’t buying Nie Huaisang’s argument.

“All right, fine,” Nie Huaisang said. “Still, you came to visit me, which means that you’re not just here to yell and tell me that our friendship is over, you could do that by letter. You want something from me?”

Jiang Cheng struggled for a moment, then grimaced. “Yeah, I want something.”

He was so predictable sometimes.

“Tell me what you need me to do to get your friendship back, and I’ll do it.” Nie Huaisang thought about it for a moment. “Within reason.”

“I want you to help me fix my relationship with Wei Wuxian.”

“…I said within reason, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said, horrified. “Do you want me to bring the moon down and give it to you while I’m at it?”

“It’s not that bad!” Jiang Cheng protested, except, no, really, it was exactly that bad. Years and years of deception and betrayal and bad feelings on both sides, an incredibly knotty tangle of emotions with no one completely right and no one completely wrong and debts and anger and – it was bad, okay? “Anyway, you managed to fix Jin Guangyao, didn’t you, even though he was Chief Cultivator and you had basically no evidence? Fix this, too.”

“It’s in no way comparable!”

“Listen, you said you wanted to know what you needed to do to get us to be all right with each other again, right? This is it. Do it.”

Nie Huaisang opened his mouth in protest.

“I won’t accept anything else,” Jiang Cheng said, and crossed his arms in a way that suggested finality. “You’re the mastermind, aren’t you? So mastermind!”

Nie Huaisang really didn’t want to lose Jiang Cheng’s friendship, now that he knew there was a possibility of keeping it, but he also had no idea how to even start going about fixing the unfixable. He flattered himself to think that he knew Jiang Cheng pretty well after all these years, but based on everything that had happened, he didn’t understand Wei Wuxian well enough to know where to start.

Clearly, he needed help. No, more than help – he needed expertise.

Currently, Nie Huaisang was sitting in one of the rooms in the Cloud Recesses the Lan sect used to host guests waiting to see the sect leader on business. Of course, with Lan Xichen in seclusion at the moment, the actual person taking petitions was the person Nie Huaisang come to see: Lan Wangji.

He didn’t expect to be seen to quickly, the way he might have when he’d been on familiar terms with Lan Xichen – he was a Great Sect leader, yes, and an allied one, and so ought to be accorded first priority, but Lan Wangji was also a petty little brat sometimes. Lan Qiren had come by in an unofficial capacity, looking long-suffering, and they’d had an unexpectedly enjoyable conversation on the subject of the rules relating to filial piety and revenge, which Nie Huaisang interpreted as possibly the first time Lan Qiren had ever voluntarily given him a good grade on anything.

(He was weirdly moved by it, but mostly still traumatized. He’d hated school.)

After the old teacher left, Nie Huaisang sat around waiting and drinking tea, amusing himself by thinking of all the ways this forthcoming conversation could go wrong, and just when he’d gotten to the end of the fourth scenario, Wei Wuxian himself came strolling in.

“Oh, hi, Wei-xiong!” Nie Huaisang said brightly, not allowing considerations like shame to apply. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” Wei Wuxian said. “And you?”

“Well, I’m –”

“It works out quite well that you’re here, actually,” Wei Wuxian said, barreling onwards without waiting for the answer. “There was something I was hoping you might help me with.”

Nie Huaisang hid his face behind a fan. “Who, me…? I mean, I’m always glad to help, if it’s within my power – and, I mean, I’m glad you asked! And here I was worried that Wei-xiong didn’t like me anymore.”

Wei Wuxian waved a dismissive hand and sat down.

“I’m sure it’s something you can help with,” he said, smiling in a way Nie Huaisang didn’t like. “After all, you led the entire cultivation world around by the nose to catch Jin Guangyao, didn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say that…”

“Well, I would. This should be no problem in comparison!”

Which meant, of course, that it was going to be a problem, because anything was easy in comparison.

“Oh, Wei-xiong, I really don’t know…”

“Don’t give me that! At least listen to it, okay?”

Nie Huaisang was always willing to listen. He nodded.

“I need you to use your mastermind skills to help me fix my relationship with Jiang Cheng.”

Nie Huaisang blinked once, long and slow. “With…Jiang Cheng?”

“That’s right!”

“But…why me…”

“Everything is just a complete mess between us,” Wei Wuxian said plainly. “It’s probably mostly my fault, and I’ve probably wronged him in ways I don’t even remember, but – I’d like to fix it. I’ve tried to fix it. I even tried leaving it alone to see if that would help, and it definitely didn’t. Everything I’ve done only makes it worse! So I need someone else to manage it.”

“And you picked…me?”

“Don’t put yourself down, Nie-xiong. You’ll manage!”

“I haven’t even agreed yet!”

“You need something from Lan Zhan, don’t you?” Wei Wuxian said, grinning at him. “You’ll agree.”

“Of course I’ll agree,” Nie Huaisang said with a huff, tossing his head. “You’re a dear friend, Wei-xiong! Why wouldn’t I agree?”

Anyway, he had to do the work for Jiang Cheng anyway. Might as well score some points flattering Wei Wuxian while he was at it.

“You’re so kind,” Wei Wuxian said, rolling his eyes at him. “Thanks, Nie-xiong. I look forward to hearing what our next move is. Have fun having tea with Lan Zhan!”

“You did this to yourself,” Lan Wangji said solemnly.

“I know,” Nie Huaisang said. He was lying on the floor, arms and legs splayed to the sides as he stared up at the roof in an effort to express the depths of his desolation. “I’m well aware.”

“Mm.”

“I’m having a crisis over it, even.”

“Mm. Could you have the crisis elsewhere?”

“Don’t be mean, Lan Zhan. Of course not. I need your help!”

“Denied,” Lan Wangji said, as if Nie Huaisang really were just one of the random petitioners he had to deal with these days.

“If you don’t help me, I’ll fix up their relationship so good that you’ll have to deal with Jiang Cheng all the time,” Nie Huaisang said threateningly, and noted with amusement the way Lan Wangji’s brow twitched at the thought of having to share either space, time, or Wei Wuxian with Jiang Cheng. “Listen, no matter what the others think, I’m not really a schemer or a mastermind! I just ran with the course of events and tried to change them when they looked like they weren’t going my way, that’s all.”

“I wish you luck,” Lan Wangji said, immoveable as an iceberg.

“If I try to solve this, I’m only going to make it worse,” Nie Huaisang said. “That’s not even a threat. It’s just a fact.”

“I look forward to seeing the end results,” Lan Wangji said.

Cruel, indifferent man.

“I don’t even have a good model on how to solve this,” Nie Huaisang complained. “I mean, I don’t think I know of any relationships that splintered and then were actually repaired? The only thing that comes even close is what er-ge was up to with da-ge and san-ge all that time ago, when he was trying to get them to like each other again – of course, san-ge ruined that by committing murder, but I think we can probably avoid that here! I mean, I think we can. And it’s not workable, anyway, because…”

He frowned. Nothing was coming to mind.

Nothing at all.

Well then.

“Actually…”

Lan Wangji actually put down his brush. He looked mildly alarmed. “Nie Huaisang,” he said. “What are you thinking of doing?”

“Nothing, nothing…nothing at all…”

“How did this happen?” Jiang Cheng wondered.

“No idea,�� Wei Wuxian said. “But at least we’re friends again, right?”

“Not just friends,” Jiang Cheng said. “Isn’t that right, da-ge?”

Wei Wuxian puffed himself up like a peacock. “You bet, er-di!”

“The sacrifices I make for my friends amaze even me,” Nie Huaisang said to a stunned-looking Lan Wangji. “I’m really all heart, aren’t I?”

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Wangji said solemnly. “I am going to kill you.”

Nie Huaisang cackled. “No, you’re not,” he said cheerfully. “Or else my da-ge and er-ge might have something to say about how you’re treating their san-di…and I, at least, promise not to kill either of them!”

#mdzs #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #I'm finally going to start posting again #even though I'm mortally terrified I'm going to repost an old one #which is at least 65% of why I have been so quiet #but I will do it anyway #anyway showing up WAY late with your prompt fill sorry #my nhs&lwj childhood friends agenda strikes again #also my 'what is the funniest way this could happen' agenda

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runningfrom2am · 3 months

Note

1. coryo’s reaction at the the beginning is very real. “i thought we were over this.”

2. r trying to get jessup to the open grave reaper organised is everything to me. she deserves all the hugs.

3. her being closest to the person she was when she left district 12, while offering her life in exchange for a few words feels she is trying to hold onto her identity.

4. “My heart was heavy, for its trust had been / Abused, its kindness answered with foul wrong;” there is no way she doesn’t remember the first two lines of this poem but that part is personal and she gets to keep it.

5. not gonna lie, coral made me laugh there. imagine you’re fighting to death and there’s a girl who conveys her every thought through poems.

6. how i love reaper, honestly. he genuinely might be the best of them. it would be horrible if he were to be hit by the drones.

7. “What would be the use in helping her now?” oh, the reality and the corruption it brings.

8. SHE SMILED AT CORAL!! this might be the “death” of our “juliet”, i wonder when will “romeo” “die”.

9. coryo finally seems to have learned how to twist the truth, good for him!

10. TAKE THE GIRL OUT OF THERE! it’s horrible enough to have experienced all of that but to spend a night at the same spot with only guilt to keep company is terrifying.

11. wondering if coryo regrets what he did because she has done things that she isn’t proud of, empathy might become the very thing that keeps her sane. also i think this is the first time she called him coriolanus, internally.

12. her look on everything is being challenged, from her morals to her love. this actually made me cry.

13. is coryo not going to be exiled? with the compact seemingly unnoticed and the note having an explanation to exist there, maybe he gets away.

this one is long y’all- strap in

1. literally lol- he’s like “damn i JUST find out you’re still alive and you’re giving up??”

2. ugh yeah 🥺 and he deserved it too like i literally think she saw no other options. she was sure getting him there would cost her her life and it was worth it.

3. yes this!! i think she had a few minutes of clarity almost- where later on she thinks ab how the “old her” is just a voice in the back of her mind it’s really not! only when her life is threatened not on her terms does she really stray from that relentless empathy that really makes her who she is.

4. yuppp you get it you get it.

5. NO LITERALLY like if i was coral i wouldn’t have patience for that either like i do get it hahaha

6. REAPERRRR he deserved so much better and i LOVED his character especially in the book. he’s so complex and i do honestly think he’s quite similar to r, but he just put up this show that he was a threat and she never made that attempt. all he wanted was to protect dill. i’ll cry for him forever.

7. YUP. i feel like she doesn’t even want to think that way or even necessarily believe what she’s thinking but she doesn’t have time for second-thoughts and is constantly almost in this battle with her mind and her body where she wants to do the “right” thing but her body is doing what it can to protect and save itself before she can think of repercussions. that would be SO incredibly confusing and scary to deal with so her mind almost has to “pretend” to play along to protect itself. (if this makes any sense at all.) i just mean that the more “dark” less characteristically accurate thoughts she is having feel almost performative, she has to trick herself into it so she doesn’t feel as guilty. (this doesn’t work.)

8. now as we go on in the chapter my last point starts to get very blurry. because a smile, a comment like that, literally mocking coral in her last moments are so unlike r that it’s shocking. like you said, the death of juliet, in a sense. so how much of that is genuinely what she is feeling, and how much is what she thinks she should be feeling? she comes across as kind, gentle, even naive, but this interaction makes it obvious that she has never seen coral in much of a positive light- especially after the games started. so maybe she saw no consequence in getting at least one jab in at her, but she does regret this later when that clarity comes back.

