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cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

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omg omg omg totally new silly idea- human! alastor x human! reader where they meet at a party and go outside for a walk near the pier and the moon is beautiful and… they pull out weapons on each other (specifically Alastor a knife and reader a gun) and thats when they decide to form a partner in crime partnership

And in other to keep appearances they are forced to “fake date”

Mimzy: youve been spending some time with that new girl havent you, is she your gf or smth?” chuckle

Naize 20 yr old smth Alastor trying to think of a response thats not that:...

Mimzy: OMG IS SHE?

Alastor: sureeeeee

And they aren't actually into each other until a lot later into their partnership when they’re chasing some guy and reader gets to them first and just starts going at it “hey man i think hes had enough” “YOU WANT WHAT HES HAVING???” thpe shit

and Alastor has to catch his breath and he lowkey thinks hes dying because his heart starts beating a lot, And he goes again to mimzy for advice cuz i dont think he has anu friends and shes like “oh sweetie…”

And because its quite impossible to not get attached at one point theyre in another chase and reader starts laughing hysterically like “did you see him trying to run away??? lmao” and he goes “I couldnt take my eyes off you” and then just grabs her face and SMOOCH >:)

I think its a good trope- fake dating to actual dating even if its. about. murderers- :3

A/N YOU GUYS COME UP WITH THE BEST REQUESTS JESUS CHRIST!!! Also I promise I will get to the rest of the requests this weekend, I had two exams today so this is the only thing I am gonna post. Sorry.

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: uh, murder. Mild gore. Violence. Weapons.

Word Count: 4,460 (I went a little overboard with this one)

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"I'll walk her home, don't worry Mimzy." Alastor was saying as Y/n pulled her coat over her shoulders.

The noises of the party still raging on filtered into the grand entryway of the house, muffled through the walls. Mimzy shot her two friends a suspicious look.

"It's nothing like that, Mimz." Y/n sighed, straightening the collar of her fur coat, "I just asked cause of all those murders in the news. Kinda freaky, don't you think? I don't really wanna be out alone at night and Al here was kind enough to offer."

Mimzy crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.

"Sure." she teased.

"Mimzy." Alastor sighed in response and she put her hands up in false surrender.

"Sorry! Sorry." she hummed playfully, "I know you two free birds would never."

Alastor rolled his eyes and, turning to Y/n, held out his arm. She took it daintily, a grateful smile on her face. The pair had just met a few hours earlier but had quickly fallen into a casual camaraderie. He lead her from the house, Mimzy calling her goodnights and wishes for their safety after their retreating forms.

It was a mostly quiet walk through the desolate midnight streets of New Orleans. Y/n hummed softly, kicking a can along with the toes of her healed shoes.

"You'll ruin them that way, wont you?" Alastor asked, feigning concern.

Y/n just shrugged.

"They're shoes. Yeah, they're nice but I wont let that stop me from living. Let's stop by the water, it's so pretty tonight."

Alastor turned slightly, looking out at the Mississippi with it's slightly turbid waters reflecting the light of the stars. He tried not to smile, it was like she wanted him to carry out his intended work. She was making it so easy for him.

"Sure."

They turned towards the rail and Y/n let go of his arm, leaning her elbows against it. She let out a sigh of longing as her eyes tracked the ripples in the surface.

Alastor watched her for a moment, the moon illuminating her features. She was a handsome woman, there was no doubt about it. It had been proved to him tenfold by the amount of prospective partners she had turned down dances with at the party in favor of drinking with him at the bar. That was not what Alastor was interested in, however. Once he was sure she was distracted, once he was sure she had no intent to take her eyes from the glowing river, he looked down. Moving his coat slightly to the side, his hand quickly found its way to the hilt of the knife he had stashed in his waistband for just such an occasion.

He pulled it out, the weight familiar, almost comforting in a sense, in his hand. There was a click. He looked up, the blade pointed to its intended target.

Y/n was facing him now, a wry smile on her face. One foot in front of the other, she took a step forward. The muzzle of the gun, the cocking of which had been the source of the noise which had drawn his attention, just a few centimeters from his chest. The tip of his knife hovered indefinitely by the open center of her coat. He chuckled in amusement, eyebrows raised.

"I thought there were a few more bodies in the news than there should have been. A gun? Really?"

Y/n shrugged.

"I'm little. I don't have the privilege of being able to overpower my victims like you."

Alastor hummed softly. A slight breeze picked up, playing with the edges of their hair.

"What a shame."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"I don't think so. It works well enough."

"Those machines are inelegant, they are detached."

"And you prefer a sense of intimacy to be involved in all your escapades?"

Alastor removed the knife, holding it up to his eyes. He turned the blade over in his hand, examining it closely. Following suit, Y/n let her hand fall to her side, the gun still cocked should an occasion arise to use it.

"I have an idea." he suddenly announced.

"Oh?" Y/n asked.

She took a step back, returning to the water's edge. Alastor followed, leaning over the railing beside her. They watched one another closely, weapons still clutched loosely in their hands.

"Yep."

"You gonna tell me what it is or am I gonna have to guess?" Y/n teased after a moment, breaking the oddly comfortable silence that had fallen after Alastor's last words.

"There have been a few times, of late, where I've come a bit... uncomfortably close to being seen."

"Getting lazy." Y/n hummed, "Or maybe just cocky."

"It seems like you could use a hand, someone with brute strength in case anything goes wrong."

She scoffed, smiling just the slightest bit.

"Are you proposing we work together?"

"You're the one who said it, not me."

Y/n shook her head slightly, amused.

"How would I know you wouldn't just turn on me? End up killing me or decide not to step in if I needed help?"

"And how would I know that you wouldn't rat me out? Alert someone to where I was and what I was doing rather than telling me someone was coming? It's called trust, Y/n."

Y/n thought it over, fiddling with the gun in her grip as she did so. Alastor watched, seeing the gears turning in her mind through the light of her eyes.

"Fine." she said at last, un-cocking the gun and holding a hand out to him, "You've got yourself a deal."

Alastor smiled, slipping the knife back into his belt before grasping her hand in his. It was chilled by the air of the January night enveloping them.

"Deal."

Y/n quickly learned Alastor's preferred demographic. He had a penchant for angry men, drunks. Y/n had been a one off, a spur of the moment opportunity he had thought to take hold of. Alastor had not been like that for her. Y/n's preferred victims were also men. Anyone that showed any pressing interest in her, anyone who tried to take her home for the night, always ended up six feet under. For both, murder was a way of processing their personal experiences and traumas.

As a result of their deal, Y/n and Alastor began to spend more time together. They had to learn one another's intricacies, their ways of thinking, their nature of being. It was a necessity if anything was actually going to work. They both had rather busy work schedules, Alastor as a radio broadcaster with his very own show and Y/n as a seamstress at a local dress shop. Because of this, more often than not, the only time they had to get to know one another was through shared meals. Both of them had to eat, needed a lunch break or dinner. It was just what worked. Because of their slightly shared demographic of victim, they ended up in bars together quite frequently as well.

It was in one of these meet ups that they ran into their first difficulty. Y/n was sitting across a table from him outside a cafe, lazily sipping on a coffee as she perused the missing persons list in a newspaper. The newspaper was old, they were exchanging information about who was responsible for what. Working together didn't just mean knowing one another as they were now, but their histories as well.

They should have known not to sit in such a public place. Both had many connections in the city due to their jobs, though few friends. It just so happened on that day that the one true friend they did have in common was walking down the very street they sat on.

"Alastor?" Mimzy exclaimed, catching sight of his familiar face and moving towards their table.

Y/n folded the newspaper, placing it on the table as she turned towards the sound. Mimzy came to a stop, her brow furrowing in mild confusion as she saw her friend was not in fact alone.

"And Y/n, fancy meeting you two here."

"Pull up a chair, Mimz." Y/n smiled and Mimzy obeyed.

Swinging a spare chair from a nearby table, she quickly joined them.

"I haven't seen you two since the party! How have you been."

"Fine, fine." Alastor hummed and Y/n nodded her assent.

"And whats this with you two getting coffee?" Mimzy asked, a teasing smile slipping onto her face as Alastor took a sip of his own drink, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, not at all Mimz." Y/n shook her head, a slight smile on her face, "It's always a pleasure to see you."

"You sure this isn't a date or something? I mean, with the way you two left and everything... having coffee alone..."

Alastor nearly choked on his drink. Y/n and Mimzy turned to him as he put a hand to his chest, clearing his throat.

"Excuse me." he said and Mimzy's grin widened.

"Oh this is totally a date."

"No!" Alastor exclaimed, exchanging a fervent glance with Y/n across the table.

She raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. Without words, she told him to handle it. Alastor sighed.

"Are you sure?" Mimzy asked, a suggestive tone to her voice.

"I... uh..." Alastor stuttered, his brain working in overdrive to think of anything else. It came up empty, "Fine. Yes. We're... we're on a date."

"You caught us." Y/n chimed in and Mimzy turned to her.

"Oh my stars! You two.... I shoulda guessed you'd get on like a house on fire. Shame I can't invite you to any more of my singles parties though Y/n, you are a riot."

Singles parties. A hunting ground. Y/n smiled.

"No, no, Mimz. We're not exclusive or anything."

Mimzy's eyes widened slightly at the revelation as Alastor shot Y/n a look across the table. Dating was going to be hard for them to sell but swingers too? What was she thinking.

"Really? How exotic." Mimzy hummed in thought.

"We're all going to hell anyways so, why not." Y/n shrugged.

"Oh you." Mimzy laughed, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder as she got to her feet, "Well, I won't keep you love birds any longer. I'll see you next week for the next party then?"

"We'll see." Alastor hummed placidly.

Once Mimzy had gone, he rounded on Y/n.

"Swingers?" he asked, eyebrows raised, "Really?"

"Hey, you're the one who started the whole 'we're dating' thing." Y/n sighed, picking the newspaper back up and resuming the task at hand, "I just made it easier for us."

"It will utterly destroy my reputation if this gets out you know."

Y/n shot him a look over the top of the paper.

"Al, you got a lot more to worry about than pretending to be a swinger in terms of your reputation. Now, Marcus Alcost? Six four, buff, scar on his left forearm? Brown hair?"

"Blue eyes?"

"Umm... yeah."

"Yep, that was me."

"Nice. Musta been a tough one to take down."

Alastor would track men, following them out as they left the establishments in the small hours of the morning with the intent of returning to their families. He would stalk them, corner them, lead them in. Y/n would stand watch, alerting him at the first sign of trouble.

The moment she heard footsteps, chatter, Y/n would duck in. Grabbing Alastor by the arm, she would whisk him off in some random direction, having consistently used the time she was on lookout to scout for escape routes.

They had had a few close calls, one or two times he had had to press her up against a wall and pretend to kiss her to avoid prying eyes. They always had a good laugh after something like that. Mostly, things worked out well. They each had survived on their own for years at this point. They knew what they were doing, adding another person into the mix just made it a tad easier.

Y/n, on the other hand, didn't need to track her victims down, they did that work for her. She would dress up all pretty and the moment someone asked to take her home or something of the like, would agree. Then she'd pull them into some ally or another under the guise of not wanting to wait a second longer and attack. Alastor would stand behind her, arms crossed menacingly as she carried out her work. He threatened so she could perform and she never had any trouble thanks to him.

That was, until one night about a year into their little partnership. As the time had passed, their relationship had grown. They still held the ruse of dating up before anyone who asked why it was they each spent so much time with the other but, a real friendship had begun to blossom between them as well. As it turns out, they had a lot more in common than just a tendency to commit brutal murders. Y/n knew Alastor well by now, better than anyone else most likely, and he knew her as well. That was how he could tell something was wrong.

Y/n had given Alastor the usual signal from across the bar and he had settled his tab. As he followed the pair, Y/n and the tall man whose hand she held, Alastor had noticed something was off. Normally by this point Y/n was stumbling around, pretending to be drunk and ditzy. She was doing this very thing now but in a more halted and jagged way. The man she was with seemed more believably drunk than she was, swaying this way and that. Her movements were uncharacteristically harsh as she pulled the man into the ally about a block ahead of him.

Alastor picked up the pace, breaking into a light jog. He reached the ally and turned down it, expecting to see Y/n flirting with the man or with her gun out already. Instead, he was met with something entirely different.

At the back of the ally lay the huddled mass of the man. On top of him was Y/n. The thuds of her knuckles against his face was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. She hit him, again and again. Alastor stood there, stunned.

"Dear, whatever is the matter?" he asked at last, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Y/n."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see the splatters of blood now, on the ground around them and the wall behind. The thuds included the occasional squelch, the crack of a bone.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"You'll ruin your hands for work tomorrow if you keep at this."

Still, she ignored him. There was a sickening crunch. Sighing, he approached.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see it now, the man's mutilated face. Part of his skull looked like it had caved in. He had stopped moving long ago.

"Y/n, dear," Alastor tentatively reached out a hand towards her shoulder as he spoke, "don't you think he has had enough?"

Y/n whipped around to him, her eyes wild and her bloody raw knuckles raised. He froze, his hand hovering above her shoulder. There was blood everywhere. It soaked the sleeves of her collard shirt, it dripped from her fingers, it decorated her face and her bared teeth.

"What, you fucking want some too?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribcage, begging for escape. It wasn't fear, it couldn't be. He could take this girl down in ten seconds flat, blood hungry as she was.

Y/n's eyes, sharp with violence, softened slightly as she saw his reaction. She let her hands fall, resting them on the man's chest.

"He tried to drug me." she revealed, turning her eyes back to her mess, her masterpiece.

"He what?"

"Yeah." she sighed, using the back of her hand to push her hair from her eyes, leaving a residue of blood in the wake of the movement, "I caught him, switched the drinks."

Alastor shifted his gaze to the man before falling on Y/n once again. Her face was blank now, all the rage gone.

"He tried to drug me." she said again, her voice hollow.

At last, his hand found its home on her shoulder and she turned to face him once again. Alastor extended his free hand to Y/n. She examined it for a moment before daintily placing one of her own in his and allowing him to help her to her feet. Both her hands now rested in his as they looked back at the remains of the man.

"Well, he's definitely dead."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hands. Now free, he used one of them to turn her face to his. Blood spattered, wide eyed, lips slightly parted -- his heart fought for freedom from his chest once again.

"He deserved it."

Alastor let go of Y/n's chin and used the cuff of his jacket to wipe some of the blood from her face.

"Can you walk me home?"

Normally if she had asked something like that, Alastor would have teased her to no end. Why be scared of the monsters in the dark when she herself was one of them? But her voice had been small, timid. She had avoided his eyes and his fingers tingled at the prospect of her viewing him as protector.

"Of course, my dear."

They did not have another planned meeting until two weeks from that day. Y/n had a big project at work and wouldn't have any spare time because of it. Alastor, normally restless at the idea of having to wait so long to satisfy his bloodlust either by killing or seeing the show of death, was grateful for the respite. He was confused, overwhelmed even, because his strange reactions, the change in his patterns of thought towards the girl, hadn't ended at Y/n's front door.

No, she was haunting him. Like a vengeful ghost, he saw her in his mind. She took up every waking moment, he didn't know what to do. Alastor waited a day and still, it persisted. The skip of his heart, the odd slightly sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of their reunion. He waited three days and it didn't stop. By the time the end of the week rolled around and Alastor still found himself smiling at the prospect of only having to wait another week not to kill but to see Y/n again, he did the unthinkable. It was the only option he could come up with. Besides Y/n, she was the only other person in the world he even half trusted. Alastor called Mimzy.

"Alastor, darling!" she excitedly exclaimed into the phone, "What a surprise! What can I do for you?"

"Yeah, hey Mimzy. Um..." he struggled to find the words, fiddling with the phone cord as he walked to the window, looking down at the street below, "I just... I need your advice about something."

"What is it, hun?" she immediately replied, "Seems its got you in a tizzy, not a lot can do that."

"I... It's about Y/n."

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?"

"No. Maybe?" he turned from the window, collapsing in his desk chair, "I don't know."

"Spill."

"Well, we... I just.... Mimz, I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well I would hope not, you've been together for almost a year now."

"Yeah well, about that. It may have been a... stretching of the truth? Shall we say?"

"Al." Mimzy warned after a moment's silence, "If you are playing with this gi-"

"No!" he exclaimed, cutting her off and quickly crafting an excuse, "No. It was just to get our parents off our backs. We had a deal. They were both pestering us about when we were gonna get married, you know how it is."

"I thought your dad was dead?"

"My ma though, she really wants to see me settled down."

"I guess that explains the swingers thing." Mimzy sighed, "It didn't really seem in character for either of you. So, whats the matter?"

"I told you, I can't stop thinking about her. It's like... it's like... look, we're not dating, but we're friends, you know? And we were out at a bar together a few nights ago and she just... she did something and when I looked at her, it was like I died."

"That little minx." Mimzy laughed in glee, "What the heck did she do?"

"Just something, okay?"

"I have got to quiz her about this."

"No! Please, no. She'd... probably be embarrassed."

"Mmm... okay...." came Mimzy's doubtful reply, "So what was it you needed help with?"

"Well, that. It was like the breath had left my body entirely. I felt... sick, my chest hurt. It was so strange. I thought it would go away once I got some sleep but it didn't. Every time I think about her, it feels like there is a vice around my heart and I can't stop thinking about her."