9. lol yeah he ATE. (in this one i needed him to have his “i’m just sending water” moment and this was it lol)

10. no LITERALLY like dr. gaul knew damn well those boys in the vents were dead even if she thought it was by the snakes. it feels almost more like a test for coryo than for her, though it is a cruel punishment to just leave her like that.

11. i’m so glad you get it, like this girl bleeds empathy. i think leaving her overnight wasn’t meant to force her to dwell on what she had done, because according to the cameras, she really hadn’t done anything. i think that’s what made it so hard, too. no one knew what she had done besides herself. she doesn’t know or care if anyone besides coryo is still watching by the time she pulls out the compact, intent on taking her own life whether she realizes consciously that’s what she wants or not, and then when he takes that from her she confesses. as far as she knows, she’s confessing to the world bc she really couldn’t live with herself otherwise. she’s just lucky that he happens to be the only one there. she’s lucky, but she doesn’t care.

ALSO the coriolanus thing,, yup. she was VERY quick at the beginning to separate him from his name. as soon as she found out his nickname she clung to it and really decided that he was coryo, not coriolanus. that line is so blurred by now that she doesn’t know who he is anymore.

12. me too 🥺 my heart breaks for her because even if she did technically “cheat”, she didn’t do anything wrong. she was so much more harmless than almost all of the others, she tried her best to stay that way but she just couldn’t.

13. i mean… as long as no one looks over the footage of what happened that night and early in the morning he should be fine 😬

#i have the answers #cold nights <3 #that-veela-girl

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kelin-is-writing · 1 year

Note

oki last one for today :3 (sry this one might hurt a little)

so for whatever reason you end up having to go to the hospital for a few days and dabi obviously can't go with you bc he's a wanted criminal. this means he has to stay at your place all by himself and poor baby is struggling.

not only is the loneliness extremely overwhelming but he also has no idea how to take care of himself. he's always been rather neglectful when it came to this but having you in his life made him realize how important it is to look after himself. and now you weren't there to help him anymore.

he spends most of the day trying to distract himself by watching tv or doing anything that would usually get his mind off of things but no matter what he tries he just can't stop thinking about you. he barely sleeps while you're gone and the worry is eating him alive.

he tried calling you a few times but it always went straight to voicemail. were you avoiding him on purpose? maybe you're mad at him for some reason? little did he know that you just had terrible reception inside the hospital :')

and then you finally come back home. dabi rly tried to hold back his tears but the second he got to wrap his arms around you he lost control of all the emotions that had built up over the past few days. also prepare to get spoiled for the rest of the week bc no one takes better care of you than dabi himself (his words). he literally won't let you lift a single finger and it takes a lot of convincing until he stops carrying you everywhere xD

- 🥛

LISTEN MILK— you know i live for doting caring boyfriend dabi, why you gotta poke on my weakness like that???

that being said...

he for real wouldn’t leave you alone one damn second. wherever you go he’s gonna be tailing you and when you tell him “y’know, i can go get my phone charger alone...”, dabi would look at you skeptical, an eyebrow raised and mouth twisted in a grimace “yeah, sure doll, last time i left you alone you ended up hospitalised for one week”, and as response you just roll your eyes at him with a loud exasperated sigh before walking inside your room, the villain strolling calmly right behind you.

literally freaks out at the slightest exclamation you let out, rushing to you all panicked the moment he hears an “damn it!” or “shit!”, he’s in a millisecond by your side asking “what’s wrong?”, and once you explain to him what happened he sighs relieved, then tells you to let him handle whatever you need to do.

when you mention him how you still struggle to bend down or forward, because of the aftermath of your incident, dabi offers right away to massage wherever you’re hurting and he even washes you when the two of you bath together, he has now started to love taking baths together even more.

literally ends up babying you and enjoys every second of it.

#kelin responds #answered #🥛#bnha fluff #mha fluff #dabi fluff #touya todoroki fluff #bnha x reader fluff #mha x reader fluff #dabi x reader fluff #touya todoroki x reader fluff #doting boyfriend dabi is just so 🥰#ugh. yes. love of my life 💙#was literally so torn between which one of your asks should i've answered first and like–#this fluffy baby here won in the end hehe #who wouldn't love some more doting boyfriend dabi??? let's be real now 😚

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dialovers-translations · 1 year

Text

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Yuma [BRUTE ENDING]

ー The scene starts in front of Eden

Shuu: ...

...I won’t give you my powers.

Kino: ...! Heeh...So you don’t care about what happens to her?

Shuu: I never said that. I won’t let you have either.

After all, I won’t be able to make it up to that guy if I let you have either of those things.

Ruki: You heard him. We’ll take her back.

Kino: ...!

Yuma: Yui!!

ー Yuma runs up to them

Yui: Yuma-kun!!

Kou: Thank god, you were safe...! Gosh, took you long enough!

Yuma: I came dashin’ here, ya know!?

Wait for me, Yui! I’ll save ya right now!

Kino: Che...I guess I’m at an obvious disadvantage here.

ー Kino makes a run for it with Yui

Yuma: Yui!! Fuck...!

ー Yuma chases after them

Shuu: ーー We’re going after them as well!

ー The scene shifts to the open fields at Rotigenberg

Kino: ーー Damnit! Fuck this shit!

Those bastard...! They must have gone crazy to oppose me like that! Do they really not care what happens to this woman!?

Yuuri...Right, I’ll have Yuuri burn all of them to a crisp!

Then once Shuu is dead, I’ll be able to get my hands on his powers...!

Yui: ーー I won’t let you do that.

Kino: ...Hah? Excuse me? You’re going to oppose me as well? I hope you don’t think you’ve actually become some kind of Queen?

Yui: While I may have been set up...I still bear the responsibility of having sacrificed the lives of many people.

Kino: Hah. Well if that isn’t admirable. Sure thing. Go ahead and fulfill this ‘duty’ of yours then ーー

*STAB*

*Splatter*

Kino: ーー Hah?

Yui: ( ...Yuma-kun. I know I told you off for doing the wrong thing back then. But I think I sort of understand now. )

( Sometimes it is necessary to dirty one’s own hands...to protect someone else. Even if that is the wrong thing to do. )

Kino: No way...Gah!

ー Kino collapses

*Thud*

Kino: I...wasn’t informed...you could be so heartless...

...

Yui: ( ...I believe that right now, I might just understand.

( How Yuma-kun and Shuu-san feel in regards to Lucks-san and Yuma-kun respectively... )

...No matter how hard one tries to atone for their sins, it is never enough.

Yui: ( ーー Even if they give their own life in return. )

*STAB*

*Splatter*

Yui: ...Uu...Ah...

ー She collapses as well

*Cling*

*Thud*

Yui: ...

*TIMESKIP*

Yuma: ...Yo. I’ve come to report on today’s achievements.

There’s still a lot of people discriminatin’ the Ghouls.

I mean, part of that’s bein’ caused by Raven members going out and wreaking havoc after Kino’s disappearance.

But...I promise that I’ll definitely convince those dudes as well.

Then one day, I’ll definitely create an equal world for those Ghouls. ...For yer sake as well.

Yui: Yeah. Or else we won’t be able to go on dates in the Demon World, will we?

Yuma: Look who’s talkin’. Ya keep on comin’ with me every now and then even tho ya claim not to be bothered by it.

Monologue

ーー Back then, I am most positive,

that I stabbed myself through the heart.

Still,

I am very much alive right now, as you can see.

However,

not as a human.

While you might be able to escape in death,

that does not make up for one’s committed crimes.

I felt as if somebody was trying to tell me that.

That is why I am still alive to this day.

As a Ghoul ーー burdening my own sins.

Yuma: ...I promise I’ll soon make it so ya can stroll ‘round the Demon World at ease. Wait just a lil’ longer, ‘kay?

Yui: Sure.

( ...But you know, Yuma-kun. I honestly don’t mind things staying the way they are. )

( I have to live with being shunned. I feel as if I deserve no better after the crimes I’ve committed. )

( If I get my happy ending...It won’t make up for what I did. )

( So if one day the Ghouls are liberated. When that happensーー ... )

Yuma: ...What’s wrong?

Yui: No, it’s nothing.

ー The screen fades to black

Yui: ( ーー I might just have to commit a crime once more. )

ーー THE END ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #yuma mukami #lost eden #diabolik lovers translation #leyumaending3

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maxattax · 5 months

Text

Look Away - Chapter 5

Danny paced around his bedroom. He couldn’t believe what Jazz had suggested yesterday. It was dangerous, and Danny wasn’t sure it was worth the risk. Sam thought it was a bad idea, whereas Tucker thought it might work. With his friends divided on the issue, Danny would have to make this decision on his own.

This gamble could cost him everything. But he had a lot to gain from it, too. It all depended on whether Jazz was right about Wes. Her psychological profiles did tend to be frustratingly accurate. But if it didn’t go well…

Danny’s pacing got faster. He cleared the room in three steps, turned around, and did it again. Should he do it? Could he do it? He wrung his hands, his knuckles popping with the movement.

He stopped pacing and took a deep breath in. He let the cool air fill his lungs, and steadily breathed out. He was only going to work himself into a frenzy if he kept going like this.

He needed to trust Jazz. She knew what she was talking about. Sam wouldn’t be happy, but Danny would handle that later. He was going to do this.

—

The next day during lunch, Danny sat with his friends at a picnic table in the school courtyard. The weather was getting chilly, so they were the only people eating outside. Danny loved this time of year; being half ghost, he always ran a little cool, so the crisp Autumn air was perfectly comfortable.

“So, did you do it?” Tucker asked. He shoved a few french fries into his mouth.

“I did,” Danny replied.

“You really think he’s gonna go for it?” said Sam. “He has been trying to ruin your life…” She picked at her salad, spearing a tomato with her fork.

“I hope so,” said Danny. “If I’m wrong, you can say ‘I told you so’.”

“‘I told you so’ won’t change anything if you’re in danger, Danny! You–”

Tucker interrupted with, “He’s coming!”

Wes approached the table, his hands in his pockets. He faced Danny but did not meet his eyes. “Hey Danny, can we talk?”

“Yeah.” Danny gestured to the empty table beside theirs. “Let’s sit here, so we can talk alone.” He hated to leave Tucker and Sam out of this, but he needed to do this alone.

“Okay, sure.” They moved over and took a seat. Wes looked around to make sure there was nobody around to eavesdrop. He had a piece of paper in his hand, and nervously folded and unfolded it while he talked. “So, uh. Danny Phantom left me this note last night. ‘You’re right about that thing you said.’ Does that mean what I think it means?”

Danny closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, Wes was looking him in the eye, waiting. “Yes. You were completely right. But look, you can’t tell anyone, and I mean anyone. Your best friend, your parents… nobody can know.”

“Why not?” Wes shook his head. “I could make something of myself if I go public with this. People will finally know I’m not crazy, that I’m not making things up. Why should I keep it a secret?”

So Jazz was right. All he wanted was respect. “Have you considered that my parents are professional ghost hunters? You’ve seen them shoot at me. I’m living under their roof; who knows what they’d do if they knew?

“That’s not to mention the Red Huntress or the Guys in White. If this gets out, my life is in danger. Do you really want my blood on your hands?” Danny never broke eye contact.

Wes paled. “Oh. I mean, I knew you wouldn’t be happy, but I’m not trying to get you killed – or destroyed, or whatever.”

“Killed,” Danny clarified. “I’m still alive. Kinda. It’s complicated.”

Wes was quiet for a minute. His brow furrowed as he turned his thoughts over in his head. “Okay. I won’t tell anyone,” he finally said. Sincerity was clear in his voice. “Does, uh… does this mean I’m not getting my viewfinder back?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. It’s too dangerous for anyone else to have. And, since it can somehow take pictures of me, my sister convinced me to use it. Keep photos for posterity or something.”

“Oh.” Wes looked like he wanted to protest, but he held his tongue.

After a moment’s silence, Danny said, “Look, for you to have figured out my secret, even with whatever weirdness filter keeps everyone else in the dark, is impressive. You’re a good investigator.” A small smile appeared on Wes’s face. “I’ve been thinking; Team Phantom could use an ally with your skills. What do you say? You keep my secret, and I let you in on some of my adventures? Help me figure out what my enemies are planning? I’ll even let you interview me, as long as my secrets stay off the record.”

Wes leaned his chin on his hand, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “That sounds agreeable. I’ll definitely reach out to you for that interview some time soon.” He pulled a piece of paper from his backpack and scribbled something on it. He offered it to Danny. “My phone number. If anything weird needs investigating, give me a call.”

“You got it. I’m gonna fill in Sam and Tucker. They, and my sister Jazz, are the only people you can talk to about this.”

“Noted. I’ll give you some space.” Danny and Wes stood and went back to their respective tables.

Sam and Tucker looked at Danny, their question evident on their faces.

“He took it surprisingly well,” Danny said. “He seems sincere. I think we can trust him. But oh my God, Jazz is going to be insufferable when she learns she was right.”

Tucker said, “Good job, dude. I’m glad we’ve got another person on our side.”

“I’m still nervous about this. I hope you made the right decision,” said Sam.

“I think I did,” Danny said. “Thank you both for trusting me.”

#danny phantom #ectoimplosion2023 #look away #my writing

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go-to-the-mirror · 1 year

Text

Un-Follow Me Now, This Is Gonna Be The Only Thing I Talk About For The Next Day. I've Been Wanting This For Months Fuck. What The Fuck. /ref

@a-mag-a-day

So, uhm, MAG 136 everybody! As you can probably tell I've been looking forward to this episode, not as much as some others, (cough cough) cul-de-sac (cough cough), but a fair amount of excitement going into this. So, without further ado, let's get on with it! Mostly rambling, but I have great words a lot of the time.

For content warnings, mostly what's in the episode and some pretty frank discussions of suicide and depression. If I need to add or tag anything please let me know.

If I get another gambling ad, I'm going to break something :). Sorry, I keep getting this gambling advert and it's just. Nope, no, 0/10. I had hope it would only be on RQG.

ARCHIVIST (Compelling) If you don’t mind me asking, where are you off to? MELANIE Therapy. Wait … ARCHIVIST Oh, God, Melanie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to … MELANIE It’s fine. I would probably have told you eventually anyway. ARCHIVIST Even so, I shouldn’t— MELANIE Just forget it

I'm glad that although Melanie's obviously -- and to be honest, rightfully, yeah Jon didn't mean to make her tell him that she's going to therapy, he still did and that would make me pretty angry -- upset, she's handling it in a good way, they're not getting in a fight, they're being... amicable. Not friends -- a long way from friends.

DAISY You’re not babysitting me, alright? I know that’s what the others think sometimes, but that’s not it. I just don’t like being on my own if I can help it. You know, flashbacks, panic attacks, the usual. Just trying to avoid it if I can. ARCHIVIST I know, Daisy. I do. It’s hard. DAISY Yeah, well. Don’t let me get in your way. ARCHIVIST Of course.

jon's just grappling with the concept of friendship in the corner like, sure, he was a last resort, but he's spending time with another human and they're not obviously wishing he was dead! yay for that i guess!

also uhm i like how yk, maybe i was just watching bad shows before -- probably -- but it isn't... glossed over. they go through things and they deal with said things, mostly in bad and self destructive ways, like yes the characters suffering and then they have to deal with the suffering and it's all portrayed in a -- in my opinion -- pretty true to life way. People get angry when they're traumatized and under stress, people get suicidal, people do stupid things, people don't trust people -- trust the wrong people -- the works.

*holds gently* p o d c a s t

I loved Neil. I might even have been in love with him; it’s hard to say. When there are so many emotions caught up in a single person, when they’re such a significant force in your life, it gets difficult to say what’s really there at the heart of it.

I'm aro, I thought i was in love with people, I probably wasn't. Love is complicated, discerning what type it is.

Even pyrotechnics, while impressive and visually spectacular, just didn’t give me the same sharp joy as making something that could move, that came alive, directed and controlled by my hand.

Ah, right, so here's the sentence that's like "and this is what fear it is." There's a lot of those, scattered around. What comes to mind are the following lines.

Well, that’s what’s really terrifying, isn’t it? Your mind is all you are. There’s no back-up, no reset if it goes. I’m not just talking about madness as it appears, but what it is from inside. The way people talk about it, it’s like you have to think you’re sane, that our mind is everything we perceive, everything we are. Well, that means you can never know when your grasp might be slipping. I’m not convinced that’s it though. Or maybe deep down, somewhere inside, you understand what’s happening to you and I, um… I don’t know which scares me more.

(MAG 65 - Binary)

This shows that it's The Spiral.

One thing that… eats at me, as it were, and does give me that sick tightness of fear deep in my gut. It is rot. I don’t know why it gets to me so; perhaps it’s precisely because I don’t think there is anything beyond the body, and even dead and unaware, seeing a person’s form begin to putrefy and fester – becoming just a home for the crawling, feasting things – is too much for me. Perhaps it’s just an unaccountable phobia. Regardless of the reason, the fact is that to see the corpses decaying, to see their flesh corrupted, it is… the one part of this job that I find uncomfortable. So much so that I would describe reconstruction and preservation as my favourite part of the process. Making sure the cadaver looks as peaceful and lifelike as possible. Make them the person they were, or as close as they can be while cold and senseless. Fighting off the rot. The insects. The disease.

(MAG 36 - Taken Ill)

And this shows it's The Corruption.

I like it, a little introduction, so you know what you're getting into.

“Besides,” he always told me, “I’m a puppeteer at heart.”

✨ Spooky! ✨

A frugal life, lucrative career and prickly personality had left him with lots of money, but no real support; while my life had left me in a position where I cared deeply about his wellbeing and was in desperate need of money. Everything just lined up so neatly.

this was planned wasn't it, "everything just lined up so neatly," yeah no way it's a coincidence.

I must have asked him about it, but at the time it just seemed like such a natural progression.

This reminds me of some of the stuff in MAG 59 - Recluse.

I’m sure they’d have said the same things about me and at the time nothing seemed amiss. I did what I did because it was what I was supposed to do, and it never struck me to question it. I’m not sure I really recognise who I became while living at that house.

With The Web's control and things seeming fine but then you look back and it's like "yep, definitely not."

He was hanging there, wrapped in his strings like a cocoon, twisting gently around and around and around.

THAT'S AN IMAGE. oh!! OH!! oh boy!!!

She told me to take the films, his original cuts.

The way "original cuts" is said sounds a lot like some of the other tones a few statement givers take -- even Jon sometimes, immediately I can think of in the season 5 trailer. I recognise that tone.

She told me to come here. She told me to give them to you. I resisted for some time, but I’m done now. She’s won. And I would very much like to go home.

I love the way this statement ends, a lot of statements have very cool endings, this one's snazzy, the statement giver sounds so defeated.

ARCHIVIST They were … Well, let’s just say it’s not a complete shock there was something unnatural to them. Didn’t know we had copies in the Institute, though, let alone original cuts. Records indicate they ended up in Artefact Storage. DAISY Probably best they stay there. ARCHIVIST Yeah… Yes, of course.

No! Not best they stay there! Daisy and Jon movie night watching spooky films together! I think that would be fun.

DAISY She’s Web. Spider’s sneaky like that. Like that lighter you’re always using – where’d you get that? ARCHIVIST Hm, good point. We should keep our eyes open. Anyway, how’s Basira doing?

Spooky bloody lighter, god damnit, god damn that spooky lighter.

AAAA. No guys, the lighter isn't messing with his memory, he just has adhd.

DAISY Yeah, well, what do you think? You think I’m weak just cos I’m not already chasing the next kill? You think I’m less me? ARCHIVIST I … I don’t feel like I’m exactly in the best place to judge the intersection between free will and humanity. Still trying to figure that out myself.

✨ t h e m e s ✨ [themes]

I, unsurprisingly, like this. I think, that I like. The exploration of it. I think it's snazzy. It's hard to articulate my thoughts, but I am holding this gently, I am holding the many many themes of this very cool podcast gently. I am directing you to tumblr user annabelle--cane because it's got great brain thoughts.

DAISY Jon … When you went in the coffin, was it you choosing to do that? Did you actually think you could save me or was something telling you to do it? ARCHIVIST It was me. I was drawn to it, I’ll admit, but it was my decision. It wasn’t entirely about you, though. DAISY What was it? ARCHIVIST My— My memories of the coma are not clear, but I know I made a choice. I made a choice to become … something else. Because I was afraid to die. But ever since then, I don’t know if I made the right decision. I’m stronger now, tougher, I can … If I do die, now, or get sealed away somewhere forever, I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. And I don’t want to lose anyone else, so if I can maybe stop that happening and the only danger is to me … I’ll do it in a heartbeat. Worst case scenario, the universe loses another monster. DAISY That’s messed up. ARCHIVIST (Laughs) Yeah. I suppose it is.

I've also heard it described as "if there was a truck coming towards me, I wouldn't move out the way." Maybe not actively seeking it, but definitely not... not seeking it.

Yeah, thinking you're an inherently worse person than everyone around you, is a pretty good way to get you know, suicidal.

Almost everyone you care about thinking -- and saying -- that your very existence is a wrong, that they'd rather you have died, that's going to mess you up. And I'm... I mean like, poor Jon or whatever, I love him, he's my blorbo, but like him living his worst life is compelling and written well.

I should say more, but idk, I think I've summed up Some Thoughts.

ARCHIVIST I guess I thought imprisonment wouldn’t … wouldn’t be as bad as it was. And it’s a lot easier to make that choice than it is to actually endure the result. You might have noticed, when I was in there with you, I had regrets.

fuck dude it sure is, i mean at least he's pretty bad at self-sacrifice, like he lived, didn't get stuck in a coffin forever, no bad outcomes apart from... like... the trauma. he didn't even have to have one awkward conversation. until now, but i feel like him and daisy are more on the "joking about melodramatic notes app notes written while having a breakdown" than "one person who wants to get out of the situation and another who is Concerned."

DAISY You need to stop moping. ARCHIVIST I what?

THIS IS A MOMENT WHERE THE UNNOFFICIAL TRANSCRIPTS ABSOLUTELY WIN. "picture of Edwardian offence" ahsdfsewadfssewa

I mean like yeah it's a little insensitive or whatever, but to be fair, sometimes it's just better to get out of your head, distract yourself, don't listen to sad music while you're down because otherwise you're just going to get more sad. Shout out to crying over a TMA meta while listening to Mitski and reading all my saved TMA metas. Not the exact situation, but let it be known i don't cry over fiction that much. This podcast has made me cry like... how many times at this point?

I'd share other, more specific details, but I'm not sure how much is oversharing, especially with these topics.

DAISY “Boo hoo, I’m so alone and a monster!” ARCHIVIST I am alone. Martin is—

*points* GAY

well, bi. yk.

DAISY Get over yourself. You’re always talking about choices. We all made ours. Now I’m making a choice to get some drinks in. Coming? ARCHIVIST I don’t … Yeah, ok.