"Al, seriously? This is what you're asking me about?"

"Yeah?" he uncertainly replied after a moment.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Mimzy, are you going to help or not?"

She sighed.

"Alastor, you have a crush on her."

A beat.

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. Maybe even more."

"I..." his brow furrowed, his breath left his body.

This was bad. This could be dangerous, detrimental even.

"Are you sure?"

"Butterflies in your stomach? Pains in your chest? Can't get her out of your mind? You're even breathless for christ's sake Al. It's textbook first pangs of love."

"Fuck."

Mimzy laughed.

"You're already pretend dating, what harm would asking her to do the real thing with you do? My bet is, she's probably been feeling the same thing about you. That tends to happen in cases like yours, I've seen it before. The whole 'fake love turns real' trope. It's overdone if you ask me."

"Mimzy, this isn't one of your trashy romance novels. This is my life."

"So live it radio man! Go get that girl."

Alastor was nervous, trembling even as he sat at the bar. His glass of whiskey had gone warm on the table as he watched Y/n dancing and having fun in the crowd. This was how it usually went when it was his turn to hunt, she'd have fun and he'd find a target. Once the target left, he'd grab her and they'd move out.

Tonight he was distracted and it showed. The man had nearly given them the slip. With Alastor's knife still sticking out of his shoulder, he had ducked away and started running. Of course that meant Alastor and Y/n had to give chase. They ran after him through the streets of New Orleans as he screamed bloody murder and Y/n's heels clicked definitively on the ground. He was thankful that the hour was late and no one was out and about, thankful the man was so drunk his words came out closer to garbled singing than pleas for help, thankful he was slowed by his consumption.

When they at last caught up with him, Alastor grabbed his second knife from his belt and, taking the man's hurt shoulder in his free hand, buried it deep in the man's back. He fell to the floor, sputtering, coughing up blood. In a few moments he was still. Alastor turned to Y/n, panting.

Her pretty eyes traced a path between murderer and victim a handful of times before a smile broke out onto her face. Before he could really register what was happening, she was doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach.

Alastor watched Y/n, eyebrows raised as they both caught their breath. After about a minute, she straightened up and turned to him, wiping a tear from her eye.

"What?" Alastor asked with a wry smile, "What is so funny about a dead man."

"He..." she broke out into laughter again, "He... the way he ran! And we almost lost him?! Oh my god, Al, that coulda been so bad."

"The way... he ran?"

"He... didn't you see it? Oh my god, it was so funny. Like he was running in a three legged race with an invisible partner." she wheezed.

Alastor felt the heat pooling in his cheeks. Mimzy was right, it was time for him to live his life. A normal existence could coexist with his hobby, Y/n had already proved that to him.

"Didn't you see?" she asked again.

"No." he shook his head, "I was... I was watching you."

"You were... Al, theres no way you were." Y/n scoffed, "No way. If you were watching me, he would have gotten away. If you were watching me, it would meant that you were unconcerned by your oh-so-precious reputation being ruined. If you were watching me, it would mean..."

She trailed off as he took a step closer to her, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips. Y/n's cheeks flushed pink.

"Alastor."

Her voice was a dying prayer. Reaching a trembling hand up, he laid it on the back of her head, his fingers tangling with her hair as she looked up at him with wide eyes. Alastor closed the gap.

He had been so scared. Scared she would push him away, that she wouldn't kiss back. Even a little bit scared he'd just become the next name on her list of degenerate men she'd killed.

There was a moment, a split second, where his fears were realized. Then, she washed them all away. Hands buried in the lapel of his jacket, she pulled him closer, Y/n leaned in.

They broke apart after a moment, their cheeks flushed and utterly breathless.

"I-"

"Would you like to go on a date with me, Y/n?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Are you going to try to kill me again?"

"Oh please, I thought we'd moved past that darling."

Y/n smiled, still holding him close. Alastor let his hands fall onto her waist as they swayed slightly under the light of the moon.

"Yes Alastor. I will let you take me on a date."

"We will not be swingers."

Y/n laughed.

"Just had to make that clear."

"No, Alastor. If I am going to get you, I want you all to myself. Now, what are we going to do about that body?"

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 2

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aemondsbabe · 3 months

Text

A Kindness

summary: you're finally ramsay's most favorite toy, but is that really a good thing?

pairing: ramsay bolton x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark content it's ramsay hello, blood kink but no injury/gore, mentioned major character death (again, no injury/gore), slight au (ramsay wins battle of the bastards), choking, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation, slapping, piv sex, unprotected sex don't be silly wrap ur willy, hair pulling, creampie, slight breeding kink, puppy play, boot humping idk how to else to phrase it, slight angst but a happy ending for ramsay lmao, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.2k

a/n: my first foray into dark or at least semi-dark writing and my first time writing ramsay! i've had this one in my head for such a long time so it feels really good to actually get it out! hope everyone enjoys and please make sure to heed the warnings with this one!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🖤 my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Dip the cloth again, you dolt,” you snap, looking up from the scroll of parchment rolled out before you on the table when you hear the coarse woolen cloth begin to scrape dryly across the silver Ramsay’s… thing was supposed to be polishing, “If I have to remind you of that one more time, I’ll tell him you tried to touch me. I wonder which part of you he’d hack off for that, hm?”

Reek’s eyes go wide at your threat and he nods his head frantically, quickly reaching over and dunking the cloth into the small bowl of vinegar before him. “Yes, m’lady. Apologies, m’lady.”

A small sigh leaves your lips as you rest an elbow on the table, nose scrunching up slightly at the sour smell that seems to hang like a cloud over the room, the small one by the kitchens.

Probably where the staff ate, you think, staring blankly at the fire crackling away in the hearth. You’ve tried hard to picture it – Winterfell in its former glory, trussed up with wolf banners and filled with children’s laughter, how it was when the Stark’s called it home.

Your eyes linger on Reek and for a second, you’re halfway tempted to ask him about it – what it was like living here, being one of them. You don’t, knowing the question would fall on deaf ears at the least, or send him spiraling to the point of being unable to finish his chores, and then it would be your head on the chopping block as well.

Distantly, you hear the familiar baying of Ramsay’s hounds and your eyes flick up to the narrow slit windows on the wall; you do your best to ignore the way Reek’s head swivels to the sound in the same instance yours does, the way that adrenaline so keenly rushes through you – a burst of panic leading the charge before you have the chance to correct it.

Anticipation, you remind yourself, jaw clenched, Passion, excitement.

Your eyes vacantly scan over the parchment you’d nabbed from the library earlier that morning, an account of the birth of Arya, apparently the sister of the one that had actually managed to escape some weeks back, no doubt frozen now in one of the snowy forests that surrounds Winterfell. You don’t really care, your thoughts once again reverting back to Myranda. Bitterly, you remember how he never made her stay behind when he went hunting, never made her watch over his man-servant, never made her second guess.

The last one is a lie, the truth woven deeply into the many nights you’d spent up with her – listening as she fretted about each word she’d uttered to him that day, hoping each one had been right and had been said at the right time, that he wouldn’t find some made-up cause to punish her. Tendrils of jealousy had twisted into you even then, even as she painted a picture of what he truly was.

Just as men’s voices filter through the windows from the courtyard outside, your lips quirk up into a mean, victorious little smirk.

It’s her body he fed to the dogs, you think, the voice in your mind a proud hiss, Just like Violet’s and Tansy’s and Kyra’s. You remember the day well enough, remember the shock of seeing your friend's body laying in the courtyard as you’d run out to greet Ramsay, teal eyes staring at nothing. It had been you that had warmed his bed that very night, and all the ones after it.

“There you are,” a familiar voice sounds from behind you, nearly making you yelp as Reek scrambles to stand up from the table. Before you even have a chance to, a strong hand clasps over your shoulder, stilling your movements, “No, no, don’t get up on my account.” Rusty copper stains color his hand, dried blood outlining each of his nails. You don’t let your mind linger on what the source of it could be.

You whip your head around and swallow nervously as he chuckles lowly, “Ramsay!” You breathe in greeting, the corners of your lips tilting up into a tentative smile, though that’s quickly washed away as you take in the messy splotches of red that stain his coat and tunic, that snake their way up the pale column of his throat and dot the sides of his face.

He looks every bit the hunter and you wonder, not for the first time, what that makes you.

“You seem quite comfortable here, pet,” he drawls, leaning down until he’s eye-level with you, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more at home down here with the help,” he continues, hand tightening to the point of pain on your shoulder, making you grit your teeth, “Than you are in our chambers where you’re meant to be.”

Our chambers. A privilege he never granted her. Stupidly, your heart sings.

His hand tightens on your shoulder once more, finally drawing a pained whine from your lips.

“Y-You told me to watch him! To make sure he –” You’re cut off as Ramsay unceremoniously hauls you to your feet, clawing at your leather doublet. A cry leaves your lips as the hand on your shoulder tangles into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging as he forces your head back, blue eyes flicking to your neck as you swallow thickly.

“I told you to be in our chambers when I return from hunts,” he corrects you, standing to his full height as he holds you tightly, forcing you unsteadily onto your tip-toes, “That I expected you to be at the door, ready and waiting for me.” His lips ghost over your ear as he speaks, his voice a low growl that shouldn’t excite you the way it does.

“I’m sorry,” you wince internally at the way your voice comes out as a pained little squeak, your hands scrambling to hang onto his forearm, nails digging into the stained quilted fabric of his jacket.

“You know how I get after a hunt,” he suddenly pulls away from you, his hand pulling out of your hair, a gasp leaving you as your heels drop to the floor. You blink as he reaches up, not flinching from years of practice, though instead of striking you or harshly gripping at your jaw like you expect, his hand cups your cheek. Your chest rises and falls as he strokes his thumb over your cheekbone, blood stained fingers now delicate against your soft skin.

“Today’s was a special one, too. Don’t you remember?” He questions, icy eyes sliding from yours to the red-headed man still standing by the table, glimmering cruelly as he smirks.

Still, you nod your head, knowing Reek won’t answer. “To celebrate killing Jon Snow,” you breathe, gripping at the leather of his tunic, desperate to win even a scrap of approval.

Surprisingly, he grants it – fixing you with a proud little grin, like how an owner would look at a dog that’s just mastered a new trick. “That’s right,” his hand ruffles the hair on the top of your head, a gesture that should feel demeaning, yet it sends a tingle of pride through you instead, “Seems you can remember something after all.” He pulls away and traipses over to Reek, hands clasped behind his back.

“Surely you remember too, Reek? You were in the kennels that evening when the dogs had their treat, were you not?” He taunts, the playful inflection in his voice entirely for show, “Our little problem’s been dealt with and now we hold not only the Dreadfort but Winterfell as well! What do you think about that, hm?” Ramsay studies the other man carefully, eyes flitting over his face as he takes great pleasure in the subtle twitches of pain that still manage to flicker through the harsh conditioning he’d endured. Your eyes stay fixed firmly on the stone floor.

“A… A great victory, master!”

“Yes, a great victory, indeed,” he smiles, watching Reek for another moment before turning back to you. His smile morphs into a cold, callous frown that ties your stomach into knots, each of his steps making your heart hammer faster in your chest. “You know, it’s actually rather amusing,” he starts, bloodied fingers twirling a stray lock of your hair, “How my hounds seem to be continually more well trained than you, pretty little idiot.”

Pretty, pretty, pretty! Your heart thumps dumbly, a rabbit in a snare.

“I’ll do better!” You whimper, shaking your head frantically as your eyes meet his, “I can do better, really, I was just confu–”

The hand in your hair shoots down suddenly, yanking several strands with it as he clamps it around your neck. “Confused?” Ramsay murmurs, watching with rapt attention at how you struggle in his hold, lips quivering as the words die in your throat, “Really? I give you one task, I ask one thing of you, and you can’t even figure that out? You still disappoint me?”

He’s not expecting an answer, you know this, and yet you still try to give one as your mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water, only the faintest little whines managing to escape. You feel faint, both from his grip around your throat and from the myriad of emotions coursing through your veins – your heart twists at the thought of failing him, your stomach is in knots as various punishments flash through your mind, and yet your center still sparks, still sends little glimmers of arousal through you.

His grip loosens enough to allow you to suck in several shaky lungfuls of air as he snickers, endlessly amused at how eager you still are, how you still yearn so deeply for him. Again, he pats your head condescendingly, muttering little hushes as if you were a crying puppy. “Lucky for you, pet, I have plenty of experience training stubborn bitches,” Ramsay chuckles, blue eyes glimmering with mirth when he feels you swallow apprehensively, “I think we’ll have your behavior corrected in no time, won’t we? Even the stupidest of beasts can still learn a trick or two.”

Before you have time to react, the hand cradling the crown of your head harshly grabs at your hair again, tugging you suddenly toward the door. “Ah!” You yelp, stumbling as he all but drags you behind him, your hands shake as they struggle to grab onto his forearm, “Ramsay, pl–!”

“You should be grateful I am allowing you the kindness of walking!” He growls, sparing you a glance over his shoulder as he leads you through the Great Hall, “Pity I’m so protective of you, really, I’m sure it would be quite entertaining for my men to watch you crawl.” His drawled threat sends a spark of fear down your spine and you pant, chest heaving, as you shuffle behind him; your cheeks burn as several of his soldiers sitting at the long wooden tables catcall as you stagger past them.

Finally, the two of you reach your shared chambers, that fact sending a little torrent of satisfaction through you even now. Unceremoniously, Ramsay all but tosses you inside and you whimper as your hip collides with an edge of the decorative table just inside the door, no doubt hard enough to bruise but at least it breaks your fall.

“It’s quite unfortunate, normally find your impudence amusing,” he starts lowly, pressing the old wooden door closed with a thud before sliding the lock into place with a self-satisfied grin, “But I know you know better, don’t you, little one?” He asks as he stalks toward you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he stands before you, studying you silently for a second in the same calculated way he studies a deer through the sight of his bow. Not knowing what else to do, you silently nod your head as your eyes slip down to the floor, like a child being scolded.

“You’ve been with me the longest now,” he murmurs as if you don’t know, one bloodstained hand grabbing at your waist as the other fits around the back of your neck, once again forcing your eyes to his face, “We grew up together, you and I. You know my ways, my rules, isn’t that right?”

Again, you nod your head, bottom lip trembling with the want to explain yourself, although you know that would only make things worse.

“That’s what makes your disobedience so frustrating,” his blue eyes bore into yours as he speaks, his lip sticking out in a mocking pout, “Because you do know better and yet you’re stupid enough to act out anyway, hm?” His tone is sharper now, dangerous like the pointed tip of an arrow.

“I wasn’t acting out!” The words claw themselves out of your throat before you can stop them and instantly you know you’ve made a mistake, but now you’re desperate to remedy it, “I wasn’t, really! I j-just misunderstood you, that’s –”

Your pleas come to a screeching halt as his hand smacks across your face, the other grips at your jaw tightly, tight enough to make you whine softly in his grasp. Your eyes squeeze shut for a second, cheek stinging, before they open and lock with his again, wild and desperately.

I wasn’t being insolent! You scream silently, hoping he can somehow hear you, that maybe all of your years with him would’ve granted that ability, I would never! I was doing as you said, like always!

“I was wrong earlier, wasn’t I?” Ramsay mutters, so close to you that your foreheads nearly touch. Your eyes widen slightly at his words, heart thumping in a hopeful little staccato, though he wrenches that away quickly enough, “You’re not a dog at all, no, a dog would be obedient and docile.”

Your brows knit together with confusion at his words, biting so hard into your lower lip that you’re shocked you don’t taste blood. Although, you can’t help the surprised little gasp that leaves you when his hands begin quickly tugging at the laces of your bodice as your own remain in white-knuckled fists at your sides, the whole of you determined to stay still like a statue, a plaything.

“No, you my sweet little pet,” he growls sarcastically, low voice morphing into a pleased chuckle as he tugs your bodice off; the shirt below it quickly follows and a small part of you blooms with pride at the happy little sigh he lets out at the sight of your breasts.

“You’re just a dumb puppy, aren’t you?” He chuckles against your throat, nipping at your skin more so than kissing it, although you relish the feel of his lips on you all the same. “A dumb, defiant little puppy,” he continues, hastily pulling at the ties of your skirts and you whimper despite yourself when they finally fall to the floor, pooling at your feet, “That’s in desperate need of more training.”

He stops, pausing for a mere second, and pulls back just enough to look at you, no doubt gaining satisfaction from the desperation written so plainly on your face. There’s a hunger in his cold eyes – a predator silently deciding to go for the jugular, nocking an arrow on his bow.

You whine as he properly kisses at your throat now, his hands rough against your skin as he grabs at your hips. One skims higher to cup your breast, the unexpected gentleness of his touches causes you to shiver and whine in his grasp and into his mouth as he kisses you finally, his full lips moving steadily in time with yours.

Harsh pants leave your lips as your heart pumps madly in your chest, his touches always work you up so quickly. The thought of him still being fully clothed as he left you bare and vulnerable made you hotter still; the feel of his warm leather tunic against your exposed skin, of his bloodied hands against your supple skin, drives you mad.

Before you have time to second guess your movements, you begin blindly pulling at the strings on his leather tunic, desperate to feel him against you. Surprisingly, he lets you tug it off of him, granting you a last meal of sorts, and you can’t help but to smile into the kiss, gasping into his mouth as he unbuttons his jacket himself before quickly tossing it aside as well. He’s panting nearly as harshly as you are as the two of you part long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head, your hands immediately go to his chest the second it joins the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Your eyes flicker over him as the two of you pause, the knot in your belly growing tighter at the sight of his taut stomach and chest, the low, warm glow of the many candles dotted throughout your chambers accentuating each muscular dip. Your fingers shake as they trail over him and you feel a sick sense of pride twist in your stomach at the fact that, unlike so many men, his skin isn’t mottled with years of scars and bruises. No, his is flawless, a pale, unmarred, ruthless canvas – a flawless killer.

Of course, he can’t let you have this reprieve for long. A good trainer doesn’t spoil his pet.

A soft, broken gasp leaves you as one hand wraps around your neck again, slotting perfectly against your throat like a collar, as he walks you a few paces further into the room, closer to the small hearth by the bed. “Kneel,” his command leaves no room for anything but obedience; you swallow thickly, nervously, and do as he says, lips parting ever so slightly when your knees rest on plush bear skin instead of hard stone.

A kindness, even now.

Ramsay’s lips twist into a proud grin as you stare up at him, legs folded beneath you with your hands poised perfectly on your thighs, a familiar stance he’d taught you years ago. “Good girl,” he mutters, fingers threading gently through your hair as you moan softly.

“Thank y – Ah!”

“No,” he chides harshly, tugging your head back by the roots of your hair until your neck is bared to him, your back arched, “Puppies don’t talk, dumb little thing,” he growls, shifting more closely to you in order to gain a better hold on your hair, close enough that you whimper as your front is pressed firmly against the length of his leg, the thick fabric of his trousers rough against your skin as one of his feet slots between your thighs, “A well-trained pet certainly doesn’t.”

The knot in your belly seizes at his words, aided by the laces of his leather boots brushing oh-so gently against your center, the knotted fabric sticking against the wetness already leaking from your clenching cunt. You whine, high-pitched and frantic when he clutches your hair tighter still, his fist white knuckled against the crown of your head.

“A well-trained little pet would always obey their master, wouldn’t they?” You can’t miss the breathiness of his voice now, his tone lower and smoother than it normally is, and the sound makes your hips hump against his boot before you can stop yourself, your nipples stiff, nearly aching, as they rub against his trousers.

A low, rumbled laugh echoes through your chambers when your arms wrap around his leg, fingers digging desperately into the firm muscle of his thigh. “Aww,” he coos mockingly, licking his lips as he watches you, his attention making blood rush to the apples of your cheeks, “Is my pretty little puppy getting off on this? Does your cunt drip when I tell you how stupid and worthless you are?”

The sound of your blood pumping furiously through your veins thuds in your ears, Pretty, pretty pretty!

You whine as you try to eagerly nod your head, his hold on your hair preventing you from moving much, though your hips rut steadily against his boot now – pressing tightly against the worn fabric, the knots from his laces rubbing perfectly over the throbbing little pearl at your center.

“You look like you’re having fun,” he drawls, cold eyes shining as he studies you closely, chest heaving in time with yours as his cock hardens in his pants, “Are you having fun, little one?”

Again, you try to nod, keening brokenly as your eyes stay fixed on his. You pant harshly against his leg, breath fragmented as they’re punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter and tighter with each pass of your slick center over the laces of his boot.

He knows, of course. As soon as he ordered you to stay in the kitchens with Reek this morning, he knew – knew you’d follow his orders to the letter, even if they contradicted his previous ones. He knew he’d find you there, knew he’d punish you for it, knew exactly how he wanted to break you down so that it could be him who built you back up. He’s known you the longest, you’d grown up together. He knows, of course he does. He’s nothing if not a thorough hunter.

A loud, broken whine leaves you when he flexes his foot, pressing his boot harder against you still. You’re helpless to do much else aside from stare up at him, gasping, while your hips buck against him as quickly as your sore muscles will allow, your high barreling toward you at a breakneck pace.

All of that comes to a sudden, screeching halt though when he moves again, shifting his weight until his boot is just out of reach. The sudden lack of stimulation makes your back arch further still, your muscles taut like a drawn bow.

“Oh, poor little puppy,” he laughs, watching gleefully as you whine loudly, the peak that had been so close fading away, leaving you aching, “If you thought it was going to be that easy, you haven’t been paying attention.” He taunts, crouching until he’s eye-level with you, smirking as his movements cause his pull on your hair to become tighter, making you wince, though his hand thankfully releases its grasp once he settles.

“Mmm,” you mewl softly as he caresses your breasts again, jumping slightly when he thumbs over your nipple before softly pinching at it, giving the other one the same treatment. Your eyes flutter shut as you arch your back further still, pressing against the palm of his hand as he kneads at your chest, eager for any stimulation you can get.

“Myranda was never like this,” he says suddenly, his voice low, steady, calculated. He smiles cruelly when your eyes snap open at the sound of her name, the back of your throat tight as tears already blur your vision – just like he wanted. “No, Myranda always behaved perfectly, she always did exactly what I said.”

He leans forward suddenly, the side of his face pressed firmly against yours so that when he speaks, you’re sure to hear every syllable, to feel them punctuated against the skin of your neck. “She was perfect. I never had to punish her for the same thing twice, you know. Not like I do with you.”

You shudder as his lips press against your skin again, pressing eager kisses against the wet trail of tears running down your cheek. He admires the way your shoulders shake as you sob, the way the subtle movement makes your breasts bounce, the way your cheeks flush so prettily, how your eyes always shine so brightly with fresh tears in them.

Ramsay loves breaking you – adores the moment when his arrow is finally launched free from his bow, adores the moment he sees it pierce your little heart. He loves you, in his way.

Not that he’d tell you that.

He lets you sob for a moment longer, all the while pressing hot kisses against your cheeks, relishing the salty taste of your tears as the little droplets of blood still caked to his skin mar your pretty face, staining it with delicate streaks of red. His cock twitches at the sight, black pupils nearly drowning out the blue of his eyes – maybe one day he’d bring you hunting, what a sight you’d be covered in the bright blood of a fresh kill.

“Myranda never needed training, puppy, not in the way you do,” he nearly whispers, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile as he leans back enough to grab at your chin, tilting your face up to his, “That’s what made her so boring.”

“Huh?” You breathe, sobs stalling for a second as you process what he’d just said, your obvious surprise making him laugh lowly again.

“What? Does that shock you? That I found her boring?” He questions, eyebrow raised, “Why would perfection be interesting?”

Your eyes search his face as he shifts, kneeling rather than crouching. A little glimmer of pride sparks to life within you as he kisses you again, your lips moving against his frantically, mewling when he pushes his tongue into your mouth and nips at your bottom lip.

“I never got to train her,” he breathes against your lips, grunting at the way your hands skim over his chest and stomach, grabbing at him so frantically, “I hardly got to punish her; if I gave her an order, she would follow it blindly – it made her predictable, it made her boring.”

“N-Not like me?” You whisper hopefully, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes as you pant, your chest pressed tightly to his.

“No, sweet pet, not like you,” Ramsay smiles, making your heart sing as it leaps beneath your ribs, “I get to train you, don’t I? And punish you when that little puppy brain can’t follow the simplest of orders.”

You should be offended, should feel mocked and belittled, but you don’t. Instead, you nod your head eagerly, preening like a proud little bird at his praise, because that’s what is, really. Ramsay will never be one to sing your praises softly like other men, but he admires you all the same.

Before you have time to reply, he grabs at your waist and abruptly maneuvers you, manhandling you until you’re poised on your hands and knees, cheek pressed firmly against the fur rug beneath you.

“I get to play with you, pet,” he drawls lowly, pressing a hand into the small of your back and grunting appreciatively when you arch down like he wants, licking his lips as your cunt finally comes into view, shining already in the low candlelight. He smirks at the way you moan when he presses his hard length against you, grinding against your slit, chest heaving at how warm you are even through his trousers, “Don’t I?”

“Yes!” You nod eagerly, pressing back against him like a wanton whore, nearly dizzy with need when his fingers bump against you as he quickly undoes the laces on his pants, “Yes, yes, yes, please!”

“Ohh, so you can be good, hm?” He teases, groaning in relief when he pushes his trousers down just enough to free his cock, too impatient to remove them entirely, “Seems my training’s working nicely.”

Mindlessly, you nod, willing to agree with whatever he says so long as he gets inside you.

Mercifully, you don’t have to wait long. A loud cry fills your chambers as he presses into you, the slight sting of his thick cock stretching you open making you shiver, a familiar sensation since he was rarely ever patient enough to work you open on his fingers.

Immediately, he sets a brutal pace, his hips pressing against yours tightly each time he pushes forward, the head of his cock nearly kissing your cervix with each harsh thrust. Your cunt clenches at him greedily and your hands scramble against the rug beneath you, fingers tangling into the furs, desperate for something to anchor yourself.

“Fuck, tight little cunt,” Ramsay grunts harshly above you, his hands gripping meanly at your hips, hard enough to leave bruises.

“R-Ramsay, fuck… fuck,” you whimper beneath him, your eyes squeezed shut tightly as the knot in your belly threatens to unravel, your walls pulsing rhythmically around his length each time it spears into you.

He chuckles breathlessly at your little murmurs and runs a hand up the length of your back before grabbing at the hair at the nape of your neck, relishing the little cry you give as he pulls you up until your back is pressed firmly against his chest. “Are you close already?” He mocks smugly, his fingers untangling from your hair to wrap once more around your throat as his other paws at your breasts, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples.

You swallow thickly, throat bobbing under his grip, and nod your head the best you can, grabbing at his thick forearm.

“Do you think I’m going to let you?” He teases, biting harshly at your shoulder as his hips keep up a punishing rhythm.

You nearly sob at the question, so desperate, but still you shake your head, cunt pulsing around his length. “No, n-no…” You moan mournfully, voice hoarse from his hold.

He chuckles behind you, his chest rumbling against your back as he kisses and bites at your earlobe, your shoulder, any part of your neck not covered by his hand, each touch driving you mad. “Finally, that little brain seems to be working,” he grunts, laughing lowly as he abandons your breasts long enough to slap your cheek, blessedly soft this time, “I’m having too much fun playing with you to let you go that easily,” He drawls, chuckling once more when you whine.

“In fact,” he continues, reaching down and rubbing his fingers roughly against your aching bud, just enough to make you cry out before he suddenly pulls away again, tugging his length from you as he lets you flop to the floor with a little grunt, “I want to see you do a trick,” he whispers, rubbing over your ass before smack it roughly, making you jump, “Roll over.”

“Wha –” You start to question, only to be cut off with a loud cry as his hand spanks you once more.

“Be a good fucking puppy and roll over.”

His order leaves no room for questioning and obediently, you listen and roll over onto your back with a little whimper. You keep your legs bent up when you settle, keeping yourself on display for him, clenching around nothing as you eye his hard cock bobbing against his stomach, the tip red and leaking.

“Good little pet,” he praises, his words going straight to your pearl as you shudder. Hastily, he pushes your legs up further, one hand holding you open as he presses his cock back into you, savoring your loud whine, the way your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He resumes his harsh pace, slamming into you as he chases his high now, blue eyes trailing appreciatively over your trembling body, watching as your breasts bounce with each unforgiving thrust he gives.

“Please, please, Gods, please!” You whine frantically as he presses his hips against yours, grinding into you, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your bud perfectly, “Ramsay, p-please! I – fuck!”

He laughs breathlessly at your cries and leans down when you arch your back toward him, mouthing savagely at your chest, teeth nipping at the fat of your breasts before he licks over your nipples. He knows each touch is only driving you closer and closer to your release, yet he still doesn’t give you permission, a part of him meanly hopes you’ll slip over anyway and give him another reason to punish you, like he actually needs a reason.

Still, you have been good today and he does love how willing and docile you become when you peak, so malleable – entirely submissive, entirely his.

He bites and kisses his way up along your chest and neck before licking into your mouth for a moment, eagerly swallowing each desperate little cry before grabbing at your neck once more. Greedy, he turns your head to him, needing to see that empty-headed, hazy look in your eyes when he lets you finish.

His cock jerks at the sight of you, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you try desperately to hold off, cheeks flushed, reddened lips parted. He grunts, feeling his balls tighten, his thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm.

“Cum, puppy,” he growls, forehead pressed against yours.

Your lips part in a silent curse as your high slams into you, each muscle in your body contracting at once. Your eyes bore into his wildly as your cunt spasms tightly around his cock, eyes rolling back as he fucks you through it.

“Fuck!” He grunts, growling lowly as his cock spasms within you, your walls all but milking his own high from him as well. His hips slam into you a few more times before he stills, gasping as he fills you with his spend.

The two of you lay together for a moment, panting loudly against one another. Ramsay is the first to move, shushing you as he pulls his softening length from you, making you whine.

Distantly, a part of you twists gleefully when you feel his seed drip from you, another thing he never dared do with her.

“Here,” he says softly, offering you a hand, which you gladly take, letting him help you stand since you doubt you’d be able to on your own. Finally, you stand on your feet, albeit unsteadily, and grab onto the foot of the carved wooden bedframe to steady yourself. Strangely, he stays with you, neither of you saying anything as he holds you, blue eyes studying you as they gleam with some unknown emotion.

After a moment, you try to pull away, meaning to leave as you always do, not one to wait around for his order anymore.

“Stop,” he murmurs, only pulling away once you still, “Stay.” He orders, an unfamiliar softness to his voice. Your head reels, eyes staring unfocused as you try to make sense of… whatever this is, whatever his game may be now.

He returns quickly enough, a damp cloth in his and from the small wash basin he keeps on the vanity. You reach out to grab it, to clean yourself off like you assume he wants, and yet he stops you, holding the cloth out of your grasp until you lower your hand again.

“Obedient puppies get rewards,” he says softly, all of the harshness from before absent from his tone as he answers your silent questions. You nearly freeze when he presses one small, gentle kiss against your forehead. Finally, he makes quick work of wiping between your legs, taking care to wipe away any of his spend that leaked from you.

“Thank you…” You nearly whisper, voice scratchy from his earlier treatment. That doesn’t feel like the right thing to say but if it isn’t, he doesn't say.

Silently, he cups your chin, lifting it enough to give him room to check your neck, trailing his hand over it lightly until he must be satisfied that you’re okay, that he hadn’t treated you too badly.

Kind, even still.

A few moments later, you recline in the plush bed, watching as he kicks off his boots before joining you, lying with you under the soft blankets. This part, at least, you’re used to – lying together like this but not touching, not cuddling, that’s too intimate, too close.

He hadn’t said that, wouldn’t say that, but you knew.

A surprised little gasp leaves you when he pulls you close, hands, clean now that he’d taken a moment to wash them, resting on you gently. One smoothes up and down your arm as he lets you lay against his chest, cheek pressed against his collarbone, his chin resting on your head; the other grabs at your thigh, pulling you to him until you’re tucked into his side, one leg propped over his hips.

“You did well,” he says softly, chest vibrating under your cheek as he speaks, “With your training, I mean. You did well. I’m… proud of you.”

“Thank you.”

The two of you are silent after that, neither of you knowing how to handle this new territory that you seem to be spilling into, but you don’t care, not with your heart pounding quickly in your chest. You’d think you were dying if it weren’t for the savage sense of victory threading through every inch of you.

Proud, proud, proud! The word echoes in your head with each pump of blood through your heart. It was so small, the barest of compliments, but from Ramsay it meant the world. It was something he’d said to you, only you, never to her, not once. Never to anyone else.

His chest rises and falls under your cheek, breath steady and even. He always falls asleep quickly, normally you do too. But not this time, not tonight, not wanting to let this moment fade just yet.

He loves you, in his way.

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itsgrimeytime · 6 months

Text

show me || Rick Grimes (TWD)

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

AVAILABLE ON AO3

dialogue prompts: “Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.” (2) + “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same as I do, then I’ll leave you alone.” (36) + “I’m tired of being on the sidelines.” (43)

Summary: You and Rick had something, you weren't quite sure what it was. After a few drunken mistakes during one of the dinner parties at Alexandria, Rick wants to make things crystal clear.

TWS: TENSION, blood, gore, gun violence (violence in general), alcohol, drunkness, drunken kisses, kind of dark!Rick, jealousy, possessiveness, protectiveness, all things consistent with TWD.

[[A/N: The vibes are in with this one, girlies. Kind of listened to Boyfriend by Dove Cameron for this one. SO... Be ready for that. Thanks for reading!!! ]]

Your head hurt after the night before, you couldn't quite remember why. Well, other than the drinks.

It had been the first dinner party after Alexandria, you were nervous and just kept sipping. Somebody kept giving you more, even though, you remember distinctly Rick (big hands and blue, blue eyes) warding them off. They continued when he wasn't by your side -beer after beer and maybe something... else? You couldn't really remember.

You gathered pretty quickly that Rick was mad at you that day, something about the way he composed himself -the steaming rage enveloping him, and it only continued for days.

Day after day, and nothing. Usually, you could read him like a book, but now, all you got was well, that he was mad at you. Not even to get you started on the way everyone else was distinctively ignoring your questions like Rick had told them to.

So, you stepped out of your comfort zone -you went straight to the most honest Alexandrian you knew. Or the one who would speak to you over Rick's head -Deanna.