ANOTHER PART WHERE THE UNNOFFICIAL TRANSCRIPTS STAY WINNING! "pause while he grapples with the concept of friendship." Like I'm using official because i noticed an error in MAG 119, but the unofficials are funny.

DAISY Melanie’s out, but I’ll go get Basira. ARCHIVIST Is she … Would she want to join us? DAISY If she doesn’t, I’ll rip her throat out. ARCHIVIST Uhhh… DAISY It’s a joke, John. ARCHIVIST (Dubious) Oh, aha. Yes. I’ll get my coat.

HIS STUPID LITTLE LAUGH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

he's just like me fr oh my goddd he's a dumbass he's i want to squish him like one of those toys whose eyes pop out i want to shake him out like a cat aaaaaa

Anyway, Jon fan[redacted]ing over, uhhh more thoughts on the whole bloody... thing he's got going on.

First of all, I mean... passive suicidality sucks. And I think that's what's going on, like he jumped into that coffin, with the knowledge that he might not live, but maybe he will, and does it matter either way. He lives, gets Daisy out, he's useful, he's good. He dies or gets stuck there... well, it's just another monster gone. And of course that's not what he thinks when he's down there, but... I can't back this up with studies, but anecdotally... yeah uh, I mean, sometimes you go "oh shit, maybe doing this nonspecific thing was a bad idea, actually, and you don't want to die."

That... sudden realization of what he's done, what he's condemned himself to, the continuing... you know, he's not exactly okay in season 5, or even later on in season 4 -- what with the dark sun -- and that rings true with me. I can actually back this up with a study, according to this website, (it's reliable, it's Harvard, just search up "attempters' longterm survival" on google, it should be the first result.) 90% of people who attempt suicide don't go on to die by suicide, however 40% of those who have died from suicide (in the US) have previously attempted suicide, and 5 to 11 percent of people hospitalized for a suicide attempt go on to die via suicide, but those who haven't are only 1 in 10,000. Besides, not he's gotten help, he's just realized he made a mistake in one situation, he's talked about it to a friend, sure, but he's still mostly alone, he still mostly thinks he's a monster.

Like... that's not a great situation to be in. Someone give him some actual friends (or a boyfriend) and take all the Panado (acetaminophen) out of his reach.

#tma #the magnus archives #mag 136 #jonathan sims #tma meta #the magnus archives meta #daisy tonner #a mag a day #cw suicide #tw suicide #landscaping your mind chapter one

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lavenderpanic · 5 months

Text

Deleted Scenes from Chapter 10 of I Am Ash From Your Fire

I took a few scenes out because they didn't fit cohesively, so I'm going to post them here. NOTE: These are part of a bigger fic, this is not a standalone fic and will not make sense if you aren't familiar with the rest of the fic, all warnings from Chapter 10 apply to these excerpts.

“Something’s seriously wrong,” Steve sighs exasperatedly, pausing in his pacing just long enough to look at Sam and Natasha. “Wanda said he just… quit. No explanation. She said she could tell Brock was there, instructing him on what to say.”

“What can we do?” Natasha sighs, hugging the pillow cradled to her chest even tighter. “We can’t call the police, obviously, and even if we could, Bucky doesn’t seem to want to leave.”

“He’s obviously being abused, who gives a shit what he says?”

Sam lets out a belabored groan. “Steve, if he says he wants is, that’s it. He’s already on record talking to doctors and social workers saying he consents to whatever Brock does. If they both agree that they want it, there’s not much we can do.”

“We need to get to Bucky,” Natasha says gently. “He needs to realize, without being forced, that he has to leave.”

Steve scoffs lightly, continuing his feverish pace from one side of his apartment to the other. “Yeah, real easy when he’s locked at home all day, no way to contact him. I mean, I’ve seen the shape he’s in after Brock hurts him, how much worse does it have to get before he realizes? I don’t think it can get any worse.”

“He has to leave his apartment at some point,” Sam reasons. “And Brock’s a cop, there must be times he’s out and Bucky’s alone.”

“There’s cameras,” Natasha shakes her head. “He’d recognize us if he saw us, Sam, probably you too, Steve. But you’re right, maybe Bucky does go somewhere during the day.”

Steve’s pacing slows down as he tries to think of places Bucky might go in his free time. “He told me he’s been going to the gym for the past few weeks. And I doubt Brock does his own errands, I bet he goes to the store or the dry cleaners or someplace like that.”

Natasha sighs again. “That won’t give us enough time, though. Even if we can get, what, five minutes alone with him? Nothing we can say in five minutes is gonna make him leave. We’ve been trying to convince him since we’ve known him.”

“So we have nothing. No way to help him, no– no fucking plan?”

“There isn’t just a set of code words to snap him out of it,” Sam says softly. “If he really doesn’t understand that what Brock’s doing is wrong… arguments that sound logical to us aren’t going to change his mind. Most people who leave go back, multiple times. I think the most important thing is that Bucky knows he can leave, that he has somewhere to go, someone to support him, when he does.”

“I can’t just wait around while he’s getting hurt,” Steve whispers. “I was there, in the hospital, I saw the state he was in. He almost died and he still got mad that I called an ambulance. He was literally on the verge of death and Brock was blaming him for passing out. What happens if he has another emergency and he doesn’t have someone to force him to get help?”

“It’s painful,” Natasha agrees. “I see it a lot, with the people who come to the shelter. I watch them go back and get hurt over and over again. But I promise you, the more forceful you are, the less likely they are to come back at all.”

“I know it’s hard,” Sam sighs. “But last time he needed help, he went right to you. That’s a good sign.”

Steve shouldn’t get excited when his phone buzzes anymore. It’ll never be Bucky. It hasn’t been, for weeks. He wouldn’t dare call, he doesn’t want Bucky getting in trouble on his account, but he nearly has about a hundred times. He was satiated, slightly, when Sam told him he saw Bucky at the store. He’s alive, at least, or was last week. It worried him to hear Sam’s recollection of the state he was in– exhausted, bruised up, about what he expected– but any confirmation that he’s alive is enough for Steve.

Even so, even though he knows he shouldn’t still hold onto that hope, he feels his heart pick up when his phone buzzes. The hope deflates when, of course, it isn’t Bucky, but instead an Instagram notification. He clicks on it, really just out of curiosity. He doesn’t do much on Instagram but post his drawings, and he rarely has new people follow him. As soon as he opens the app, a message pops up.

b3cca_barn3s: hey ur buckys friend, right?

rogers070420: Yeah it’s Steve! Is everything alright?

b3cca_barn3s: i was actually kinda hoping u would know. he hasn’t answered anyones calls or texts in forever. hes never ignored me like this. is he ok? :(

rogers070420: I honestly haven’t heard from him either, I’m really sorry. I wish I could help. My friend Sam saw him a couple days ago at the store, but he hasn’t called or anything.

b3cca_barn3s: oh :( ty anyway. plz lmk if he texts u

rogers070420: I will! Let me know if there’s anything else I can help with

#i am ash from your fire #iaafyf #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction

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winniethewife · 4 months

Text

You could call me babe for the weekend (William Tell X reader)

Warning: Slight Angst, Alcohol consumption, Past cheating

Words: 841

William hadn’t been back to his home town in a very long time, there was no reason to, Nobody lived there, Nobody who cared was alive these days, but He was drawn there as the Christmas season grew close that year, he figured he could at least spend a day there then move on to the city. What he didn’t expect was to find her there. His high school Sweetheart, He swore she looked even more beautiful. Maybe it was the alcohol, Maybe it was the low lighting in the crappy bar. They had been talking for a while.

“You haven’t asked what I’ve been up to, or any of the other ‘its been a really long time’ questions that seem to come with these sorts of reunions” William noted before taking a sip of his drink.

“If I thought you would tell me the truth or cared to know I would have asked you, but…I don’t” She says frankly.

“You think I’d lie to you?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“You hardly ever tell the truth, you didn’t when you cheated on me, you didn’t when you left town, if it's all the same to you I think I’ll just make up a story In my head of what you’re up to, or whatever life you lead.” Her words sting but she’s not wrong, he was never honest when he was young, especially to her.

“It's the same to me. I’m sure whatever you come up with is better than reality anyway, you we’re always more creative than me.” He looks at her. He was an idiot to choose anyone over her. In another life, they would have been happy. In another life, He would have been as good to her as she was to him. “You ever think about…what was?”

“Yeah…Often. You know, the road not taken looks real good when everything has gone to shit.” She admits to him as she finished her drink.

“Remember how you watched me leave? We had already Broken up, but you still showed up when they shipped me off to basic…You were crying.”

“I was totally convinced you were going to propose, not break up.”

“Even with all the horrible things I did... you still wanted my last name.” He chuckles

“I was young, and afraid. I thought you’d die out there. I couldn’t bare it.” She laughs as well.

“but I didn’t…are you glad? Or has age made you bitter?” William couldn’t tell her how badly he’d wished he was dead, how much he had wanted it to all end.

“Eh…it's okay with me.” She smirked “Age hasn’t made me bitter about that. Just bitter about everything else.” They talked for a while longer before they started to leave the bar, his hand on her lower back as they left, it seemed almost natural.

“I'm stayin' at my parents' house…If you want to catch up more…” She says casually like it doesn’t mean anything. But he knows that look, the same one that was on her face all those years ago, the one begging him not to leave. He pulls her in so she’s pressed against his chest. He looks at her, his eyes filled with longing.

“Every day, I'm missing your smile, I close my eyes and I’m thinking about it. I’m thinking about you.” He whispers as he leans in closer to her. “Can I take you home? Just for old times' sake…” He wants to kiss her. She just might let him. She smiles at him.

“Okay, take me home, Prince Charming.” She teases. He smiles, the first Genuine smile he’s given in a long time. He drives her down familiar streets and as they arrive to her childhood home he parks on the street and steps out of the car, helping her out of the car, and they make it to her door. He takes her into his arms again, like it would be the last time, like he’d never have another chance.

“Come inside… I’ll sneak you up to my bedroom, just like we used to…I'll be yours for the weekend” She closes the distance between them, standing on tip toe to press her lips against his. She knows it’ll end in heartbreak, it always does, but she’s never gotten over him, she’s never been able to love anyone like she loved him. He pulls away after a moment.

“Are you sure…I…I’m not who I used to be…you know that.” His hand on her cheek as he gazes into her eyes, He’s unsure. How could she love him now? With who he is, what he’s done.

“I know…but…Whenever I think of how I wish my life went, what I would change if I could go back…It always leads to you in my hometown…” She’s entirely sincere, and he submits, it’s always been her. It’s always been the two of them despite it all. As they slip inside, William couldn’t help but think.

In another life…She would have asked him to stay, and he would have.

Series Masterlist

#x reader #taylor swift #evermore #Spotify #william tell #tis the damn season #the card counter #william tell x reader #tw alcohol #tw alchohol mention #slight angst #oscar isaac #fan fiction

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theresthesnitch · 2 years

Text

What we do to get by, Part 8

Read the rest here!

*** Sirius was again watching for Remus everywhere he went. On corners, in parks. In the hospital, in the nightclub, in the grocery store. In the hallway leading up to his door, in his kitchen, in his bedroom. Remus was somehow everywhere at once and nowhere to be found.

Sirius felt like he was in fifth year all over again.

He had done what Dorcas said. He had left the door open for Remus to come back as wide as he could, and yet Remus wasn’t here.

Except in his mind and in his heart and in whispers and gasps on his lips when he was alone at night. Sirius could always trust Remus to be there.

Weeks passed by, and there was no sign of him. The weather turned cold, and all Sirius could think was about Remus outside, alone. He had always been cold by nature, wearing cardigans and sweaters even while the rest of them were sweating from the heat of spring. Remus would tuck his toes under Sirius’s legs on the couch in the common room, bundled in thick knit socks and somehow still cold as ice. Or he would press his cold fingers to the skin of his neck or the soft flesh of Sirius’s back where his shirt rode up, and Sirius would jump at the cold and somehow feel the burn of his touch on that delicate skin for hours after.

How was Remus possibly surviving the cold if he couldn’t climb into bed with Sirius and press his nose into the space between his shoulder blades in the early hours of the morning when the heating charms were in need of refreshing, the way they always did at Hogwarts.

The weather was cold, and Remus was out in it.

Sirius could do nothing but wait.

***

Sirius started to notice signs that Remus had been around.

A teacup in the sink or on the drying board that hadn’t been there when he left for work. The bag of sliced bread closed a bit different than Sirius would close it. The smell of something that wasn’t quite Remus and definitely was not Sirius or James or Lily or anyone else who might have come into his flat.

It made Sirius smile, honestly, just knowing that Remus was around. He suspected that Remus was specifically waiting until he left, avoiding him as much as he could while also using the room that Sirius had declared his. It was fine–it really wasn’t, but he told himself it was. Remus was alive, still out there, but alive.

For now, that was enough.

***

One evening, Sirius came home after a shift that ran a few hours over, and he was exhausted. He grabbed a sandwich from the shop at the corner because all he wanted was to come home and go to sleep. He walked into his house, slipped off his shoes by the door, and headed into the kitchen to grab a plate for his dinner.

Sirius reached into the cabinet when the door opened. He knew without checking that it was Remus, and that he was hesitating by the door. Sirius walked around the corner, plastering a smile on his face, and looked at Remus, who was just barely in the door. His face fell when he saw Sirius, and Sirius tried not to take it personally.

“Hey, Remus. It’s been a while.”

Remus came a little farther in the door, though not really inside. “Yeah, uh. Sorry. I thought you’d be at work.” I didn’t want to see you now either. Sirius could hear it implicitly behind his words.

Remus was here and seemed to be ready to turn around and leave just because he saw Sirius was home. Sirius couldn’t let him go. “Well, you’re not wrong, just a bit early. I’m actually headed out to work.”

Remus perked up a bit at that. Sirius tried not to take offense. “Oh, are you?”

Sirius nodded. “I actually had an extra sandwich from dinner that I will probably end up tossing by the time I get home. Do you want it?”

“Oh, um. I mean, if you’re not going to eat it.”

Sirius shook his head and slid his shoes on. “Nah. Bought too much. Thought I was hungrier than I was.”

“Okay then, thanks.” Remus ran a hand through his hair. “When will you be back?”

Sirius paused with his hand on the door handle. “I get off at 10 am, but I might go have lunch with James. Do you want to go?”

“Oh, no. Thank you, but, uh–” Sirius waited for whatever lie Remus was going to tell “–I have somewhere to be. At 9 am. So I’ll be busy.”

Sirius shrugged. “Alright, maybe next time.”

Sirius walked out of the door and apparated to Godric’s Hollow, then knocked on the door. Lily opened it, looking surprised to see him, and James walked in just behind her. “Sirius? I thought you were going straight home to sleep after that shift.”

Sirius ran a hand over his face. “Remus just showed up at my place. He looked like he was ready to walk out when he saw I was home, so I told him I was leaving for work.” James and Lily exchanged a look that Sirius was too tired to try to interpret. “I know, but you should have seen him. Can I–Can I just stay tonight? I’ll go home tomorrow, but maybe he’ll stay the night if I’m not there.”

James reached out to grab his shoulder. “Come in, mate. I made shepherd's pie tonight. Do you want some?”

“That’d be ace, thanks.” Sirius slipped off his shoes and coat as he walked in.

Lily followed the two of them back inside. “I thought you were going to grab one of those sandwiches at that shop by yours.”

Sirius laughed, but there was no humor behind it. “I did, and then I gave it to Remus.”

James rubbed his shoulders as they walked to the kitchen. “You’re a good man, Padfoot. Let’s eat.”

The next day, when Sirius went home again, he was unsurprised to find Remus was gone. That didn’t stop the pang in his chest, though.

***

There were a few more times that Sirius saw Remus in passing as he was coming to and from work, and once or twice where Sirius made up an excuse as to why he wasn’t going to be around so that Remus would stay anyway. The next day, he usually found a wet towel and rumpled sheets as the only evidence that Remus had, in fact, stayed.

It wasn’t nearly enough, but sometimes Remus would smile at him as he walked out of the flat, and that was more than he felt the right to hope for.

***

It was one particularly snowy day, and Sirius was staring out the window with a mug of tea in his hands. His mind was wandering as he watched the snow slowly accumulate in the corners of the glass panes when he heard the door open. His wand slipped into his hand–an old habit–but he managed to keep his spot by the window.

The door creaked open, and Remus stuck his head in.

Sirius let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, though he couldn’t say how long he’d been holding, possibly the entire time since he last saw Remus. Immediately, however, he felt himself on edge again when Remus saw him. Sirius was clearly in for the night, and he hoped Remus would stay anyway.

“Oh.” Remus slid inside and shut the door behind him. “I’d hoped you would be at work.”

“Not tonight.” Sirius held the mug closer to himself. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“No, that’s not–” Remus pulled a knit cap off of his head, scratching the short hair there. “I was actually just hoping to come take a look at your textbooks. There was a spell I saw in one last time that I could use.” As if by way of explanation, Remus turned to show him the hole that was ripped in the back of his coat.

Sirius knew the spell, could have cast the spell quickly and easily, but he suspected that wouldn’t go over well. Plus, if Remus came in to look at the books himself, it was that much longer that he was inside, in the warmth of the flat, rather than outside in the cold.

Sirius stood up. “Come on, then.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. I can find it myself.”

Sirius smiled. “The books aren’t out anymore. I’ll have to grab them.” He walked down the hallway, glancing back to see Remus still standing by the door. “Leave your shoes there, and you can take your coat off if you want.”

Sirius forced himself not to look back as he walked to his room and pulled open the closet. He acted as though Remus would obviously follow him, when Sirius figured there was about a 75% chance that Remus would turn around and walk right back out the door.

He didn’t.

A few minutes later, Remus walked into his bedroom without his coat (though Sirius was fairly certain he was wearing several layers of jumpers underneath) and in nearly worn-out woolen socks. Sirius was digging through his trunk, and glanced over his shoulder. “You can sit on the bed if you want.”

Remus looked down at the bed and then shook his head. “I’m–I haven’t showered in a while, and I’d hate to get your bed dirty.”

Sirius straightened up and turned to look at him. “Do you want to take a shower?”

Remus glanced at the door to the bathroom, chewing his lip and considering it. He shook his head. “No, I’m alright. I’ll just grab the spell and be on my way. I’m fine.”

Sirius hummed digging through his books like he needed a minute to find them. The book was right on top, but Sirius needed time. “It’ll take me a bit to find this. Why don’t you go shower?”

“I–” Remus looked over his shoulder again toward the bathroom. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

“I’m sure, Remus. Go have a shower. Or a bath. I bet it will feel good to have a soak.”

Remus scratched at his head, considering. Sirius waited, doing his best not to press Remus, but just to wait while he considered. Remus may have been living on the streets for a few years, but Sirius was certain that the boy who secretly loved a bubble bath and woke up in the middle of the night once a week through fourth year to sneak off to have one still existed somewhere in Remus.

“I–I really shouldn’t.”

“Alright, if you want.” Sirius went back to digging through the books in his trunk and ignoring the book he needed. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”

Remus bit his lip. “I have to get to Clapham by eight to get a bed for the night.”

Sirius looked at him with furrowed brows. “That’s across town, Remus. You’ll never make it.”

“I might.” He was toying with his fingers, and Sirius could tell that he knew he wouldn’t make it as well.

“Nonsense. Stay here.” Sirius grabbed the book finally and handed it to Remus. “Have a bath, we can wash your clothes and patch your coat, and tomorrow you can start off fresh.”

“Sirius, I can’t–”

“I was just going to order some food.” A lie. Sirius had eaten earlier. “There’s a place down the street that does great falafel. Have you had it?” He didn’t give him a chance to respond. “We’ll order some of that, and some of the lamb and chicken. You’ll love it. I’ll be right back.” Sirius grabbed his keys and walked out the door without a glance back at Remus. He hoped, wished, that Remus would stay because Sirius had already left to order food.

When Remus didn’t follow him out, he let out another breath. He had always felt like Remus made it hard to breathe, but this was getting ridiculous.

“James Potter.” He spoke the name before the mirror even made it into his hand, and James appeared quickly.

“What’s up, Padfoot?”

“He’s here.”

James’s face lit up, and Sirius realized that maybe James was holding his breath too. “That’s fantastic! Is he staying? Does he need anything? Can we bring anything over? Maybe Lily and I could grab food–”

“Prongs, it’s okay.” Sirius took a deep breath, and watched James follow as he exhaled. “I’m going to order food now. I’m hoping he’s getting in the bathtub–”

“That would be great; Moony loves baths.”

“–then he’ll eat some food and I’m hoping he’ll stay. I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“So you don’t want us to come over.” James didn’t sound disappointed, and he mostly didn’t look it, but Sirius could see the slight dip in his eyebrow that was where James couldn’t mask his disappointment.

“I’m sorry, mate. I just wanted to let you know he was safe tonight.”

James sighed. “I appreciate that. I really do. Take care of him for me? And, if it’s not too much, tell him I miss him and that I say hi.”

“I will. I promise, James.”

James put back his mega-lumos smile. “Great. Well, call me tomorrow for an update. You know how much I hate getting updates through Lily.”

***

Sirius walked back into the flat after ordering food and heard the bath running. He smiled and walked back to his room, sorting out a pair of soft joggers, a tshirt, and the jumper that Remus had left at Hogwarts. He carried them in a neat pile and walked toward the bathroom, knocking on the door.

“Remus? Can I come in?”

Sirius walked in after hearing Remus’s assent, nearly jumping back out the door when he saw Remus. He certainly hadn’t expected to find Remus stark naked and bending over to check the temperature of the bathtub. Sirius pointedly looks away. “Um, I brought you some clean clothes. I thought I could take yours and start the laundry charms on them.”

"Oh, sure." Remus grabbed his clothes and handed them to Sirius before turning back to slip into the water. Sirius was left standing there, just completely surprised by Remus’s action. Remus settled back into the bathtub and looked over at Sirius, registering Sirius’s hesitation. “What?”

Sirius shook his head. “Nothing. I just– I guess I expected you to be more um–modest?”

Remus looked down at himself as though suddenly registering that he was, in fact, naked. He made no effort to cover up. “Oh, I uh–” Remus sighed. “I didn’t notice, I guess.”

Sirius furrowed his brows. “You didn’t notice?”

“I just got used to people looking at me without clothes.” Remus shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

Sirius furrowed his brow, but didn’t push. “I’ll take these and get them washed.”

The idea of Remus being naked and it not being a big deal was so incongruous with the Remus he remembered from Hogwarts. For a year and a half, Remus tried to never be naked around them. He would change in the locked bathroom and behind shower curtains, and always wore long sleeves and Hogwarts jumpers, even when he was far too warm. They didn’t actually see more skin than his face and hands until after they’d discovered his secret, and even then, he was hesitant about it. In fact, the more Sirius thought about it, the more he realized that he had never seen Remus fully unclothed until tonight. Even after the full moons, Remus always hid away when the change came and asked them to give him privacy.