There was something deep in your chest that told you somehow this was betrayal, but you had been driven far past that point. (One blue-eyed glare and complete head turn to ignore you past that point.)

"Hey," you spoke, a little uneasy.

"Hello, Y/N!" she smiled, big and bright, "-I'm glad to see that dinner has been going so well-"

"That's actually what I was here to talk to you about," you echoed, direct in your tone, "-last dinner party, I... I don't remember what happened."

"Nothing bad, I can assure you," she hummed, continuing to walk down the street, "-I'm well aware of anyone overstepping."

"Right, well, I'm glad, but-" you spoke, a little impatiently -eyes darting around, "-I don't remember."

"Nothing wrong with getting a little drunk," she spoke, something in her shifting, "-we understand the change is-"

"Deanna," you interrupted with finality, "-please, just tell me what happened."

She paused in her steps, turning around to fully face you -head on, and something in you shrunk at her inquisitive gaze. She looked at you a bit like a puzzle for a moment, before her eyes seemed to light up in understanding like she knew exactly what the issue was.

"Let's..." she began, slowly, "-Let's talk inside, shall we?"

You merely followed her up the steps and into her house, like a sheep to its shepherd -you were desperate. If she could help, you would just about do anything.

"I was wondering just what was with him," Deanna muttered to herself, "-makes so much sense now."

She led you to her living room, where the room was much the same in her own home, but she had photos -framed and set pristinely of faces you didn't quite know. Ones you doubted you ever would.

"Sit," she motioned, "-we have much to discuss."

"Much?" you questioned.

"Well, no, it's-" she started, but faltered for a moment, "-rather complicated."

"Complicated?" you questioned further, raising your voice.

"Look, I'm going to just tell you to avoid any further confusion. You kissed someone, can't remember who now-"

You paused, faltering for a minute, "That's it?"

"Rick saw," she finished as if it was some big reveal.

You and Rick had a thing, a very slight thing that neither of you had really even commented on or talked about. Hell, you hadn't even kissed the guy, but there was something there, a deep buzz under your skin. And something in the apocalypse was something, sure, but not if he didn't talk to you about it. Not if he-

You stopped your train of thought, "So?"

"Aren't you-" she seemed to pause, being taken off guard, "-Aren't the two of you together?"

"I'm sorry?" you asked, "-No, we're not... not really. He doesn't- It doesn't matter, drunkenly kissing a guy is no reason to get this pissy."

"It is if you're together."

"Deanna," you started, "-don't push your luck. Look, I have to go sort this out, do you-"

"Oh, no, please," she answered, quickly, "-I can't get a word in with the man right now. Fix it, go."

That's how you wound up here, ready at his door -he couldn't ignore you at his own home. You'd get him to listen.

"Rick," you addressed, direct as soon as the door opened and you saw the blue of his eyes, "-hey."

He seemed to still at your voice -frozen for a moment, before wordlessly moving around the kitchen. He was gathering up dishes, at a sure pace before, but now he'd begun much faster. As if he was trying to get away from you.

"Alright, enough-" you said, waltzing up to him, and turning his face to yours, "-why are you mad?"

Rick looked at you for a moment, and something in you almost grew shy at the attentiveness. Blue eyes dashing along your face like you were fresh water and he had been stranded in the desert.

And then, he stopped. Lifting his soapy hands to take yours off his face -a slow, gentle movement. The opposite of someone mad, you noted.

"Do we need to talk 'bout this?" He echoed, a little helplessly if you were honest.

"I don't know," you answered, "-you tell me. Can you not be mad if we don't talk about this?"

"I'm not," he sighed, turning back to the dishes -this time doing them leisurely, "-I'm not mad. I just..."

"You just what?" You asked, pointedly.

"I just think you can choose better people to kiss," he grumbled out so low you weren't even sure you'd heard him correctly.

But something in you fired off like a rocket.

"Seriously?!" You yelled out, a sort of toned frustrated yell, but still a yell, "-you are pissed because you don't approve?"

"That's not-"

"Well, I got good news for ya, Sheriff, I don't even remember who I kissed last night-"

"That's because he made ya so drunk-"

"-And on top of that, I can kiss who I want, when I want. It's not like you have any control over that-"

"I want to," he grumbled out, even lower.

You stilled, "I'm sorry...?"

He didn't speak for a moment, washing the soap off his hands -you watched the water trail down to his elbow. Scrubbing away at the dish towel, he dried them and turned to face you.

Rick's steps were slow and sure, you could hear the clink of the tile under his boot. And your heart started pounding with anticipation, maybe he was mad. Why was he getting so close-

He was just in front of you now, finger trailed under your chin, "Tell me to stop, if you don't want this."

You turned your head down to look at the tile, something in your breath catching that you could barely breathe. You just needed a second-

He flicked your eyes back to him, and you could feel his breaths on your lips, "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel the same as I do, then I'll leave you alone."

"Rick-"

He raised an eyebrow, "I asked a question, Y/N."

"How do you feel?"

He roamed closer, eyes dashing between the two of yours and your lips, "I think you know, sweetheart."

You opened your mouth.

"But," he interrupted, "-if ya insist."

Rick pulled back slightly, hand leaving its trail to, instead, hold your wrists -gently, as his thumbs rubbed into your wrists. With another breath, he kissed your palms -pressing his lips there ever so slightly.

"I'm tired of being on the sidelines," he spoke, low and soft, "-I... I want it to be us. Together."

"Together?" You echoed.

"Like you stay in my house, you sleep in my bed, we go to dinners together instead of so... so far apart-"

"And you can tell me who to kiss?" You added, playfully.

"And I'm the only one you can kiss," he corrected with the smallest of grins, but there was something hard in his eyes. Something serious.

"So," you spoke, expectantly, "-kiss me then. So, I can see what I'm stuck with."

"Stuck?" He laughed, slowly leaning in, "-Oh darlin' you're gonna be far from stuck."

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #rick grimes oneshot #protective!rick #possessive!rick #dont let me in

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yelena-bellova · 1 year

Text

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten: September 26th, 2003

Plot: There are very few tragedies in life that come with warning.

Word Count: 12.8k (longest chapter yet)

Warnings: tlou ep.1 spoilers, language, canon-typical violence, gore, blood, guns, death, loss of a child, injuries, implied smut (16+)

A/N: Well, we’ve arrived at that fateful chapter…this took so long to even be emotionally able to write. There are so many small details that I hope people catch, and plenty of things to remember for future chapters.

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist unless your age/range is specified in your bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

I hope y’all enjoy this one, and thank you so much for all the kind words, theories and general love I receive throughout the week 💞

————————

September 26th, 2003. Austin, Texas.

There are very few tragedies in life that come with warning.

Families of the terminally ill are given a vague timeline of when they’ll lose their loved one.

Soldiers are told before marching into battle that they may lose their life.

But a car crash does not announce itself before causing the collision.

A heart attack doesn’t prepare its victim before it steals their breath.

Nor did Cordyceps feel it owed the world any notice before it arrived.

On the morning of September 26th, Y/n was awoken by strips of sunlight coming through the blinds of Joel’s bedroom window. She was the early riser out of the two and she never minded, it gave her more time to admire the handsome lump weighing her down.

Y/n brushed a strand of hair off her boyfriend’s forehead and pressed a feather light kiss to it. Joel didn’t wake easily, but she liked to say she at least tried the sweet way before having to go nuclear. She gently rubbed his back, running her palm up and down the warm skin, but it only made him settle deeper into her chest. Y/n smiled and shook her head, knowing that in mere seconds….

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

It truly was miraculous how deep Joel could go into his rest. Y/n rolled her eyes and tried to reach across the pillows to switch off the clock, her fingers wiggling in the air as she strained. With his arms firmly wrapped around Y/n’s body, Joel didn’t even budge.

Finally, salvation came in the form of Sarah banging on the bedroom door, jolting Joel awake.

“Alarm,” the girl called, raising her voice the second time, “Alarm!”

“Thank you,” Y/n called back.

Joel rolled over, barely aware of his surroundings, and switched off the clock. He pushed up on one arm and turned back to his girlfriend, watching him with a smirk.

“What?”

Y/n shook her head, “You must be great in emergencies.”

Joel rubbed at his eyes, “Maybe I’m a little tired because someone wore me out last night.”

“Oh, don’t blame me for this,” Y/n laughed, “A year and a half and I’ve never seen you wake up when your alarm goes off. Not once.”

Joel looked down at her, squinting from the sunlight, a small smile playing on his lips, “Maybe I hear it, but there’s a more compellin’ reason to ignore it.”

He slipped back down into the sheets, resting his head once again on Y/n’s chest.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Y/n began to shimmy out of his arms, “We gotta get up.”

Joel tightened his hold around her torso, “My birthday, I make the rules.”

“No, it’s your birthday and Sarah and I make the rules,” Y/n corrected. Joel had never been one for celebrating the day, meaning it was up to Sarah and Y/n to make the day special, “What you want actually ranks very low on the list.”

Joel was paying very little attention to his girlfriend’s words, trailing a line of kisses up the chest of his t-shirt she was wearing and across her neck. “Five minutes,” he mumbled against her skin.

“No,” Y/n denied, her pulse speeding up the further his lips travelled.

“Yes,” Joel ignored her protests, making his way up to where her jawline met her ear.

“No,” Y/n laughed, her words not lining up with her reaction as she ran a hand over Joel’s hair.

“Say it again, honey,” Joel whispered against her ear, “And mean it.”

Y/n was teetering on the edge of letting him take what he wanted, but her loyalty to Joel’s daughter won out. “Sarah’s cooking you breakfast,” she said, slipping her hand between their chests, “And I’m not gonna be the one to tell her that her dad missed out on her efforts because he was horny.”

Joel snorted, dropping his head and laughing against Y/n’s chest.

Y/n pulled his face up to hers and laid a kiss on his lips, “Happy Birthday.”

“Just another reminder I’m gettin’ old,” Joel grumbled.

“True,” Y/n smiled, taking his scratchy cheeks into her palms, “But you’re my old man.”

Joel chortled, running his hands over Y/n’s body one last time before reluctantly rolling off of her. Their day had to begin, whether he wanted it to or not…

The two got dressed for work, while Y/n hadn’t officially moved in with the Millers, it was her second home. She kept practically one of everything in Joel’s room because of how often she slept over.

Y/n was the first of them down the stairs, landing in the kitchen where Sarah was already laying strips of bacon in a pan, “Can you take this so I can get the eggs?”

“You got it,” Y/n responded, switching places with the girl.

Sarah opened the fridge doors, getting a whiff of the inside, “When was the last time we cleaned this out?”

“Uh, two weeks ago, I think,” Y/n replied.

“Well, something died in it recently,” Sarah stated, grabbing a bowl to whisk the eggs in.

Sarah and Y/n’s relationship had stayed as steady as her and Joel’s. She’d expected some sort of pushback eventually, Sarah had just hit the teenage years, but it had yet to come. Y/n theorized it was because the young girl was just happy to have a woman in her life, but she felt like that was giving herself too much credit.

With the protein cooking on the stove, Sarah started searching through the cabinets. Joel had just come downstairs, still buckling his belt.

“Where’s the pancake mix?” Sarah asked her dad.

Still groggy, Joel scrunched his brows. “Oh, I was-” he’d forgotten the trip to the store he was supposed to take the night before, “Yeah, I was. Sorry.”

“I was gonna make you birthday pancakes,” his daughter complained, marching to the fridge and muttering to herself, “I swear…”

Joel ignored the smell of the food cooking and headed straight for the coffee pot, “You know, I don’t really like pancakes.”

“I know you don’t,” Sarah replied, pouring a glass of orange juice, “It was for my and Y/n’s benefit.”

“We’ll survive,” Y/n said, working on the eggs while Sarah was away, “Though pancakes are a weird thing to not like.”

Joel bristled at his girlfriend’s remark, turning around and facing Sarah with the glass of juice extended towards him.

“Vitamin C,” she explained.

For as much as Joel took care of his daughter, the roles were beginning to shift the older they both got. Sarah could spot his bad habits and tried to fix them wherever she could, the biggest one being his lack of actual nutrition. The man existed on coffee.

Joel took the glass from her, setting his mug down and humoring Sarah with a sip.

Y/n chuckled as she watched his expression turn sour, “Look more enthusiastic. I dare you.”

Joel grimaced, proceeding to pick up the coffee as soon as Sarah was back at the stove.

“You get your, uh, homework done?” Joel asked Sarah, waiting for her smile when she turned around, “Fractions?”

Sarah laughed, it was fact not only that she was ahead of her classmates, but Y/n was her tutor when it came to math. Joel wanted nothing to do with the subject.

Y/n and Sarah plated the feast and the three of them sat down at the table, as they did most mornings. Between Y/n and Joel’s work schedules and Sarah’s extracurriculars, it was the only guaranteed time they had each day to spend together.

“How old are you again?” Sarah asked her dad.

“Thirty-six,” Joel answered with a mouthful of egg.

“Gonna have to start wearing diapers soon,” Sarah joked, her tone remaining remarkably even.

”Who says I don’t already?” Joel replied, it wasn’t hard to track where Sarah’d gotten her humor from. He proceeded to pick something out of his teeth, looking to his daughter, “Shell.”

“Calcium,” she said, grinning wide with a mouthful of eggs on display.

“Lovely,” Joel muttered, looking over at Y/n as she laughed, “You’re encouragin’ bad table manners.”

Y/n shrugged and held her coffee mug to her lips, ”I see it as supporting a potential future as a comedian.”

The truck engine in the driveway signaled that Tommy was there to pick his brother and Y/n up for the day.

“Is there enough for Uncle Tommy?” Joel asked Sarah.

“There would’ve been,” Sarah grumbled into her plate, still bitter about the lack of pancakes.

“I can whip him up something, if we’ve got time,” Y/n offered.

Joel shook his head, “Nah, we gotta get going.”

Tommy entered through the garage door, the most carefree of them all. “Ay,” he clasped Joel’s shoulder, “You’re still alive, you old fucker.”

“Language,” Y/n chastised, she’d been trying for months to curb Tommy’s soldier’s mouth around Sarah. It wasn’t working.

“Aw,” Sarah cooed to Joel, “He loves you.”

“He’s dependent on me,” Joel watched his brother begin to raid his kitchen, “Not the same.”

Sarah shrugged, “I think it’s the same.”

“It’s definitely the same,” Tommy said, examining the countertops for food, “I thought we was havin’ pancakes.”

“The age started to take his memory last night,” Y/n’s tone turned serious as she pressed a hand to Joel’s bicep, “We’re meeting him where he is.”

Joel’s smirk contradicted the glare he shot his girlfriend, letting her hand stay on his arm through the teasing. “We’ll pick you up somethin’ on the road,” he addressed Tommy, “Concrete guys gonna be there?”

“Yeah, they said maybe,” Tommy replied as he opened up the fridge.

“‘Maybe?’” Joel echoed, “We can’t frame until we pour. We’re not gettin’ paid until we frame.”

Tommy started sniffing through various leftovers, “Well, we could bring someone else on, get the job done faster.”

“No, no,” Joel shook his head and cut up another bite of eggs, “I’m not splittin’ this job, I barely wanna split it with you. We could work a double.”

Sarah and Y/n both turned to him.

“Literally?” Sarah asked, “Today?”

“Joel, come on,” Y/n agreed, “Not today.”

“I know,” Joel was quick to remedy the moment, “I’d be done by nine,” he called to Tommy, “By nine, right?”

Sarah gazed across the table to Y/n, the two of them sharing a disbelieving look.

“I’ll bring back a cake,” Joel looked between the girls, “I promise.”

Y/n sighed, holding her coffee cup to her chest. Joel had been pulling double shifts more and more recently. She’d been meaning to talk to him about it, how she and Sarah had been missing him, but she was in no position to stop him from working. Money was tight and contract work was never a sure thing.

A news broadcast broke up the top 40 station Sarah had turned the radio on to while cooking. “Continued disturbances in Jakarta…” the voice announced, the clinking of silverware against plates breaking it up, “But are advising U.S. citizens-“

“Jakarta?” Joel repeated, “Where is that? Middle East?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Tommy shook his head, holding a coffee cup, “It’s definitely a country. Or maybe a part of Asia?”

Y/n smiled and tilted her head at Sarah, who was already prepared to answer.

“Jakarta isn’t a country,” she interjected, “Being a part of Asia isn’t mutually exclusive with being a country and in fact, it’s the capital of Indonesia.”

“That’s my girl,” Y/n said proudly.

“Shit,” Tommy grinned, “Hope for us yet.”

Joel took a final sip of his coffee before slapping his hand against his bare wrist, still expecting his broken watch to be there. He, instead, dug into his pocket checked the time on his cell phone.

“All right,” he announced to his daughter, collecting his and Y/n’s plates, “Finish up quick. We’ll drop you off.”

“I’m still eating my eggshells,” Sarah said.

“You got seven minutes,” Joel replied, dumping the dishes in the sink for later.

“Your t-shirt’s inside out.”

Joel looked down, deflated at the trip he now had to make back upstairs, “Shit.”

Sarah waited till he was out of the room and cocked a suspicious eyebrow at Y/n.

“Pop that thing down, missy,” Y/n pointed downwards, “Your dad just pays shockingly little attention for someone who works with power tools.”