Now it was like privacy was a luxury he had given up and forgotten about.

Sirius cast spells over the clothes in a bucket of water, letting the magic wash and scrub them clean. He made tea, grabbed plates and flatware, and generally fiddled around the apartment, all too aware that Remus was in his bathroom naked, until the food arrived. He grabbed the large containers from the delivery person, setting them on the table so that Remus could see and grab what he wanted. Sirius cast a warming charm over it and waited.

***

When Remus came out of the bathroom, it was with Sirius’s pajama trousers rolled up so that they only just barely dragged the floor and the towel draped across his shoulders. His chest was still bare, and Sirius tried to ignore it. Remus’s hair looked towel-dried, but there were still loose curls that clung to the side of his face from the water. Sirius wanted to reach out and trace it, but he didn’t.

Remus looked down at the ground when he saw Sirius. “Sorry, I hope you weren’t waiting too long. I kind of lost track of time.”

“No, not long at all.” That was a lie. The food had arrived nearly an hour ago, and Sirius had refreshed the warming charm several times. He didn’t mind, though, if it meant that Remus was comfortable here, then he’d refresh the charm a dozen more times. “Ready to eat?”

Remus nodded, and after trading his towel for the jumper, joined Sirius at the table. “I can’t believe you kept this thing.”

Sirius shrugged. “I didn’t want to throw your jumper away. It’s a really nice one.”

Remus smiled, softly. “You gave it to me for Christmas, do you remember?”

As if Sirius could forget. He hesitated a moment before answering, covering by scooping food onto their plates, not entirely sure how to respond. He’d so meticulously picked out the jumper that year, looking for something Remus would enjoy but that would also look great on him, and the softness hadn’t hurt for cuddling potential. “Yeah, I remember. You put it on, and I told you that it brought out the gold in your eyes. You were so sad to have to take it off to go down to the Shack.”

“I didn’t want to give up my present so soon.” Remus sighed. “That was a really great Christmas.”

Sirius couldn’t help but smile. “It’s one of my favorites. We stayed at Hogwarts that year, all of us, and had absolute run of the place.”

Remus snorted as he picked up a pita. “We always had run of that place.”

“Yeah, but it was better when it was all four of us and no one else.” Sirius dipped his bread in the humus. “We were the only ones in the tower.”

Remus laughed, honest to Merlin laughter. “Remember when James figured out we could fly his broom to the top of the girl’s staircase and slide down the stairs?”

Sirius smiled at the memory. “It was all well and fine until Peter left the broom up there.”

“He went back and got it!”

“He was the only one who could.” Sirius took another bite of food. “I’ll never forget that balancing act of trying to walk along the handrail as a rat so that he could actually go up the stairs.”

“And then he fell and slid the whole way back down from a few feet away from the top.”

They dissolved into laughter, and Sirius was lost in the way that Remus’s eyes crinkled at the side when he threw his head back, and the delicate curve of his throat, and the way his tongue wet his lips as he calmed down.

Merlin, Sirius was still so gone for him.

Remus took a drink of his tea, and when he set it back down, all of the humor was gone from his face.

“Why did you do it?”

Sirius knew what he meant. He had been expecting this question since Remus had shown back up. He still wasn’t prepared for it. “What’s that?”

Remus gave him a look that suggested he knew exactly what Sirius was doing, buying time with the question. “Why did you tell Snape? I’ve always wondered what the reason was. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it, and I just don’t understand. I never saw this coming.”

Sirius folded his hands in his lap, looking down at his knuckles. “I don’t have a good reason for it.”

Remus gave a little huff of breath, a little derisive laugh. “I’d assumed that much. I’m not sure there is a good reason for it.”

Sirius sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I can give you excuses, but they don’t amount to much. The reason is that I was stupid and thoughtless.” He looked at Remus, who was now toying with his fork. Sirius could tell that it wasn’t enough of an explanation. He tried again. “It was just–just a shit day. A shit week. I’d been fighting with my parents, who were trying to make Regulus an intermediary. And, um–” Sirius took a deep breath, bracing himself “–that morning, I received a letter from my parents. They’d arranged a marriage for me, and told me that I was to come home that summer and buckle down. Step into the role of the Black Heir and give up all this nonsense.”

Remus’s eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t know that.”

“I didn’t tell anyone.” Sirius tucked a bit of hair behind his ear. “I didn’t want to tell anyone. So I was walking through the corridor, with that letter burning a hole in my pocket, and Sniv–” Remus glared at him “–Snape came up and started just digging in. I guess he had heard that I was going to be betrothed, or whatever. He was saying that I was a disappointment and how my parents should just disown me and let Reg have the family name, and how I was just going to end up disappointing that poor girl as well. Then, he switched to you and how you were looking ill. Said he knew you were a werewolf and he was just going to prove it. I just–I just snapped.”

“Snapped?” Remus’s voice was small, and Sirius knew he had to keep going, that maybe they could clear the air if he just… just finished.

“I snapped. I didn’t mean for him to go down there. I told him that if he was so sure that he wanted to face down a werewolf, maybe he should see what’s under the Whomping Willow. He laughed, said he wasn’t going to fall for that and end up in the hospital wing because of a crazy tree. And I said–” he couldn’t speak past the block in his throat.

“You said?” Remus’s face was blank, unreadable.

“I said, ‘Of course you’re not clever enough to figure out that the knot on the tree isn’t decorative.’”

“You challenged him.”

Sirius nodded. “I honestly didn’t mean to, he was just– he knew what buttons to push, and he did until… well, until I–”

“Snapped.” Remus wasn’t looking at Sirius now. He was fiddling with his fork again. “So it wasn’t–” Remus stopped, and took several deep breaths. Sirius held his. “It wasn’t to get back at me?”

Sirius’s heart had been beating so hard through the whole conversation that he was sure that Remus could hear it, but when Remus said that? Sirius’s heart stopped, ripped completely out of his chest and thrown out like trash. “What? No, absolutely not, Remus. Why? Why would you think that?”

Remus still wouldn’t look at him, and Sirius watched as his tongue trailed over his lip, snagging on a bit of dry skin. “I had just kissed you, and then you never said anything about it. I thought, maybe, you were disgusted with me, or–”

“Remus, no.” Sirius couldn’t think. “Remus, that’s not even a little bit of it. I–I kissed you, and I thought we should wait until after the full moon to talk about it. I thought you knew that. I thought you wanted to wait too, and– and I was so excited to–” Sirius took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. “I wanted to kiss you then, and it wasn’t punishment or payback, or whatever you’ve convinced yourself it was.”

Remus nodded, but he said nothing. Sirius didn’t try to break the silence, but let it hang around them. He couldn’t tell if the air was clearer now, or if it still hung thick with the uncertainty.

When they finished eating, Sirius got Remus’s newly cleaned clothes for him, and he changed in the second bedroom. He gathered up his things, and slipped his shoes on by the door.

“You can stay the night, if you want.” It wasn’t the first time that Sirius had offered, but he couldn’t let Remus leave without at least trying again.

“No, Sirius. I can’t.” Remus looked up at him then, and he could see the weight of their discussion still evident in his eyes.

Sirius nodded, and bit his lip. Remus stood up and opened the door. He had one foot out the door when Sirius spoke up again. “Remus! Will you be back?”

Remus turned to look at him again, and Sirius could feel him weighing the options. The pros and cons. How much it would cost him to say yes. Then, he saw the resolve in his eyes. “Yes, I will.”

When the door closed behind him, Sirius’s face broke into a genuine smile. The first he’d felt in a long time.

#what we do to get by #wolfstar #wolfstar angst #remus lupin #sirius black #what if the remus was expelled after the prank #snitchwrites

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aeoki · 6 months

Text

Sandstorm - Desert Survival: Chapter 10

Location: Oasis Hotel Characters: Hinata & Kaoru

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< That night. Tottori desert, “Oasis No.112” hotel room. >

Kaoru: Haa~ It’s so cool~! I’m coming back alive~♪ Only ‘Cause I’m “UNDEAD”, just kidding!

Hinata: …………

Kaoru: Oh, did I sound like an old man just now? Oh gosh, I constantly had to entertain people a while back, so I guess the aftereffects are showing!

Hinata: Looks like “RhyLin” has it tough~... For us, things seem to work itself out as long as we curry the favour of our vice president.

Kaoru: Say what~? It actually makes me even more stressed trying to figure out what that kinda person’s intentions are, though.

The veterans (old men) in RhyLin are pretty simple-minded, so they’re pretty easy once you get used to handling them.

Anyway, we’ll call it a night here. Let’s have some good, shower and go to bed. You’re fine with us sharing a room, right?

Hinata: Of course! We share the same room at Seisou Hall, so I’m used to it and it’s cheaper in terms of “Desert Coins” if we stayed together too~

There’s no one around at this time so there’s no point in wandering in the desert, anyway. So that just leaves one option: resting our bodies in a cool place.

Kaoru: The battles won’t trigger, huh. It looks like everyone was holed up in “Oasis” in the afternoon too, so we didn’t get to meet that many people.

Which means our battles will take place in the future… when everyone has mostly used up their “Desert Coins”.

Once they’ve used up the “Desert Coins” they currently have, they’ll definitely want to battle and earn more coins in order to stay in a comfortable environment.

Hinata: We don’t know how long “SDS” will be going on for too.

They might even make a run for it at this rate, so we might have to seek out those battles ourselves tomorrow.

Kaoru: Then, it’ll be better to search within “Oasis” instead of wandering aimlessly in the desert.

It seems battles can trigger in “Oasis”, so all we have to do is trigger battles with the people who are holed up in here.

Hinata: Yeah. They probably think “Oasis” is 100% safe, so let’s attack them while they have their guard down.

That way, our victory will be certain. Because, unlike the other idols, there’s two of us…

…………

Kaoru: ? What’s wrong, Hinata-kun? Does your stomach hurt or something?

Hinata: No, it’s nothing. I said something “2wink”-ish and started missing Yuuta-kun. I wonder what he’s up to right now. Is he eating his meals properly?

Kaoru: I think he’s somewhere safe. They said the only ones thrown out into the desert were the idols who represented their unit.

“UNDEAD” and “2wink” were on the same bus, so it’s highly likely they’re still together right now. If that’s the case, then I’m sure our members will protect Yuuta-kun.

Unlike me, the rest of “UNDEAD” are very caring and helpful.

Hinata: No, I think you’re pretty caring too, Hakaze-senpai. You didn’t have that impression before, though~ When did you turn out like this?

Kaoru: I wonder about that myself~... I’m supposed to be the character who doesn’t care about anyone else but himself.

It’s fine though. I’m not stressed about how to live that way right now.

In fact, I think pretending to be someone bad made it even harder on myself.

Hinata: …………

Kaoru: ? What’s wrong, Hinata-kun? Does your stomach really hurt…?

Hinata: Oh, no. I’m feeling perfectly fine. I’m used to harsh conditions.

Anyway, look at this, Hakaze-senpai.

Kaoru: ………?

Hinata: Look, there was a suspicious laptop on the desk, so I tried powering it up to see what would happen.

But it connected to what I think is a video site~?

Kaoru: Video…? Hmm, is it for us to use in case we get bored or something?

What sort of videos are uploaded there? Anything interesting?

Hinata: Well…

Huh? What’s this?

What the heck is this? They’ve used “2wink’s” name but it’s a video of Yuuta-kun and “UNDEAD” singing!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂ Next Chapter →

#sandstorm

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merlinsbudgiesmugglers · 2 years

Note

Prompt: Ron wakes up post poisoning to see Hermione sitting beside his hospital bed.

I'm actually really happy you suggested Ron & Hermione. I've never written them before but this was a really fun dynamic and helped me get out of my head!

I did take a bit of license and set it a few days after he had been poisoned, but I hope you enjoy it! ----

Ron woke slowly, eyes still closed as he enjoyed the sun shining through the windows of the hospital wing onto his bed. He was contemplating whether he should wake up properly, or try to get a bit more sleep before Madam Pomfrey came by with all the potions she had him taking when he heard someone besides him.

He froze, thinking it might be Lavender. But if it was her she would have said something by now. Or she might have thought he’d fallen back asleep, though that hadn’t stopped her from talking on and on yesterday even while he put on a show of yawning and pretending to nod off. She just kept yammering on and on.

“Lavender’s not here.”

His eyes flew open and couldn’t help the sheepish grin that crossed his face when he saw Hermione. She was sitting on a chair beside his bed, but it wasn’t one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs that were spread throughout the hospital wing. She had transfigured it to an elegant, high back armchair that she was currently curled up on with a ridiculously large book on her lap.

“No idea what you mean.” He said. “Hm.” She clearly didn’t believe him, but Ron was sure he saw a hint of amusement as she went back to her book. He rolled over so he was facing her properly and he could get a proper look at her. He didn’t often get a chance to watch her like this. She was focused on her book, her eyelashes fluttering as she read along each line. Her hair was wild and curly like usual, but in the morning sun he could see golden strands shimmering everytime she moved.

She looked so settled, Ron wondered how long she’d been in that spot.

“You’re here early.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.” Had she been worried about him?

“So you decided to come here to watch me sleep instead?” Hermione’s cheeks tinged pink and she turned the page before she replied.

“Someone has to supervise you, look what happens when you’re left to your own devices.”

“Ah, that’s why you’ve stuck around all these years.” “Who else is going to keep the two of you alive?” Ron’s bark of laughter caused her to look up, a pleased smile on her face. They stayed like that for a moment, smiling at each other for a moment before she looked away.

He’d missed her in the weeks they hadn’t been talking. All Lavender wanted to do was snog and gossip about other people in their year, and Harry was always distracted by something else these days. It had felt wrong, avoiding her in the common room. To not sit together after Harry had gone to bed, Hermione reading some incomprehensible textbook while Ron hurried through some homework he had left too late.

“What are you reading?” She huffed softly at the interruption and Ron grinned. It had been too long since he had been able to bother her like this. “Deciphering the Undecipherable: Applications in Advanced Arithmancy.” “Bloody hell.” He moaned. “Couldn’t you have brought something more interesting?” “It is interesting! I’ve told you before that you should have taken Arithmancy instead of Divination, it’s a much more sensible way of looking at destiny and our connection to the world.”

“More sensible than prophecies?” He asked, grinning when Hermione tutted at him. “Go on then, read me some.” She looked surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah, prove to me why Arithmancy is better than Divination.”

The pleased smile appeared on her face again and Ron settled into his pillows as she began reading. “Human civilisation is a record of the history of achievement. Whether we pursue achievement in the form of material success, loving relationships…”

Watching her here in the early morning sun, Ron couldn’t help but think that being poisoned wasn’t so bad if it meant Hermione was speaking with him again.

#my writing #romione #hp fanfic #romione ficlet

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roachclit · 2 years

Note

hi ! Sorry if that's weird to ask this, but I honestly don't know who to talk to about this .

Okay, so I saw in your bio that you're an ex nb. I've identified as a trans guy for like, 5 years, and decided to detransition because I don't agree with all this and want to live as a woman. However I still have dysphoria and it's very hard for me. I don't know what to do, what is normal, I'm kinda Lost and not sure if what I'm doing is good or bad.

How did you do ? How did you live this yourself, and do you have any advices ?

So yeah. Thanks for reading .

Hi anon! First off I’d like to clarify that I’m desisted, not detrans, meaning that I never made any permanent changes to my body. So my answer will be coming from that perspective.

I wouldn’t call your decision “good” or “bad.” I don’t think morality has anything to do with the decisions you made. You weren’t bad for identifying as a trans man, and you’re not bad now for reconnecting with your womanhood. You’ve just had a major shift in your worldview and your view of yourself, so things probably feel really scary and uncertain right now. In times like this when your foundation feels shaky, I think one of the best things you can do for yourself is build a community of support. And when I say community, I don’t mean in the way that many trans circles view community, where everyone has to have the exact same opinions. Something that I’ve noticed since joining radblr is the attitude that we’re all learning and it’s ok to be wrong. It’s ok to question things. It’s ok to struggle with perceiving yourself as a woman and a lot of us are here for that exact reason.

Reidentifying as a woman took a long time for me. I kept bouncing back and forth between woman and non-binary/transmasc, second guessing myself over and over. I hadn’t called myself a woman in five years, and it felt like such an alien word to me. This might sound cheesy, but I really did have to say to myself, out loud, “I am a woman,” for it to really sink in. I’ve been desisted for almost two years and it still feels strange to say sometimes.

What really helped me during this time of uncertainty was centering women in my life in as many ways as possible. I read books by female authors, listened to female musicians, looked at art by female artists, and tried to interact with only women as much as I possibly could. And what I discovered was that women could be anything. There was no right way to do it. You could be the most grizzled, masculine, hairy woman alive, and it wouldn’t make you any less female. I looked at photos of butch women and fell in love. I used to hate the way my breasts and hips looked in men’s clothes, but seeing butches just existing with their undeniably female bodies, while presenting however the hell they wanted, was a huge source of inspiration for me. I couldn’t possibly hate myself for having the same qualities that these women possessed. I discovered self love through my love of other women.

Physical activity was also important in alleviating my dysphoria because it helped me reconnect with my body. Dysphoria is perceived as a disconnect between the mind and the body, but this mind-body dualism is a fallacy. Your body is not just a vessel for your mind, it’s not a meat puppet that you pilot like a robot. You don’t just own your body, you are your body. Lifting weights, hiking, practicing yoga, doing activities that made me feel strong and capable - these all helped me appreciate my body for what it was. Instead of dissociating from my body, I felt grounded and present. I started to accept that my body is me, and I can’t run away from myself.

It was also critical for me to learn about the experiences of other detrans and desisted women. I think the first detrans person I listened to was Elle Palmer on YouTube. This was back when I still identified as nb but was starting to have some doubts. I was on a waitlist for top surgery and in the process of getting prescribed testosterone, and it finally truly hit me that I was planning to change my body permanently. I felt like I needed to examine my desire to transition more deeply before I committed to it. I honestly can’t remember how I stumbled upon Elle’s channel, but I’m so glad I did. She was insightful and kind and, most importantly, learning how to forgive herself. I’m linking one of her videos here because I think you might need to hear it. She was a great source of comfort for me in times of uncertainty.

https://youtu.be/E6US5tpfKvQ

youtube

I realized that having dysphoria didn’t make me less of a woman, any more than it did for her or any other detransitioner or desister I came across. Redefining my dysphoria as a female issue, rather than a trans issue, helped me feel more solidarity with other women. Trans people told me I had to change my body to be happy, but these women learned how to make peace with their bodies despite wanting to escape them. I don’t think any woman feels completely at home in her body under patriarchy, and that’s something that everyone female has in common, trans or not.

I think it’s important for you to talk about this to as many other women as you can. I’m really glad that you reached out to me, but keep in mind that I’m just one person, I’m not even detrans, and my experience is probably quite different from yours. I’m mutuals with a handful of detransitioners and desisters who all have their own unique perspectives, and hopefully some of their experiences will resonate with you. Some blogs I can recommend off the top of my head are @testosteronebutch @macroclit @riverxdaughter @swag-fem @shedwarf @annielesterf and there are so many more out there! You’re not alone in feeling this way, and you should be proud of yourself for finding the strength to reclaim your womanhood despite your dysphoria. It’s not going to be easy, but with time, support, and self-compassion, it will get better. You will feel like you’ve come out of hiding and returned to yourself, and that’s an incredibly powerful feeling. I wish you luck on your journey anon ❤️

#I’m sorry this got super long #if there’s anything I’ve neglected to explain pls don’t be afraid to shoot me another message!#but also don’t be afraid to send messages to others #I hope you find the answers you’re seeking #ask

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ruby1redfort · 2 years

Text

I'll always be there for you

“See ya later, Clance,” Ruby calls as she gets on her bike and starts to head home.

“See ya later, Rube.” Clancy calls back, looking out the window watching her ride off. If only he had stayed at the window a little longer; then maybe we would be here for a different story today.

Halfway home, she feels her watch buzz. “Jeepers, Hitch. I thought you said I’d have the weekend off after closing the last case; guess criminals never know the meaning of break though. If only she had stopped to look at what the message had said. She would have seen that it actually told her to stay at Clancy house, that the Count had returned. Instead, she assumed it was telling her to go to the entrance, and so she turned her bike around.

At the next intersection, while waiting for the light to turn green, a black van approached. Ruby was so distracted on what the case might be about she didn’t notice, her second mistake of the evening.

It only took thirty seconds. She was grabbed off her bike, pulled into the van, all while a hand was covering her mouth. Then, a handkerchief was brought up to her nose, and everything faded to black.

Hours later, at the Redfort house, Hitch was debating what to tell LB. Ruby still wasn’t home, which was worrying, especially since Clancy said she went home when he showed up at his house to collect her.

“Hitch, there had better be a good reason for you calling me. With the recent return of you know who, I’ve been extremely busy, and you know it.”

“Yeah, LB, there is. I don’t know where Ruby is. She had already left the Crews when I sent the text, and she isn’t here,” Hitch admits, and LB breathes in sharply before letting out a few curses.

“You think he has her?” LB questions, and Hitch just nods.

“She wouldn’t just run off anymore. After what happened at the hospital, she’s had so many nightmares. One day I found her really shaken up, and she just told me that she would never run off or do something so stupid or irrational again. She hasn’t either,” Hitch admits, and LB just shakes her head.

“Alright, you and Blacker start searching for her. If you can’t find her, bring in a few others; ones you’re sure you can trust. Be careful Hitch, these are troubling times right now. If the wrong people catch wind, we’re doomed,” LB orders.

Hitch hangs up, and immediately dials Blacker. “We got the go ahead. You take North, I’ll take South,” He says, and Blacker nods.

They search for hours, long into the night and next morning, but it’s all for nothing. They bring in more people, Zuko and Sam. Same results.

LB hits the streets for the first time in years. This becomes the number one priority; LB sells it as if they find Ruby they’ll find the Count too. The other Spectrums join in on it, all of them keeping an eye out for her.

Eventually, the local police get involved. By this time, Ruby has been missing for a bit over thirty hours. They keep searching, but everyone is all too aware of the statistics. With each passing minute, the statistics are stacking against Ruby if this person were normal; they’re not quite sure if they should be happy that it’s the Count or not. On one hand you can never predict what he might do for what reason so she might still be alive, but then again, he kidnapped her and he doesn’t have the best track record of wanting her to stay alive.

Around this time, when they go through yet another abandoned building where someone said they spotted a girl looking like Ruby and come up empty, at the exact moment that Hitch and LB share this look of utter despair, Ruby wakes up.

All that she’s aware of is that the cell is dirty. Filthy, even by her standards. Though, that may be because her room is slightly cluttered, well, very if you're Mrs. Digby, but it doesn’t have layers upon layers of dirt, grime, blood, and who knows what else on it.