Tommy smiled over the wings he’d taken for himself, “He’s losin’ it.”

Y/n laughed and nudged Sarah’s leg, “C’mon, finish up.”

Sarah scooped the last bite of egg into her mouth and handed her plate to Y/n, who brushed past Tommy on her way to the sink. She reversed a few steps to get a whiff of the chicken.

“Found the smell,” she called out to Sarah, patting Tommy’s shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Stomach of steel,” he replied, setting his plate on the edge of the sink and planting a kiss on Y/n’s cheek. The two of them had become as good as siblings.

Y/n climbed up the stairs and down the hall to Joel’s room. He emerged just as she approached, brushing his hand across her hip as they passed one another. As much as they both loved pouring out the fullness of their affection, the casual intimacies were their favorites.

Grabbing her keys and wallet off Joel’s dresser, Y/n peeked out the window and waited till she saw Joel outside with Tommy. “Sarah,” she called down the hall.

Sarah tiptoed her way in, just to be safe, “Good?”

“Yep,” Y/n nodded.

Sarah found the assigned drawer, digging through Joel’s possessions to pull out his broken watch. She’d developed the plan to fix it as a birthday present last month and had gotten Y/n in on it.

“You’ve got the money?” Sarah checked.

Y/n flipped through the bills in her wallet, “Should be enough.”

Sarah thumbed through Joel’s cash and pulled out a few extra, smiling mischievously, “Now we can be sure.”

“Sarah! Y/n!” Joel called from the truck, Tommy was honking the horn.

Slipping the watch into her backpack, Sarah and Y/n quickly left the bedroom and headed down the stairs. Y/n hung back to make sure the coffee pot and stove were off before exiting out the front door. From the porch, she could see Sarah was in conversation with Mr. Adler next door. Or rather, dodging conversation.

“Make ‘em happy,” Joel encouraged, passing Y/n to grab another load of tools.

“I could come by after school, but just for like, a little bit,” Sarah offered.

“She’ll take what you got,” Mr. Adler replied as he fed his elderly mother-in-law, “Y’all can bake or whatever. Speakin’ of,” the man held up a plate, “We got a lotta extra here, y’all want some biscuits?”

“Dad,” Sarah masterfully tossed the ball to Joel, “You love biscuits.”

“I do,” Joel replied cheerily, “But Y/n’s got me on Atkins.”

Y/n snorted, watching the exchange go down from the bed of the truck.

“On what now?” Mr. Adler asked.

“It’s uh-“ Joel stopped himself, “You know, we gotta run but Sarah’ll be by later. She’ll stay as long as you want,” he smiled genuinely to his neighbors and smugly to his daughter, “Tell you all about Atkins.”

“Great, I’ll let Connie know,” Mr. Adler called back as Joel took Y/n’s hand and led her around the truck, “Hey, Y/n, you’re invited too.”

She peeked over the truck’s flatbed, “I’ll be working, but I’ll come grab Sarah on my way home.”

“Thank you,” Sarah smiled at her dad’s girlfriend, glaring at her father himself, “Solid.”

Joel held the door open for them, smirking at Y/n. “Thirty minutes, then you can rescue her,” he instructed.

“I never suggested Atkins,” she replied, sliding into the backseat beside Sarah.

“Can’t tell you how exciting it was listenin’ to that fuckin’ conversation,” Tommy commented, his speech molding around the cigarette between his lips.

“Put that out,” Joel said, a second before Y/n could form the same words.

Tommy flicked the smoke out onto the driveway, “Happy birthday to you.”

The truck pulled out into the cul-de-sac, carrying each of them off to their separate days.

Once Sarah had been dropped off at school and Y/n at the hardware store, Joel and Tommy headed across town to their construction site.

“Y’all got plans for tonight?” Tommy asked as they rode.

“If I don’t bring a cake home, they’re gonna string me up,” Joel answered, “Other than that, nothin’.”

His brother chuckled, “Least they gang up on you together. I got a buddy who just brought his girl home, his kid can’t stand her.”

Joel wasn’t an idiot, he knew how lucky he was that his girlfriend and daughter got along. No, they did better than just get along. They were practically inseparable. He’d take as much shit as they could give him, so long as they did it together.

“When’re you gonna marry that girl?”

It wasn’t the first time Tommy had asked that question. It had been increasing in frequency over the last few months. After they’d passed their one year anniversary, it became a thought consuming more and more space in Joel’s mind. It had taken enough time to sort out his thoughts and fears on the subject of going into marriage again, but it had been something that week that had settled him on the matter.

Monday night, Y/n had dropped by after her shift to help Sarah with homework. Joel had been at work, but when he got home, he expected to see them waiting for him at the kitchen table. Finding only silence, he climbed the stairs and peeked into Sarah’s room. Y/n was sitting against the headboard of Sarah’s bed, the young girl tucked into her shoulder, the math homework spread across their laps.

In the seemingly meaningless display of affection, Joel saw so much more. He saw the rest of his life. He could finally give Sarah a crucial piece of happiness that she’d been deprived of. He could have the love he’d craved and denied himself for so many years. The three of them, a family.

He was going to ask Y/n to marry him that weekend.

“I was gonna head to that place in the mall tomorrow morning,” Joel replied, his fingers rubbing together in anticipation. The last few weeks of working double shifts would pay off if he could find the perfect ring.

“Oh, shit,” Tommy grinned, “You’re actually doin’ it.”

“No reason to wait,” he said, staring ahead as if he could see his bright future.

“Think she’ll say yes?” Tommy asked, practically bleeding from the daggers Joel shot at him. He heartily laughed, “You get Sarah’s blessin’?”

A small smile stretched across Joel’s lips, “I know I already got it. But yeah, I’m gonna show her the ring, ask her officially.”

“Girl’s not gonna say no,” Tommy replied, making a turn onto the street the construction site was on, “She’s as crazy about her as you are.”

Joel couldn’t see any reason why Sarah would reject Y/n, she liked her better than she did Joel half the time. But he’d still never make such a big decision without consulting his daughter.

“You fucker,” Tommy chuckled, smacking Joel’s chest, “Won the damn lottery.”

Joel smiled out the window, he knew it too.

——————

Y/n’s day went by as slow as possible. She kept moving around the hardware store, helping employee and customer alike with anything they needed. All she needed was to stay busy until 3PM when she’d clock out an hour early, pick Sarah up at the house and they’d head downtown to the watch repair shop.

She absentmindedly spinning down one of the aisles, passing Melinda, one of her co-workers.

“Head outta the clouds, kid,” she chuckled.

“I’m on the ground,” Y/n replied, doing another twirl, “I just need this fucking day to end.”

Melinda went back to hanging inventory, “You and Joel got big plans tonight?”

“I was gonna grill us up some steaks,” she shrugged, “Cake. He’ll get squirmy if Sarah and I spoil him too much.”

“I got a question,” Melinda rested her arm on a shelf, “And if it’s too personal, you tell me. I won’t care, but you can tell me.”

Y/n giggled, “Okay.”

“Are you two ever gonna get married?”

Y/n’s movements came to a stop in the middle of the aisle. She’d been thinking more and more about what it might look like to marry Joel. It wasn’t like she was daydreaming about meaningless details like what dress she’d wear or what color roses would serve as centerpieces. She thought about waking up in Joel’s arms every morning, cooking breakfast for Sarah, being there for every moment, big or small. That was what she cared about.

Joel had eventually opened up to her about his ex-wife and what her abandonment had done to both him and Sarah. Y/n knew it was a scar that was as healed as it could be. She would never rush Joel into making a decision about their future, but she’d have been lying if she’d said she didn’t want to eventually wear his ring on her finger.

“I’m not sure,” she answered honestly.

“Well, he needs to lock you down,” Melinda pointed towards Y/n with a hammer, “My cousin, came in last week, got one look at you, he’s been asking me for your number all week.”

Y/n laughed, “Ring or no ring, I’m locked down. This is it for me.”

The women turned their attention down the aisle to a man, taking sloppy steps down the aisle. It was barely two in the afternoon, a little early to already be drunk, but Texas took the rules of happy hour very loosely.

Melinda groaned, “Ugh, you want me to take him?”

“No, I got it,” Y/n put on her cheery voice and walked up to the customer, “Can I help you find any-“

The man spun to face her, snarling, and took a swing at Y/n. She jumped back just in time.

“What the f-“

Growling, he charged towards her again, this time using her shock against her and tackling her to the floor. Y/n screamed, shoving her hands against his chest in an effort to push him off of her.

“Fuck!” Melinda yelled, pulling at the guy’s legs, “Help! We need help!”

Y/n stared into the man’s eyes, they were glazed over entirely, filled with pure, animalistic rage. He snarled and bit at the air before wrapping his hand around her neck. She used all her strength to push him away, her breath stuck in her throat. He lunged to burrow his face where his hand lay, Y/n couldn’t get him off her, but she kept him from getting any closer.

The manager, Don, sprinted down the aisle with a few other guys and pulled the attacker off of Y/n. The man fought back, growling and clawing relentlessly at her. One of the employees dropped him on the ground and sat on him, ensuring he didn’t go anywhere.

Y/n scrambled to her feet, Don came to embrace her.

“You okay?”

She was fighting to catch her breath, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“I’m callin’ the police,” Melinda announced, rushing off to the phone at the front desk.

“What happened?” Don asked, moving to hold Y/n’s arms.

“I-I don’t know,” she ran a hand through her hair, “He came down the aisle and just lunged at me. I-I just offered to help him.”

With the man still fighting to break out of his hold, making sounds that made him seem possessed, Don pulled Y/n out of the aisle.

“I’m sorry, Don,” Y/n apologized, her voice still trembling.

“You got nothin’ to be sorry for, sweetheart,” he quickly shook his head, “Men gotta learn they can’t go gettin’ rough on a woman just cause they’ve had a bad day.”

The police arrived within ten minutes, running down the aisle and cuffing the monstrous man. Y/n stayed far away from her attacker as he was dragged out of the store, residing between Melinda and Don. She’d been asked if she wanted to press charges, but she declined. She just wanted the whole thing to be over.

“Take off now,” Don offered after the officers left.

“No, I-I’m okay,” Y/n smoothed her apron down with shaking hands.

“Don’t even try,” Don shook his head, “Get on out of here.”

Y/n took the first breath she could actually feel, wasting no time in dashing back to the break room and grabbing her purse out of her locker. She wanted to be as far away from anything about the afternoon as she could. Plus, it would mean she could pick Sarah up straight from school instead of the Adlers.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Y/n bid her co-workers farewell on the way out.

Don rasied a hand alongside Melinda, “See ya tomorrow. Wish Joel a happy birthday from us!”

The mention of his name got a smile out of Y/n, “I will.”

With Joel and Tommy having dropped her off, she had to call a cab to take her back to her apartment. She held in her tears until the front door was locked and she knew she was safe.

Why hadn’t she fought back? Fought harder? She was great with her words, but she’d never been able to physically defend herself. In the world they lived in, it was becoming more and more necessary for a woman to be able to throw a punch. Y/n felt weak for not fighting for her safety with the ferocity that Joel or Tommy would have. It just wasn’t in her nature to be violent, even if her own life was on the line.

She managed to collect herself, drying her tears and heading back down to her car. She was determined to put the incident behind her and not let it ruin her day.

Y/n parked directly outside the front of the school so Sarah couldn’t miss her. She waited against the car door, tapping her heel against the asphalt until a barrage of kids came pouring out of the building. Sarah clocked her just before she headed for the bus.

“I thought you were picking me up at home,” she called across the street.

“My shift ended early,” Y/n explained, excluding the reason why.

Sarah opened the passenger side door and jumped in, “Can we grab ice cream or something after?”

“Nice try,” Y/n started up her car, “I’m dropping you off at the Adler’s after this.”

Sarah let her head fall against her seat, with a small groan.

“Half an hour and then there’ll be some big birthday emergency,” Y/n offered, turning onto the next street over, “Seatbelt.”

It was these small domestic moments that showed just how good of a parent Y/n would make. She still didn’t believe she was doing anything exceptional, but the smallest acts of care meant the most. Making sure Sarah walked on the inside of the street, making sure she’d eaten enough, helping her with homework…all of that equated to Sarah knowing she had someone else looking out for her.

They made it downtown to the jewelry-clock repair shop within minutes. Their part of Austin was small enough that everything was five minutes away.

The owner at the front counter examined Joel’s watch, “Twenty.”

“That’s it?” Sarah asked, surprised.

“Okay,” the man smiled, “Thirty.”

“My little negotiator,” Y/n looked down at Sarah, smirking, “Let’s stick with twenty.”

“It’s a spring,” he explained as Sarah pulled out the twenty she’d taken from Joel, “I’ll do it right now.”

Y/n put an arm around Sarah’s shoulders and tugged her into her side, the two of them absentmindedly hugging as they glanced around the store. Behind them, a line of police cars followed by a fire truck sped down the street. It pulled Y/n back to an hour before.

“All day, I swear,” a woman emerged from the shop’s back room, switching between speaking in English and Arabic, “We’re closing.”

“It’s 3:15,” the owner responded, “We close at 7.”

The woman anxiously stood at the window, staring down the street. She lapsed back into Arabic as she addressed her partner, before putting her hands on Y/n and Sarah’s arms, “I’m very sorry, he cannot finish.”

“I already finished,” the man replied, holding out the boxed watch to his wife.

She pressed the box into Y/n’s hands, “You should go home.”

“W-wait,” Y/n stuttered as the woman rushed them out of the shop, “Wh-“

“Go home,” the woman urged, staring into Y/n’s eyes with a desperation a child could never understand.

She shut the door on Y/n and Sarah, flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ after and pulling the blinds.

“That was weird,” Sarah muttered.

“Yeah,” Y/n watched as the woman continued shutting the blinds in the windows.

Successful in their quest, Y/n and Sarah loaded themselves back in the car and headed home. On the way, they passed four more police cars and one more fire engine. Austin had its fair share of crime, especially downtown, but this was out of the ordinary.

“What do you think’s going on?” Sarah asked at one point.

“No idea,” Y/n answered, pulling them into the driveway of Joel’s home and unbuckling, “I’ll check the news. Go be a good person.”

“I’m timing you,” Sarah said firmly.

Y/n smiled, “Go.”

Sarah dragged herself and her backpack out of the car and trudged across the Adler’s lawn. Y/n watched her lovingly, she had the biggest heart of anyone she knew, it was just butting heads with teenage hormones.

Y/n let herself into the Miller’s house, her body relaxing as soon as the door shut. She kicked off her sneakers and headed for the living room, switching on the television. She changed the channel to the local news station, expecting to see a fire or mass shooting. All the anchors said was that there had been reports of heightened violence throughout the day and that citizens should avoid going downtown. That lined up with what Y/n had experienced at the store, apparently the city of Austin was acting like a collective asshole.

Satisfied, Y/n busied herself with laundry and taking care of the dishes from breakfast until she scanned the clock, seeing it was ten past the time she said she’d pick Sarah up at.

She went outside, crossed the shared lawn and knocked on the Adler’s front door. Connie was the one to open it.

“Well, there she is,” the woman exclaimed, “Come in!”

They entered into the hallway, which smelled like cookies and mothballs, and Y/n spotted Sarah sitting in the kitchen, bag packed and a barely concealed frown on her face.

“I’m sendin’ you two home with some cookies,” Connie said, bustling around the kitchen for a Ziploc, “They’re raisin.”

“Oh, yay,” Y/n feigned excitement, following her in and stroking a hand across Sarah’s hair, “Those’re Joel’s favorite.”

Sarah fought the laugh caught in her throat, Joel would’ve rather died than touch anything with raisins in it.

Connie handed Y/n the bag and took her other hand, “You tell him happy birthday from us.”

“We will,” Y/n smiled before they headed down the hall and to the door.

“Wait,” Sarah mumbled just as they were walking out. She stopped to see Mercy, the Adler’s dog, whining at Nana Adler, seated in her chair as usual.

“Dogs are super tuned into their owners,” Y/n explained, “Some studies suggest that they can sense if their person’s in pain.”

Sarah hummed and accepted the answer, exiting out the front door with Y/n. “You were late,” she stated.

“I was doing your laundry,” Y/n replied, dipping her hand along Sarah’s through a lawn sprinkler, “So I’d say we’re even.”

The sun was just setting, a warm pink taking over the sky as night’s opening act. Kids, home from school, were playfully screaming a few houses down. Everything felt perfectly in place.

An overhead thundering encroached on the peaceful scene, drawing Sarah and Y/n’s attention skyward. Three fighter jets in formation blew over their heads, flying in the general direction of downtown.

“Air Force base isn’t too far from here,” Y/n commented, it was the only explanation that made sense.

Sarah didn’t seem too concerned, cutting ahead across the lawn and up to the front porch.

Inside, Y/n busied herself with cooking dinner while Sarah sat at the table finishing up homework. The steaks she’d bought a few days prior had gone bad, and she was searching the fridge for anything she could turn into something special.

Pressing her forehead to the appliance’s cool steel, she admitted defeat.

“You know Dad’s not picky,” Sarah tried to comfort her.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to do something nice for him,” Y/n replied, kicking her foot lightly against the fridge, “But I suppose ordering Chinese is just as special.”

“We could always run by the store,” Sarah suggested.

“Mm-mm,” Y/n shook her head, digging through the takeout menu drawer, “No one’s going anywhere while there’s all those cops on the road.”

They ended up ordering enough for themselves, Joel and Tommy, if he decided to stay for dinner. As the night went on, the food grew cold, and by eight o’clock, Y/n and Sarah grew too hungry to wait and sat on the couch with their cartons.

“If he’s home by nine,” Sarah thought the next part of her sentence over carefully, “I’ll give you a whole week off of helping me with my homework.”

“Doesn’t feel like much of a win,” Y/n shrugged, picking at another piece of orange chicken. They were coming up with bets for when they thought Joel would actually return home, “I don’t mind being on homework duty.”

“Okay, fine, um…” Sarah continued drafting, snapping her chopsticks together, “I’ll do the dishes for a week. Every load.”

Y/n waved a chopstick at the girl, “Done. But if he’s home past nine, I will…get him to learn one of the Halican Drops’ songs,” she tilted her head, “That’s a win for you and will definitely cost me.”

Sarah laughed, “Deal.”

They spent the evening talking and watching tv, the later hours eventually tiring them. Sarah leaned up against Y/n, lost in a magazine while Y/n read a book she’d left on the coffee table. The television played lightly in the background, though they’d stopped paying attention long ago.

Eventually, five after ten, a pair of keys jingled in the front door lock, signaling Sarah had won the bet.

“You locked the door this time,” Joel said, addressing his daughter, “Good job.”

“Yeah,” Sarah switched off the tv and sat up, “Y/n reminded me.”

Y/n scooted over to give Joel a spot on the couch, he flopped down on the cushions, digging his palms into his eyes.

“It’s 10,” Sarah said what they were all thinking.

“I know,” Joel groaned, pulling back up to take off his boots, “They…gave us the wrong size for the headers,” he looked over his girlfriend to Sarah, “That doesn’t mean anything to you, barely means anything to Y/n. I’m sorry.”

Y/n’s fingers walked across Joel’s leg, “And dessert would be…?”

Joel slumped forward, “Shit.”

“Come on, man,” Sarah bemoaned.

“I’ll get us one tomorrow,” Joel promised for the second time that day.

“Swear,” Sarah replied, “Or you don’t get your present.”

Joel turned, brightening up adorably fast. “You got me a present?”

“Swear,” Sarah continued.

Y/n smiled, eyeing her boyfriend with the same loving frustration as Sarah.

“On my life,” Joel swore.

Deeming it an acceptable answer, Sarah rotated and dug behind a pillow. Joel slid his hand over Y/n’s, flattening it down against his knee.

Sarah presented the box, holding it out to her dad.

“Wow,” Joel said, making a theatrical face before opening it. He hadn’t expected what was inside.

“Fixed it for you,” Sarah beamed with reserved pride.

Joel ran a thumb over the watch and held it to his ear, furrowing his brows, “Did you?”

“What?” Sarah reached for his hand.

“I don’t hear anything,” Joel continued.

“It was working four hours ago,” Y/n exclaimed, adjusting herself to sit up and examine it for herself.

The two girls barely had to raise it to their ears before they could hear the strong ticking. Sarah groaned and lightly shoved Joel, who was heartily laughing.

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Screw you, man.”

“That was lame,” Sarah smiled, “You’re lame.”

“Yeah, I know,” Joel chuckled, taking another second to admire his gift, “Where’d you get the money for this?”

“Drugs,” Sarah answered, “I sell hardcore drugs.”

“It’s better than what I do,” Joel slipped the watch onto his wrist.

“It was only $20, which I stole from you.”

“Which I had,” Y/n interjected, “If you’d have given me two seconds...”

“I could have stolen $60, but I put the change back,” Sarah defended herself against Joel’s parental stare, “Because I’m an honest thief. Besides, it’s the thought that counts. And you were never gonna do it for yourself, so…”

Joel, never one to be selfish, looked on lovingly at his daughter and co-conspirator, before turning his head downward. “Thank you.”

Sarah smiled, looking to Y/n victoriously. “Oh, there’s one more,” she dug behind the pillow once again and retrieved a DVD case, “Borrowed it from the Adlers.”

Joel wasted no time in taking it from her, it was Curtis and Viper, the guiltiest of all guilty pleasure movies. “Oh, this is the one with the deleted scenes.”

“Yeah, imagine how bad those have to be,” Sarah commented, “Come on, pop it in, while it’s still your birthday.”

Y/n got up alongside Joel, “I’ll go heat up dinner and brace myself for the cinematic masterpiece I’m about to experience.”

“I showed it to you a while back,” Joel called out to her, “Remember?”

“I remember,” Y/n swung into the kitchen, “And yet I’m still with you.”

Joel smirked to himself, setting the disc in the tray and jogging off to join Y/n. “Chinese?”

“There was going to be something home cooked,” Y/n scooped some food onto a plate for Joel, “But the grocery gods were conspiring against me.”

“Kidding? This is great,” Joel replied, coming to hold Y/n’s hips and move around the kitchen with her. He settled his chin against her head, “Thank you. For all of it.”

Y/n leaned back into Joel’s chest, “I don’t see how crappy Chinese food and aiding your daughter in thievery deserves thanks but,” she twisted her neck to plant a kiss on his cheek, “I’ll take it.”

Joel absentmindedly ran his hands up Y/n’s arms, gazing down at her skin. His eyes drifted to her exposed neck, the glow of the microwave illuminating a purple splotch across her throat.

“What’s this?”

Y/n was watching the timer, “Hm?”

Joel pulled back the rest of her hair and lightly ran a finger over the skin, “Where’d you get this?”

Y/n pulled away, confusedly grabbing a spatchula out of a drawer and relfecting it back on her. Sure enough, there was a large purple bruise developing where the psycho in the hardware store had choked her.

“Hm,” Y/n thought, she hadn’t intended to ruin the levity of the night, “Uh, are we sure you didn’t put that there?”

Joel bristled at the idea, even at his most passionate, he wasn’t rough like that, “I’d never do this to you.”

Y/n sighed, pressing the ‘stop’ button on the microwave before it could beep. She pulled Joel’s food out, set it down and leaned up against the counter.

“A guy attacked me today at work,” she said softly, not wanting Sarah to hear.

Joel’s eyebrows raised two inches, his voice got low, “What?”

“He came down the aisle and just,” Y/n gestured suddenly to herself, “Tackled me to the ground. It took three of the guys, plus Don just to get him off of me.”

Joel surged forward, hovering his hand over Y/n’s neck and examining her, “How bad is it?”

“I’m okay,” Y/n gently took Joel’s hand, bringing it down to his side, “Headache from smacking my head on the floor, little sore, but fine.”

“Please tell me you called the police and pressed charges” Joel asked, fully in protector mode.

Y/n shook her head, “I didn’t wanna drag it out, I just wanted the whole thing to be over. The cops took him, they can deal with it.”

Joel braced himself against the counter to Y/n’s side, halfway-caging her in. “And you weren’t gonna tell me about it?”

“It’s your birthday,” Y/n smiled softly up at her boyfriend, “I just wanted to come home and have a normal evening with you guys. Forget it ever happened.”

Anger swelled in Joel’s stomach for whatever freak had gone after her, but his gaze stayed soft. Her pain was his pain.

“Wanna know what the worst part was?” Y/n asked, looping a finger through Joel’s and smiling sadly, “I could have fought back…but I just laid there. I tried to push him off but…”

There was no need for her to finish the sentence. Joel’s mind flashed back to the night they’d met, when that creep had laid his hand on her and she hadn’t fought back. It was one of his deepest worries, that one day someone would come at her and he wouldn’t be there to protect her.

“Can you please,” he begged, “Enroll in a self-defense class?”

“Yes,” Y/n agreed, saying whatever she could to get the night to return to normal, “I think there’s one down at the community center.”

Joel’s shoulders rose and fell with his sigh, cupping the back of her neck and drawing her into his body. She wrapped her arms around his middle, digging her face into his pec.

“I hate the world sometimes,” Joel said over her shoulder.

Y/n scoffed, “You and me both, bucko.”

They stood in each other’s arms a moment, letting the stress of the day melt away.

“Your daughter’s waiting,” Y/n smiled into Joel’s chest, “And she’s been waiting all night.”

Joel broke from her, stroking a thumb over her cheek. He was looking forward to revealing the reason for his late night hours.

With dinner in hand, Joel and Y/n headed back into the living room, where Sarah was waiting with the remote. Joel settled down in the middle of the couch, giving him room to be surrounded by his two favorite people.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he warned, as Sarah snuggled into his shoulder.

“‘Course I won’t,” she said, “It’s too riveting.”

“I make no such promises,” Y/n replied, hanging one of her legs on Joel’s knee.

Both of them were out cold within an hour.

Joel couldn’t complain even if he tried. With Sarah passed out on his leg Y/n tucked under his arm, it was the happiest he’d been the whole day.

While watching the movie, Joel’s mind kept spinning around proposal ideas. If he got the ring in the morning, he could do it that night. Or did he need to spend more time, crafting some elaborate idea involving doves and roses and all the movie shit? Y/n wasn’t fancy, she probably wouldn’t care if that was missing. All he cared about was that she said ‘yes’ and that the ring was something she could cherish the rest of their lives.

Joel gazed down at his daughter and soon-to-be fiancé, fast asleep on him. A lifetime of that was a thought he could get used to…

The vibration of his cell phone broke Joel out of his daydream. He reached forward, trying not to wake either girl, bur Y/n stirred enough to come to.

“Sorry,” he whispered, picking up the call, “Hello?”

“Joel, it’s me,” Tommy’s voice cut through, Y/n’s head was close enough to hear the call, “Uh, I’m okay.”

“Yeah?” Joel asked.

“But I’m in jail.”

Y/n sat up groggily as Joel arched back into the couch, rubbing his eyes in stress.

“Wasn’t my fault this time,” Tommy was quick to defend himself, “I was at the bar, some guy goes crazy, starts swingin’ at waitresses, I stepped in, knocked him out, cops showed up-”

Joel and Y/n shared an exhausted look, both from true tiredness and Tommy.

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Tommy hurried, “You gotta bail me out.”

“Now?” Joel hissed.

“It’s Friday,” Tommy said, “You don’t get me out, I’m in here all weekend. It’s a fuckin’ madhouse, Joel. I gotta get out.”

Y/n rubbed the sleep out of her eye, and lowered her voice, “I’ll go get him.”

Joel’s hand shot out across Y/n’s legs, “No,” he switched conversations, “Well, which jail. Travis County?”

“Yeah, on 10th,” his little brother answered.

“Damn it, Tommy,” Joel shook his head.

Tommy took a breath, “I’m sorry…please.”

Joel waited before answering, “Okay,” he hung up his cell, “Fuckin’ idiot.”

“Joel, just let me go,” Y/n offered, gesturing to Sarah using his leg as a pillow, “You got him last time.”

“I don’t want you out this late,” Joel shot down the idea a second time, “Especially in that part of town. I’ll be back, hour tops.”

Carefully, Joel eased Sarah off of him and lifted her into his arms. He carried her upstairs to bed while Y/n stayed on the couch, trying to get her bearings.

Joel came back downstairs, grumbling to himself as he collected his wallet and keys.

“We do all this,” Y/n gestured to the empty dinner plate and gift box, “And Tommy’s still gotta one up us.”

“Yeah, well,” Joel muttered, throwing his cell phone in his pocket, “I shoulda just left him in there.”

Y/n looked up amusedly at her boyfriend, “Yeah, like you’d ever do that.”

Joel’s instinct was to protect, he couldn’t have left his brother to rot for the weekend if he tried.

Y/n got to her feet and slid a hand up Joel’s chest, bringing his restlessness to a halt. She wrapped her other hand around the base of his neck, rubbing at the permanently tense muscles.

“Happy Birthday to you,” she sleepily smiled.

Joel leaned forward to connect his lips to Y/n’s. In an ideal world, he’d carry her upstairs and they’d fall asleep in each other’s arms. But after rescuing Tommy, they’d have the whole weekend for that. Still, he poured as much love as he could into his kiss.

Neither of them knew it would be the last one they shared.

“Be safe,” Y/n told him once they broke apart.

“I will,” Joel replied, heading for the front door, “Go to bed. Be back soon.”

Y/n nodded, her eyes following him till he was out of the house. In her stupor, she wasn’t thinking of how packed the streets had been earlier in the day with cop cars. Or how the news had said there’d been increased violence in the city. Or how the story Tommy had recounted sounded eerily similar to hers. She was just tired enough that all that made sense to her was climbing into Joel’s bed and going back to sleep.

Slowly climbing the staircase, Y/n made her way down the hall. She paused outside of Sarah’s room, poking her head in to make sure she was settled. Joel had thrown a blanket over her and she was rolling over. Satisfied, Y/n pushed off of the door frame to leave.

“Mom?”

She froze in her tracks, she’d barely moved out of sight before Sarah had called for…someone. Not her. It couldn’t be her. But who else? She had no memory of her birth mo-

“Mom?”

Y/n’s chest fluttered, it could only be her. She hesitated to answer, “Yeah?”

“Where’s Dad?” Sarah asked, her eyes were still scrunched but she was looking to Y/n’s silhouette.

“He had to run by Uncle Tommy’s,” Y/n answered, saving the full answer for the morning, “He’ll be back soon.”

Sarah seemed to accept the response, nodding a little and settling back into her pillow.

“Goodnight,” Y/n wished, her hands awkwardly fidgeting against her chest.

“Night,” Sarah mumbled.

Slipping against the nearest wall, Y/n’s breath trembled with joy, shock…she couldn’t tell. Sarah had made up her mind as to what Y/n was to her…and what she was was a mother.

Feeling like she was floating, Y/n made her way down the hall to the bed that was as good as her own and slid underneath the sheets. Her smile stretched so wide, she thought her cheeks might split. She couldn’t wait to tell Joel when he got home….

—————————

First came the sirens.

Then came the choppers.

Then the car alarms.

And the flares.

Y/n was the first to wake, the sound of helicopter blades and the sensation of the house rattling waking her. She reached over in the dark for Joel and grasped air. The clock read 2:15AM, he’d left at 11.

That was enough to wake Y/n the rest of the way up.

She rolled out of bed and went to the window, peeking through the blinds to see flares being shot into the sky. Though her vision was blurred from sleep, she could see the smoke cloud in the distance. It was coming from downtown.

“Dad?” Sarah called down the hall, “Y/n?”

“In here,” Y/n said, still watching the sky as another round of helicopters flew over their neighborhood.

Sarah came through the door, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Y/n answered, her stomach twisting in confusion, “Go check if your dad’s downstairs.”

Sarah left, calling for Joel as she descended the staircase. “He’s not here,” she yelled up.

Y/n’s chest sank, anxiety beginning to creep its way up her throat. Was this some kind of invasion? It had barely been two years since 9/11, was something of that scale happening in their backyard?

“Y/n!”

The urgency in Sarah’s voice got Y/n moving out the bedroom and down the stairs as quick as she could. “What is it?”

Sarah had switched on the tv, the emergency broadcast signal was on every channel, delivering an ominous message to stay indoors and wait for law enforcement.

A thud against the window had Y/n pulling Sarah to her chest, the girl wrapping her hands around Y/n’s wrists. Mercy, the Adler’s dog, had his paws against the window and was trying to get inside.

“Stay here,” Y/n told Sarah, heading to unlock the front door. She crouched down on the porch and the dog leaned against her legs, whining. “Shh, Mercy, shh…”

“Is he okay?” Sarah asked, right behind Y/n.

“I think,” Y/n answered, clueless as Mercy panted furiously under her touch. She looked across the street, finding nothing out of the ordinary visually. Audibly, there were car alarms coming from all directions and the chopper was making another circle around the subdivision. Something felt very, very wrong.

“Stay here,” Y/n told Sarah, “I’m gonna take a look around.”

“No, I’m coming with-“

“No,” Y/n’s tone firmed up, “Take Mercy inside and stay-“

Mercy started barking as if he knew he was being discussed. Y/n knew nothing she said would get Sarah to listen, she was out of options.

“Let’s get him back home,” she said.

Sarah led Mercy by the collar across the lawn and onto the Adler’s driveway. Once he realized he was back at his house, Mercy began to whine and pull away from Sarah.

“C’mon, Mercy, please,” Sarah begged.

Mercy pulled one final time, the collar unclipping and letting him loose. He took off into the night.

“Mercy!” Sarah called, he was too far gone to hear her.

“It’s okay,” Y/n quickly tried to smooth Sarah’s heartbreak over, “We’ll find him. But first, we’re going home and-“

Clanking from inside the Adler’s home drew their attention.

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah called, receiving no answer, she looked to Y/n to decide their next move.

Y/n was torn between following the noise and running back home to call Joel.

“Stay behind me,” she decided, placing herself in front of Sarah as a barricade.

They crept up the Adler’s porch, letting themselves in through the ajar door. The carpet runner was scrunched up, something the meticulous Connie would have never allowed.

“Connie?” Y/n announced their presence.

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah repeated, the two of them frozen in the hallway.

Another loud sound from the kitchen, followed by a distant gunshot and chased by a car alarm.

Y/n tried to inhale steadily, but the trembling came anyway. The long stretches of silence broken up by what sounded like war were creating a steady pit of fear in her chest.