What is most horrifying, however, is who is standing outside of her cell. “Hello, Mrs. Redfort. How very nice for you to join me. I’m so glad you saw that I could protect you from those awful people at Spectrum. That you saw what I saw, how crooked they were, and how they only want to harm you,” The Count says sympathetically.

“I don’t know what bull you’re trying to sell, but it isn’t going to work on me. The people at Spectrum are looking for me right now, because you kidnapped me, you creepy psychopath. Stay away from me,” She all but yells, furious at what he said.

Count just looks at her like how the shark looked at her before it tried charging her, but instead he just turns heel and stalks out of the cell. She hears a door slam, and is now left alone in the darkness.

She gets up and starts pacing. Searching for something, anything to help her escape. Count wasn’t idiotic enough to leave her watch with her, but maybe he was enough to leave a nail behind. Hitch taught her how to escape with a nail once, just in case. He taught her how to escape with a lot of things. He said it was just in case, and that everyone Spectrum agent was required to know it, but she had been asking around and no one had to. It was probably just Hitch being overly cautious around her, as always.

When she sees there’s nothing, she goes back to the cot, and dramatically flops on it. She lays there, and now that she’s not moving, starts to feel the cold. She curls in on herself, trying to preserve the body's warmth and heat. Boy, do I wish Hitch would hurry up and find me. She thinks as she drifts off.

When she wakes up, there’s a tray of food under her cell. She curls up her nose, not in disgust, but in worry. What in the world is Count planning if it requires him feeding her? Experiments? Keeping her long term? Who knows what.

She decides to ignore the food. Best not to play along with his plans until he forces her to, which won’t happen. She won’t conform to his stupid plans and ideas.

He comes down to visit her again. Spewing the same old mess about Spectrum, how glad he is that she’s on his side now, etc. She responds the same as yesterday, and he just leaves again. He doesn’t make a comment on the food.

The second day greets her the same as the first. With a tray of food. It’s harder not to go over and devour it, so much harder than it was the day before, at least what she thinks was the day before. Yet, she couldn’t break her resolve. Rule 48: Don’t get distracted, focus on what you got to focus on. She has to focus on delaying Count’s plans with her, and the only way not to is to not eat, so she can’t eat. She can’t get distracted by the temptation.

When the Count comes down today, he frowns when he sees the untouched tray. “Now, Miss Redfort, you must stop this childish rebellion of yours. I know you're upset, but I’m really trying to help you. Spectrum was hurting you. They all hated you, they were all manipulating you and trying to brainwash you, trying to make you think they were the good guys.”

“Leave me alone, Victor. All you're going to do is hurt me. And stop pretending you care; you’re the one who kidnapped me. You're the one who tried to kill me. You’re the one who hates me; stop talking so bad about them and just leave me alone,” Ruby screams as she throws the tray of food he slid through the bars at him.

He just smiles, and goes ahead and leaves, though not before rolling the apple back under the bars. Ruby goes to the corner and sits in there trying to breathe. As much as she doesn’t want to, she knows she needs to eat. If she doesn’t, then Count will just let her die, or force feed her. Neither sound all that pleasant.

So sometime when her little cell turns pitch black, she goes and gets the red apple, and slowly starts to eat it. She justifies it with Rule 40: If you ain’t breathing, you ain’t surviving. Surely one apple wouldn’t hurt.

“Please hurry Hitch, I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” She whispers. She doesn’t know quite what she was referring to. Maybe it was the solitude. The lack of light. The cell. Count. Possibly even the lack of food. The lack of food she was inflicting on herself, to keep Count from hurting her. But, possibly the worst, was that she was slowly starting to believe him.

There was that little voice, that little voice that she hated that was saying that Hitch would have found her by now if he was looking. They all would have. And if they aren’t looking, it means they don’t care. Still, that voice isn’t that loud. It’s just starting to appear.

“Dang it, Blacker! What do you mean you didn’t find her! The clues specifically stated she would be there. Maybe you missed a room or something, check them all again. And Froghorn, check the code again and make sure that’s what it actually says,” Hitch order, frustration taking over his body. Both people he’s yelling at, Blacker on his watch and Froghorn in the room with him both nod, and do as he dictates. That’s how the past few days have been.

“Hitch, a word,” LB says, materializing at the door.

“What, LB?” He bits out.

“Hitch, it is only for the sake of I know that you’re stressed, and I know you’ve been taking notes from Redfort, so if I sent you home, you would instead stay here and continue ordering people around. But it has to stop. Your irritable behavior has to. Everyone is trying their best. Count is toying us, we knew it as soon as he sent the clue. We’re all just dancing to his tune, and until we can get ahead of the beat, that’s the way it’s going to have to go until we can get ahead of him. Now, I suggest you go ahead and go home, get some sleep and a better mood, and then come back tomorrow. And Hitch, none of this has been a discussion, it’s been a talk that you need and the last few bits of it an order.” LB firmly rants, and Hitch sighs. He knows she’s correct, but he can’t bring himself to admit it.

He starts to walk out, before LB calls out. “Oh, and Hitch, don’t turn to the bottle. I have a feeling we’re going to be getting another message tomorrow, and I’m going to need you in top shape for it.

The days pass as the second, well really third, did. Only, slightly more pleasant. Through trial and error, Ruby learned that if she was pleasant, Count would stay for a longer time. She liked when he stayed. Then she got to talk to someone. Somewhere, she knew he was a dangerous man, that he was playing her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

So, she ate the food the tray provided.

Then, the game changed. If she wanted his company and to eat, she had to say something bad about someone in Spectrum. She didn’t want to at first. She didn’t. But then, she got weak. She could feel the pressure in her chest, and knew if she didn’t do something she would die here. And she really didn’t want to die.

So, she silently asked Hitch to forgive her, and then started to badmouth him. Count gave her food and medicine. Pretty soon, the second he stepped in the room she started badmouthing Spectrum, so that he would stay and give her something to eat.

She slowly started to agree to everything he said about Spectrum, because surely it had to be true. Ruby would be back with her parents now, if they cared. They surely couldn’t care, none of them. She had no hope of someone finding her, Count was her only contact and her only friend. Her only way to keep sane and survive.

Hitch was not handling this well. No one in Spectrum was, but Hitch worse than everyone else. He had taken to drinking again, and was drunk quite often. No one spoke of the drunk calls they got from him, and no one could blame him.

He had started to grow a beard too, and was extremely rough. He snapped at everyone, and no one wanted to be near him.

Blacker, he was never the most clean but it got worse after Ruby was gone. He stopped getting donuts, he couldn’t stomach the thought. There was no such thing as an organization system, and even Froghorn gave up on trying to help him.

Speaking of Froghorn, everyone thought he was the least affected besides LB by this all. They didn’t really know anything. He spaced out, started back talking authority figures, and even yelled at LB when she told him to start working on other cases and stop solving all the useless clues Count was sending them. He also disobeyed a direct order.

He even started to go into the field, to follow up on clues when Blacker was working on another case. Hitch went with him, of course, but still. LB wasn’t happy about this, but didn’t try to stop it beyond telling them not to.

Everyone ignored the statistics. They all knew them, but no one talked about them.

Once, Clancy asked. He helped with the search, and honestly is the best off of all of them. He misses her, God only knows how much he misses her.

He asked what are the chances that she was still alive, and everyone just stared at him. Finally, Blacker answered that they weren’t good, and that’s all anyone said on the subject.

One day, Clancy came in with another clue. No one said anything, since it was a common occurrence. No one could figure out why he was so excited. Then, they looked in the envelope too, and they saw. This time, he sent a picture of Ruby.

Everyone was immediately called in, and all they could do was stare at the photo. At least everyone but Froghorn did that; he got to working on the code immediately.

“Got it. It says she’s in an abandoned warehouse in ChinaTown,” Froghorn proclaims, and Hitch starts to move towards the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” LB asks.

Hitch doesn’t even look back before replying, “To go get her. What do you think?”

“I think you’re not going alone,” Is LB’s response. Everyone in the room follows her lead. They don’t talk, don’t say that it could be another trap or false hope. They all feel it; this time is different. This time they’re coming home with her, or knowing they killed the people who killed her.

Ruby wakes up to people knocking on the door.

Who could it be? Victor just comes straight in, and no one else cares. If they cared, they would have been looking for me. Victor said they didn’t bother looking for longer than a day. He says that Hitch was happy I was gone, since he could be a field agent again and didn’t have to look after me. He said Blacker was happy because now he didn’t have to share his sweets. He said LB was happy now that she didn’t have to lecture me. He said Clancy was happy now that he didn’t have me nearly killing him. Everyone was happy that I was gone, so why are they trying to look for me?

Oh, I know. They must have a case. Victor said when they had trouble solving something, they would try to find me so they could use me again. That it was all Spectrum ever did; use me.

They step in. Hitch first, with his gun drawn. Almost as if he expects Ruby to attack him, or at least that’s how she perceives it. Right on his heels are LB, and then Blacker, and then Clancy, and lastly, surprisingly, Froghorn.

“Crud, Ruby, gosh, we need to get her out of here,” Hitch exclaims. Surprisingly enough, at least to Ruby, worry is tracing his face.

“It doesn’t matter if you open the call, I won’t come out. I don’t want to be used, or around you. None of you care about me,” Ruby screams at them, much like how she did to Count a month ago.

“Ruby, what did he say about us?” Froghorn asks quietly.

“He said y’all didn’t search for me because you didn’t care. That you were happy I was gone. And he was right. If you had cared, you would have found me sooner,” Ruby murmurs, and everyone unconsciously tenses and vows to murder Count.

“What did he say about us, individually?” Froghorn presses. Blacker shoots him a questioning look, but Froghorn just shakes his head and holds his finger up for one minute.

“He said that Blacker would be happy that he didn’t have to share with me, and didn’t have me annoying him and making you mad. He said that Hitch was happy since he could now be a field agent. Clancy was happy that I wasn’t risking his life. LB was happy that she didn’t have to constantly lecture me,” Ruby recites, and Hitch has to close his eyes to keep from lashing out.

“But he didn’t say anything about me. So that means I still feel the same way about you as before you left. And before you left I liked you, so you can believe what I say. Correct?” Froghorn asks, and Ruby looks at them for the first time.

They see her eyes, her childlike eyes that don’t belong to her teenage body. They see her vulnerability, and insecurity in her slow, shy nod.

“Ruby, we did look. We tried to find you. We searched everywhere. The Count would play with us by sending us clues that turned out to be empty warehouses, but we still followed everyone of them up because it might be the warehouse that you were in. Hitch and I disobeyed LB’s orders to keep on this case; we wouldn’t let it close. We care about you, and we will always be there for you. It might just take us a while to get there,” Froghorn says, and that does it.

Ruby breaks down, sobbing. You can see her fighting with herself, with what she was fed for a month, the lies Count told her and brain games he played with her, and with her instincts.

Finally, her sobs die down, and she simply whispers, “Rule 28 and Rule 6.”

She gets up, very, very, unsteadily, and walks to the bars.

Hitch doesn’t waste a second, and rushes foreward. Ruby reaches out through the bars, and he takes her hand. They try to hug through the cells, and don’t pull away for a long time.

However, just before they do, you can hear Hitch whisper, “I love you, Ruby. And I will always try to find you, and be with you, no matter how long the run will be.”

#bad things happen bingo #RR #Ruby Redfort #Clancy Crew #Angst #hurt/comfort #lb #Hitch #Hitch acting like Ruby's dad #Count #Count is awful

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