She reached backwards, pulling Sarah closer to her body. The girl was already holding onto Y/n’s hips. They took soft steps through the hall and to the kitchen.

“Con-“ Y/n held on to the room divider as she stumbled, looking down to see the slippery substance across the floor.

Blood.

Sarah and Y/n’s breaths caught in their chests as their eyes followed the trail of crimson through the kitchen…to Mr. Adler, laid against the cabinets.

“Help me,” he whispered, a particularly gory wound to his neck oozing blood down his body.

Y/n moved to help him but was yanked back by Sarah, who already had eyes on the next terror.

Nana Adler was hung over her daughter, her face burrowed into her neck.

Y/n eased Sarah back, making no sudden movements, as the elderly woman slowly looked up to them. There were strands of something springing from her mouth, it was something out of a horror movie.

Nana rose to her feet, her movements choppy and careless, and Sarah wrapped her arms around Y/n’s torso.

The woman, animalistic, shrieked and ran towards them.

Y/n shoved Sarah back towards the door, racing out of the house and onto the lawn. She was pulling the girl toward their house when the roar of a pickup truck came barreling down the street.

Tommy’s truck.

Tommy pulled the truck up onto the curb, Joel jumped out before it had even stopped.

“GET IN THE TRUCK,” he yelled at Y/n and Sarah, “RIGHT NOW!”

With Sarah in her hands, Joel grabbed Y/n and pulled them to the vehicle, “Move!”

Nana Adler came screaming out of the house, Y/n and the Millers watching the bones in her body violently crack under her skin before she fell to the ground. They waited in anticipation until she startled back to life with a gasp, stumbling to her feet and charging towards the family.

“What are we doin’, Joel?” Tommy yelled, his rifle pointed at the grandmother.

Y/n wrapped Sarah in her arms, shielding her body from any harm, but not her eyes.

Joel wasted no time in making the decision, it was either her, or the women he loved. He slashed the wrench he was clutching into Nana’s head, the life leaving her as she dropped.

After, he turned to Y/n and Sarah, their tearful eyes widened in horror. He rushed to them, bending to cup Sarah’s cheek.

“You killed her,” the girl said, unable to form a deeper thought.

Joel pulled his daughter and partner into his arms, “Baby, I’m sorry.”

“Joel, we gotta go,” Tommy warned.

“Joel,” Y/n shook, “What’s going on?”

“Listen to me,” he looked to both his girls, “It’s not just the Adlers,” he took Sarah’s cheeks into his hands, “But we’re gonna be brave, and we’re gonna get out of this.”

A flash of green to their left and Joel was covering them with his arms. The transformer at the end of the block had exploded.

“Hey,” Tommy rounded the truck, “Let’s go. C’mon!”

Joel and Y/n hurried Sarah in front of them, “Get in.”

Y/n stopped before joining her, gripping Joel’s arm, “Joel…”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, posessing no more answers than she did, “I don’t know.”

Y/n dove into the truck, pulling Sarah into her arms the minute she was seated.

Joel slammed the door shut, his neighbor calling his name out in concern.

“Denise, you get back inside the house,” he yelled, “You lock your doors! Now!”

“C’mon, c’mon, get in,” Tommy urged.

The second Joel’s door shut, Tommy was already pulling them around the cul-de-sac. As he rounded the turn, Mr. and Mrs. Adler came across their lawn and into the street, in the same possessed state as Nana had been.

“Get your seatbelt on,” Joel told Tommy.

“Hold on,” his brother said, accelerating the engine and ramming into the Adlers head on.

Y/n tried to pull Sarah’s head into her shoulder, but the girl was too quick, already looking out the back to see Mrs. Adler on her feet.

“You take 70-“ Joel began to give directions.

“71,” Tommy finished, “I know.”

A line of police cars blew down the opposite lane, speeding towards more chaos they didn’t even understand.

Sarah’s breath had steadied enough where she could speak clearly, “Daddy-“

“We don’t know,” Joel cut her off.

“They’re saying it’s a virus,” Tommy explained, “Some kinda parasite.”

“What parasite does that?” Y/n asked, knowing none of them had an answer.

“Is it from terrorists?” Sarah asked, her voice getting watery.

“We don’t know,” Joel repeated himself, watching his brother as he drove.

“A-are we sick?” Sarah’s panic was growing.

“No, we’re not sick,” Y/n answered immediately.

Joel fiddled with the radio, getting static back in return.

“Why did things blow up?” Sarah asked.

“No cellphone, no radio,” Tommy mused, “Minute ago, newsman wouldn’t shut up.”

“They were broadcasting emergency signals on the tv,” Y/n recalled, as if it made any difference now.

“How do you know?” Sarah kept up her questioning.

“What?” Joel acknowledged her.

Sarah couldn’t hide her tears any more, “How do you know we’re not sick?”

Y/n stroked her hair, offering what little comfort she could while also sharing Sarah’s terror.

“They’re sayin’ it’s mostly people in the city,” Tommy explained, “That’s why they got the highway blocked off.”

Joel craned his head to meet Y/n’s eyes, “This what happened at the store today?”

“Yeah,” Y/n answered, flashing back to 12 hours before. Her attacker hadn’t had the strange strands hanging from his mouth, but he’d had the same animal-like rage.

The car fell silent again as they passed a house, the whole structure consumed by flames.

“It’s Jimmy’s place,” Tommy said as they drove by.

“The Adlers would take Nana into the city,” Sarah continued to try and solve the puzzle, “To the hospital for stuff.”

“That’s right,” Joel agreed, “They would. That’s probably why.”

“But…” Sarah’s brain worked double time, “You’d have to go a lot…right?”

Tommy shook his head slightly, “We’re fine, trust me.”

Through the dashboard mirror, Y/n’s worried eyes met Tommy’s. He was saying a prayer rather than stating a promise.

On the side of the road, a car was pulled over, a family standing outside it waving their hands wildly. “Here! Right here!”

Tommy began to slow down, drawing Joel’s confusion. “What’re you doin’?”

“They got a kid, Joel,” Tommy gestured to the family.

“So do we,” Joel said firmly, “Keep drivin’.”

The father panicked as Tommy followed orders, screaming for them to stop.

“We could put them in the back,” Sarah offered just as they passed them by.

Y/n’s heart sank as the father’s cries echoed in her ears, her eyes drifting to the back of Joel’s head.

“Somebody else’ll come along,” he said to the car, but mostly to himself.

Sarah, trying so hard to remain calm, let her tears fall silently. Whatever shred of reality they could make of the chaos around them was starting to sink in on Y/n too. She pulled Sarah deeper into her arms, feeling the girl’s sadness land on her skin.

Tommy sped down the lane, trying to get on the freeway, and meeting the sea of likeminded cars.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed, “Everyone had the same fuckin’ idea.

Panicked drivers were speeding towards them, the little white lines on the asphalt ceasing to matter.

“I can’t get through this,” Tommy said, dodging the cars.

“All right, all right,” Joel tried to remain calm, “Let’s think it through, we’ll think it through.”

“Tommy!” Y/n cried as another reckless driver nearly clipped them.

“All right, take the field,” Joel directed, “We’ll cut across and pick up on the-the west side.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tommy’s breath shook, “West, west, all right. All right, hang on.”

Sarah held onto Y/n a little tighter, bracing herself as Tommy went off road into the tall grass. The truck dipped and bounced with the land, until they met smooth dirt…giving them a view of the freeway. The military had already set up shop.

“Shit,” Tommy exclaimed, “Fuckin’ army!”

“Isn’t that good?” Sarah asked

“It’s good for them” Tommy said, “But that’s the highway we’re tryin’ to get to.”

Joel’s brain was spinning with roads, “All right, keep movin’. Head north.”

“Could be a lot of people,” Tommy pointed out.

“Well, we can’t go south, we can’t go east, we can’t go west,” Joel replied, “Hell else we supposed to go?”

Tommy hesitated, his hands nervously gripping the wheel.

“Tommy, come on,” Joel yelled, his own anxiety beginning to show itself.

Listening, Tommy turned the truck north, leading them towards the distant light of a small town.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know that place,” Joel said, “This can work.”

“Joel,” Y/n spoke up, “What then? Where are we going?”

He didn’t know, he barely could remember the numbers of the highways. All he knew was he needed to get his family to some sort of safety. “I don’t know, Mexico,” he blurted out, “Just far, far as we can,” he looked to his brother, “How much gas?”

“Three quarter tank,” Tommy answered, it was enough to make it to the border.

“Go through town,” Joel began to list off directions, “Golf course by the river, straight across, we pick up the highway on the other side of the blockade…” he exhaled, “Then we’re out.”

“Maybe it’s everywhere,” Sarah theorized, trying so desperately to make sense of what was happening, “Maybe there’s nowhere to go.”

Joel and Yn’s worried eyes met in the dashboard mirror, they were both wondering the same thing. Illnesses didn’t stay quarantined to just one city in one state, they spread like vines, reaching for any life they could. What if this parasite worked the same way?

A loud roar began to encroach on the truck from above.

“What the fuck?” Tommy exclaimed.

Sarah and Y/n shielded their ears from the noise, looking up through the roof’s glass top to catch a low-flying plane directly above them. There were a line of three more trailing the sky behind them.

“Shit,” Y/n whispered, her facade for Sarah was fading.

Down the road, the red white and blue lights of a police car became a stumbling block. “Son of a bitch,” Tommy complained, “Gotta go around. Grab somethin’!”

Joel reached an arm back, both to brace himself against Tommy’s seat and give Y/n something to hold onto. Sarah held fast to Y/n as Tommy made a hard right down the next street. The town they’d turned into had descended fully into chaos, its residents running wildly through the streets, either screaming for help or attacking one other.

“All right,” Joel talked his brother through the roads, “Keep goin’, keep goin’,” he looked to his left to see a truck barreling towards them, “Shit, Tommy!”

The tire screech had Y/n flipping Sarah’s body over hers, making herself a human shield. Thankfully, the crash never came.

The next street Tommy turned them down was even worse. People were beating each other senselessly in the street, the screams of the wounded piercing their ears.

“Tommy, you can’t stop here,” Joel said as his brother slowed the car.

He gestured to the crowds, “I can’t drive through ‘em.”

“Are you serious?” Joel yelled, “Just keep goin’!”

Up ahead, an explosion shattered the windows of a building, eliciting every person inside to run for their lives, all headed towards the truck.

“Go, go, go,” Joel urged, smacking the dashboard a little harder with each utterance, “Back, back, back, back, back, back, back!”

“I’m tryin’!” Tommy yelled back.

Y/n caught the faces of people as they ran past, the terror, the confusion in their eyes. One woman had blood streaming down her chest, the deep red turning her white blouse deathly crimson.

“Tommy, go faster,” Joel berated, “We gotta go!”

“I’m tryin’, there’s nowhere to fuckin’ go,” Tommy said, maneuvering them backwards.

“Tommy,” Y/n couldn’t stay quiet, “Fuck, anywhere!”

“Find an alley!” Joel added.

“What alley?! There’s people everywhere!”

“Roll the fuck over them,” Joel ordered, “We gotta get off this street.”

Sarah had shifted out of Y/n’s arms and was staring out the back, watching as the humanity was sucked out of her city. In the sky, she could spot bright, blinking lights headed straight for them.

She blindly reached for Y/n’s hand, “Dad?!”

Y/n and Joel both turned, their eyes falling on the same sight. One of the planes was headed straight towards them.

“Fuck,” Y/n uttered breathlessly.

“Move…” Joel managed to say, “Move!”

The plane completed its nosedive into the road behind them, exploding in a fiery inferno. Joel reached back to grab hold of Sarah, Y/n shoved her down into her lap.

None of them saw the piece of debris heading for the truck.

—————————

Joel was the first one to wake up. He struggled out of his seatbelt, dropping to the roof of the flipped truck and looking into the back.

Y/n and Sarah were out cold.

Sarah’s leg was elevated, her foot caught in some part of the truck. Y/n lay in a terrifyingly still ball.

“Sarah…Sarah…” Joel weakly called, tugging on her free leg and startling her awake, “Stay right there. Don’t move,” he looked to Y/n, “Y/n, wake up.”

No response.

“Rosebud,” Joel urged, his voice betraying him and turning to a whine, “Honey, get up.”

“Y/n,” Sarah disobeyed her father, fear-stricken, and stretched her arm out to shake Y/n.

Y/n gasped, waking up the same way she’d passed out; panicked.

“Joel,” she cried out, “Sarah?”

“We’re here,” Joel reassured her, a hand to her arm, “We’re here. Tommy? You okay?”

Tommy grunted, trying to free himself, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

With a pounding headache, and the feeling of air hitting small cuts across her face, Y/n struggled to her knees. Nothing felt broken inside her, just weak.

Sarah’s breathing began to pick up, turning her body to stare out the busted window. Twenty feet away, someone was heaving over a body, draining it of blood the same way Nana Adler had.

“Sarah,” Joel moved to the back of the truck, “Don’t look. You look at me or Y/n, okay?”

Y/n was at Joel’s side instantly, gently holding Sarah’s calf so he could free her leg. The girl winced as Joel worked.

“I’m sorry, baby, I know, I know,” he apologized profusely, letting her leg drop into Y/n’s hands.

“Come here,” he urged his daughter, “Put your arms around me. Come here, come here,” he pulled Sarah into his embrace, “I got you.”

Y/n was crawling past, into the driver’s half of the truck, “Tommy?”

Tommy was already out, kneeling down at the window, “Come on, take my hand!”

Straining to reach him, Y/n slapped her palms against his and he dragged her out. She could feel the glass scrape against her skin, trying to hold her cries in for Sarah’s sake.

Tommy and Y/n pulled each other to their feet, Tommy reaching for his rifle after. Joel and Sarah had made it out on the other side. Y/n rushed around the wreckage of the truck to reach them, grabbing them both, “What’s wrong?”

“My ankle,” Sarah strained.

“We gotta get off the street,” Tommy urged, a fast approaching siren sending him diving for the asphalt, “Shit!”

A police van slammed into their truck, creating a fire between the two vehicles. Joel and Y/n shielded Sarah from the flames, “Tommy?”

Y/n wrapped her arms around Sarah, trying to take some of the weight off her ankle and freeing Joel.

“Tommy!” Joel screamed again.

Separated by the two totaled bodies, the brothers found each other.

“Head to the river,” Tommy shouted, “I’ll find a way!”

Joel hesitated to leave his brother behind, regardless of his competency.

“Get ‘em out of here,” Tommy insisted, “Go, Joel!”

It was the mention of Y/n and Sarah that snapped him back, he immediately turned and bent down to Sarah’s eye level.

“We can’t leave him,” she argued.

“Joel-“ Y/n began.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, “Can you both run?”

“No,” Sarah said as Y/n nodded.

Joel bent over and swung his daughter into his arms.

“You keep your eyes on us,” Joel half demanded, half begged Sarah, “Okay?”

“Okay,” she breathed.

“And don’t look anywhere else,” he finished, his panicked gaze moving to Y/n, “Don’t let go.”

Y/n locked one arm around Joel’s shoulders, the other under Sarah’s legs, needing one hand on them both.

The three of them rushed through the street, lost as to how to get to the river. Joel stopped in fear when they found a grouping of bodies, groaning, writhing, devouring one another on the ground. He guided Sarah’s head back into his body, but she’d already seen too much.

One of the monsters popped up, eerily fast.

Y/n and Joel’s hearts collectively stopped, anxiety kick starting them to run for the back door of a building. They dove inside, Y/n running ahead to bang on the locked door.

“Move,” Joel cried, kicking down the wood and pulling them through it, “Get ahead!”

Y/n jumped in front of them, racing down the length of the diner. She could hear the frantic footsteps and growls of the monster chasing them.

Slamming her body into the second door, Y/n cleared the path for Joel, the two of them sprinting away from the encroaching death nipping at their heels. The monster snarled as it came after them, too quick for Y/n or Joel even at their fastest-

BANG!

A shotgun fire silenced the animalistic sounds, Joel spun around to see the creature laid out in the grass, blood spilling from its head.

“It’s okay, baby,” he assured Sarah, “You’re safe.”

Y/n’s hands dropped to Joel’s arm, resting her head against his shoulder in an effort to catch her breath.

“C’mon,” Joel urged, turning around for the way of the river.

A searchlight hit them.

“Don’t move,” a stern voice commanded, through the light, Y/n and Joel could make out it was a soldier.

“My daughter’s hurt,” Joel explained, “Her ankle.”

“Stop right there,” the soldier ordered, they’d barely moved in his direction.

Y/n and Sarah both trembled, in shock at the sight of the rifle pointed at them.

“Okay,” Joel backed down, taking them the slightest step back, “Easy now. We’re not sick!”

The soldier reached for his radio, reporting into it, “I got three civilians by the river, one of ‘em injured,” he waited for a response, “Ankle.”

“What about Uncle Tommy?” Sarah looked up to Joel.

“We’re gonna get you somewhere safe first,” Joel panted, “Then we’ll go back for him, okay?”

“Okay,” Sarah accepted.

Y/n rubbed a hand over Sarah’s uninjured leg. The horror still had yet to be named, but they were so close to asylum from it.

An impatient Joel took a step forward, earning another up and close look at the rifle’s barrel.

“Hey,” the soldier shouted, “No one told you to move.”

Y/n trembled against Joel’s arm as they waited, why was it taking so long?

“Yes sir,” the soldier said into his radio, his voice having shifted and making Y/n and Joel’s stomachs tighten.

The gun came back up.

“We’re not sick,” Joel echoed, knowing what was about to happen.

“W-w-wait,” Y/n’s lips began to shake, she held out a hand to the soldier, “We’re not sick.”

“Sir,” Joel urged again, his voice rising with every second of silence, “We are not sic-“

Bullets rained down on the three of them, the force of the lead sending them rolling down the hill.

Joel pushed himself off his stomach, a harsh light on him drawing him onto his back. The soldier was mere inches from him, his rifle trained on Joel’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” the man said, he almost sounded genuine.

“Please don’t,” Joel begged, raising his hands.

Y/n had rolled farther than Joel, already weak from the crash and now with a pain radiating in her side. One of the bullets had definitely grazed her. She was able to push up onto her arms, dragging her gaze across the dirt and spotting the position her boyfriend was in.

“JOEL!”

The soldier was thrown forward, a bullet from behind lodging in his chest. Joel looked up to see Tommy, marching forward with his rifle still trained on the dead soldier.

Joel hurried to sit up, running a hand his side, a bullet had scraped across the skin.

Y/n let out a breath as she watched Joel move, her eyes scanning around her for Sarah.

“Oh, God,” Tommy breathed.

Frantic breaths could be heard, closest to Y/n and furthest from Joel.

Y/n froze at the sight.

Then she was rising, racing to the spot.

Joel was right behind her. “No…” he mumbled, “Oh, no.”

Y/n made it to Sarah first, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes ran over her body. Her attempts at breath were wracking through her violently.

“No, no, no,” Joel shushed his daughter, pressing a hand to her neck, “Okay, you’re okay. You’re okay, move your hand, baby.”

“Sarah, move your hand,” Y/n rubbed the girl’s cheek, “We gotta take a look, babe.”

Sarah let her hand drop to her side, revealing the blood that covered her entire lower abdomen.

Joel felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Y/n felt her entire body lock up.

Joel was the first to move, slipping an arm under Sarah’s shoulders. She let out the most heartbreaking cry, pain flooding her body as she reached to push her father away.

“I know, baby, I know,” Joel agreed, “I know, I know, I know. I know it hurts.”

Sarah’s breaths came quicker, groans accompanying them as she strained to take in air.

“Eyes on me,” Y/n urged, taking her face into both palms and rubbing her thumbs across the skin, “Don’t look down. Look at me.”

Sarah struggled to move her lips, barely pressing them together and humming. She was trying to say something.

“Shh, shh,” Y/n tried to keep her calm, “It’s okay.”

“Come on, baby,” Joel soothed as he examined her wound, “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Another wave of unbearable pain hit Sarah as Joel pressed down on her wound, trying to slow the bleeding.

“I know, I know, I know,” the panic finally reached Joel’s voice, “I know, baby. I know, I know. I know this hurts. You’re gonna be okay.”

Sarah’s breaths grew ragged.

“You’re okay,” Y/n fought back the relentless tears, keeping her hands on Sarah’s cheeks, “You’re okay. I promise. You’re okay.”

“All right, baby, baby, baby,” Joel tried to talk over and in between Sarah’s noises, “Listen to me, I gotta get you up, okay?”

Sarah shook her head, her eyes widened with terror she couldn’t physically put into words.

“Babe, we have to get you up, okay?” Y/n continued, “It’s gonna hurt like hell for a second, but it’ll be alright.”

“All right,” Joel couldn’t wait any longer, “You come on.”

Y/n moved around to help lift Sarah’s back, her and Joel working as a team to raise her. Sarah groaned and wept as they shifted her body.

“I know, baby,” Joel was on the verge of tears as Sarah strained to help herself up, gripping his neck. “I know, I know, I know,” his voice rose in fear, “I know, I know, I know.”

Joel turned to where he’d left his brother, “Tommy, help me!”

Tommy didn’t move, “Joel…”

Sarah’s body stopped shaking under Y/n’s hands, her chest went still.

“Sarah,” Y/n begged, “C’mon, babe.”

“C’mon, baby girl,” Joel whimpered, moving frantically to loop an arm around her, “I gotta get you up. Come on. Come on, we’ll get up.”

Rising on her knees, Y/n hung her head over Sarah’s. The girl’s eyes were blank, her lips were parted.

“Come on,” Joel sobbed, his pleas dropping off as reality began to invade his blind hope, “Come…please…”

It was too late.

Joel took Sarah fully into his arms, wrapping around her so tight, he thought he might be able to physically put her back together.

Any air Y/n still had in her chest left her body, her hands resting in midair as if she was still holding the child.

She crawled to Joel, covered in blood, rocking Sarah’s body and sobbing breathlessly over her shoulder.

It was real.

“Sa-“ Y/n whispered, tears starting to flood down her cheeks. Her voice dropped to a whimper, “Sarah.”

If the universe could grieve a human being, it was Sarah Miller’s passing that brought it to tears. No part of the Earth would be spared from the chaos that had claimed her. No corner of the planet would ever bloom and flourish as it had when she was alive. When she ascended, she took humanity and all of its beauty with her.

And the souls of the two people cradling her corpse, screaming into the night, went with her.

——————

TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking @endofthexline @alexiaricciardo @eonnyx @pedrosmexicangf @scarlettequinn @ao-sleepy @toinfinityandbeyonce2 @deanlovescassie @turmoil-ash @sorrowjunky @kpopslur @xxlilyxx90 @midgetpottermills @presidential-facts @scoopsnini @tubble-wubble @jamesdeerest @burninggracesandbridges @star-wars-lover @lucyhotchner @cococola-cocaine @witheringhqarts @fall-writes @alwaysdjarin @xxmoonn @emilia-the-artist @wand-erer5 @boneyarrd @lizard-zombie @itwasallinmyhead1 @cassidylea123 @paleepeaches @mxltifxnd0m @kettlekatie @ultimate-cinephile @gloryekaterina @caramelkatsukis-bitch @whovianayesha @memeorydotcom @deadunicorn159 @get0ut0fmyr00m @siriuslymooned @emmyeed @superbreadsoul @hellu-people1 @ourautumn86 @inas-thing @noraapple05 @givemylovetoall @luvwanda (tags continued in comments)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fic #twenty years later

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azsazz · 2 months

Text

Dead by Dawn (Part 16)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death,

Word Count: 3,157

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15)

Notes: okay i forced myself to finish this part so it's a little shitty and not at all edited.

_________________________________________

Day 195 Part 2

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The forest goes completely still.

There are no moanings of zombies in the distance, no rustling of leaves on the trees. Even the wind has silenced with your words.

Surprise shocks the group around you. Nesta’s eyes narrow into a piercing glare. The untrust is clear in the way that she readjusts the knife in her hand, and Azriel shifts next to you, his intention to block her path to you should she lunge. Cassian looks like he could growl.

The man at her side flicks his russet gaze to his lover, a frown of concern on his face. He looks like he’s ready to step in front of her as well, but if you know her from any of the stories Feyre had told you, she’s much too stubborn to allow that to happen.

Her eyes are cold and calculating as they flick back and forth between yours, staring you down.

The zombie that they must have been taunting suddenly lurches from behind a large oak and you gasp a little, but Nesta doesn’t do so much as flinch. Instead, she keeps those sharp eyes pinned on you, Azriel, and Cassian while her companion turns to take care of the undead being stumbling behind them. It’s missing both of its eyes, a thick slash leaking black blood across its forehead and into its unseeing sockets. The smell that follows it has your stomach churning, your quick snack from earlier threatening to make a reappearance.

It’s kind of incredible, watching how easily the copper haired man slays the zombie, all while Nesta guards him from the three of you. She has the utmost confidence in him, that he will keep her safe, and she doesn’t need to turn away from who may potentially be the bigger threat, whether she knows it or not.

The man kills the zombie with ease. One quick jab of his knife into the base of its skull has the undead falling limp to the forest floor with a crunch that you’ll never get used to. The man grimaces a little when he wipes his knife clean on the calf of his pants, then returns to Nesta’s side, awaiting her lead.

No one speaks, and it’s a little unnerving. The sun has already started its descent into night, and there isn’t going to be much time for you, Azriel, and Cassian to find shelter for the night if things here don’t go well. Nesta had mentioned something about the middle sister, Elain, but you don’t hear a thing, so she must not be around. Is she with others? Have Feyre and Rhysand made it to Eryef before you?

“Right?” you blurt, because no one’s speaking. “You’re Feyre’s older sister. Have they made it to you?”

“They?” Nesta questions and you deflate, knowing that they haven’t.

Cassian places his free hand on your shoulder in reassurance.

“Who are you?” the man next to her asks, and you watch his gaze dart to where the sun hangs low in the sky. He doesn’t seem to tense at its position, so you glean that wherever they’ve taken shelter must be close. No one wants to be caught out here after nightfall if they can help it.

“I’m (Y/N),” you offer and gesture to the men with you. “And this is Azriel and Cassian. I’ve been traveling with Feyre for a while now, and we joined forces with these two and their friend, Rhysand.”

“Then where is she?” Nesta bites and you want to flinch, to duck away from the accusation lining her tone. It is your fault that your group has split up now, that you’re too far away for the walkie talkies to work.

Neither you, Cassian, nor Azriel have an answer for her.

“She’s with our friend,” Cassian tries to console, because Azriel’s gritting his teeth so hard you think they might crack. He’s in a defensive position, and doesn’t like the way that Nesta is speaking to any of you. “They went back to our van but we couldn’t stay in the house we found because it was…infested. We left a note telling them where we went, and if they follow that, they’ll find your directions pointing to Eryef. When they get close enough, we can contact them on the walkies but as of this afternoon, they’re still out of range.”

“Rule number one of the fucking zombie apocalypse,” Nesta spits, “Don’t split up.”

You swallow roughly, fighting the pricking stinging your eyes. You know this and yet you’d been so stupid. The three of you should’ve waited for them to come find you, surely you could’ve survived in that house a few more hours—

You gag at the thought, turning away from the group. Cassian moves a few paces away with you, leaving Azriel to deal with Feyre’s sister and her counterpart as he tends to you. It makes something warm in your belly, the way that they fall back so easily into their roles; Azriel the menacing force, Cassian the caring charmer.

“You okay?” Cassian murmurs, his hand warm as he rubs your back. He keeps glancing over his shoulder, weary of the newcomers and how Azriel is going to handle them. He’s not very trusting, and everyone’s about to find that out the longer he’s left alone with them.

“Yeah,” you breathe, wiping your mouth. Nothing had come up but the motion seemed necessary. “I’m fine.”

He’s not all too sure that you’re fine but he ushers you back over to the rest of the group when you seem steady enough. He’ll ask you again later, when you find some privacy.

The group opposite you watches as you return. Azriel’s harsh stare keeps them from asking any questions.

“Where is Eryef?” Azriel asks simply. Nesta blinks.

“Why should we tell you, when you don’t even have my sister with you?” she asks, raising a brow. A flicker of emotion crosses through her pale blue eyes but you can’t make out what it is.

“Surely you didn’t think painting a sign with the name of your safe haven would go unnoticed by everyone besides Feyre,” Cassian adds. “Do you turn away all of those who come seeking help?”

Her eyes narrow once again but it's her companion who answers the question.

“No one has tracked us down before.”

You share a look with your men. It’s not unusual to not have run into many humans out here…at least trustworthy humans. Maybe they’d run into the same problems as your little group, meeting those who wanted to kill. Or maybe their camp is so well hidden that no one really takes notice of it at all.

“Well, now you’ve got us,” Azriel states, “And we know Feyre, have a way of communicating with her should they be in range, so you either show us to Eryef or tell us to leave, because the sun is setting fast.”

The authority in his tone has you shifting on your feet, warmth dancing in your veins. Where this attitude of his had been an annoyance to you when you first met Azriel, now that it’s directed at someone other than you, it’s kind of hot. It also makes your stomach swoop when he speaks like this to you and Cassian during the intimate moments you share.

The copper haired man makes the decision for the both of them, in what seems to be much to Nesta’s dismay.

“You can come with us to Eryef, but if Feyre and your little friend don’t show within two days time, you’re out.”

And yeah, that seems fair enough.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Eryef isn’t just a house, it’s a mansion.

Located within the confines of a gated community, you’re not sure you would’ve been able to miss something like this had you and your men come across it. The large, gold gates keep others out while expressing just how much money went into doing so. The streets are lined with brick, some loose in areas from lack of keep up during the apocalypse. They’d make for great weapons, should you need any, and it was smart thinking on Nesta and her companions' part, you think.

Inside of the gate house is a zombie who bangs on the window when you pass. Nesta hadn’t warned you about it, and since you’re traveling in the front of the group so that the two can keep their eyes on you, you startle, stumbling over your feet.

Azriel steadies you with a hand around your bicep, giving you a gentle squeeze to which you nod in response, letting him know that you’re okay. He shoots a sour look over his shoulder but Nesta is as stoney face as ever.

“We kept him alive in case anyone tried coming this way,” she explains, slipping through the gate, her hand tucked in her companions for help. He takes on the role of shutting the gate behind him and securing it with a padlock and thick chain. “Showing them that this place is as infested as the others will keep wanderers away.”

“Is this place infested?” Cassian asks, checking your surroundings as you all walk, the scraping of the zombie in the gate house getting softer as you move through the streets.

“There used to be a lot more,” is all Nesta says, taking the lead. She tosses over her shoulder, “But keep an eye out, just in case.”

“We spent some time trying to corral the monsters,” the man with the freckles explains. He seems a little more open to your presence, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the front Nesta is putting up or if he’s trying to get on your good side for an eventual backstab. “Cut off the arms of some, jaws of others,” he grimaces and your stomach churns. You slow your pace, not liking what you’re hearing. “The ones roaming around inside shouldn’t be able to harm you, but it’s not a guarantee.”

So instead of killing the zombies infesting this once pristine neighborhood, they’ve mutilated them further? The thought makes you sick. You’ve seen some things since the end of the world, been through worse, but this…this is new.

“What’s your name?” you ask softly. You don’t have the highest hopes that he will answer.

His russet eyes soften as he answers you. “Eris.”

“Nice to meet you, Eris,” you offer a gentle smile. “I’m (Y/N), and this is Cassian, and Azriel.”

Said men keep you tucked between them as you follow Nesta and Eris to wherever they’re staying. You let your eyes wander across the houses you pass. It’s like the world has gone frozen around you. There is no movement inside, no sign of distress from any of the homes in the community.

You wonder if any of them had been like the situation you found at the last house you thought was safe. The family trapped in the basement.

You feel a bit queasy as you think of what happened down there, the horrors you saw when you opened that safe room.

You shove the thought from your mind the deeper you wander, down roads of loose brick. The houses only become bigger and bigger, looming over the streets. Some of them are even surrounded by their own fences, though this doesn’t seem like the kind of place one would be wary of their neighbors, only about the money they’d once been drowning in.

Now, you see the fence around the houses as a second line of defense.

You pray that Feyre and Rhysand make it here safe, because if you can add to your group, get them to trust you enough to let you stay, you think one of these properties could be the place where Cassian might be able to start his garden.

You can tell that he’s thinking the same thing because of how bright his hazel eyes are. He’s alert and drinking in everything that he can, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he envisions his own paradise, his own place where he can keep you and Azriel safe. His gaze is warm when they settle on you and a smile tugs the corner of his lips.

The thought sends butterflies off in your stomach. Enjoying the warm feeling, you delve into better thoughts while following along. You’re so lost in your head that you hardly even notice the group coming up to what you think is the biggest house you’ve ever seen.

Craning your neck back, you take in the large, forest green house. There are columns of wood on the expansive porch, wrapping around the side of the mansion. There are a few rocking chairs creaking softly with the wind, and it looks picturesque, the thought of sitting out there with a warm cup of coffee on an autumn day, Azriel on one side of you with Cassian on the other—

“Welcome to the Woodland House,” Eris says, unlocking the door with a set of keys. You suppose it’s not uncommon to have a set of keys for a mega mansion in the middle of the apocalypse, but you do wonder where he found them…if they were sitting out on the counter or if he took them from a zombie's pocket.

You follow the pair inside. It’s like entering another world. Despite the home's large nature, the inside is warm and welcoming, so different from what the world has come to.It makes your chest ache.

The furniture is oversized and cozy, mis-matched pieces that make the entire space look lived in. There’s a stocked fireplace in the living room with a large woodpile beside it, ready for the long winter.

“We’ll speak more after dinner,” Eris tells you when his tour comes to an end. Nesta had darted off up the stairs while Eris offered to show you around. Nesta had thrown over her shoulder that it was pointless to do so because you will be gone if her sister doesn’t show up, but Eris only rolled his eyes in response. “This is where you’ll be staying for the next few nights.”

You brace yourself as he opens the door to the basement of the house. You tense a little as you stare down the stairs, brought back to the last scene of the large home you’d been in the basement of. Eris must mistake it for something else because he’s quick to continue. “I know how it must look, but you’re still intruders in our home and we must be careful. If I could put you somewhere else I would,” he promises. “When Feyre returns to her sisters we can give you something that better suits your needs.”

“It’s alright,” Cassian answers, his thick hand falling to the small of your back in a comforting motion. You release the air caught in your lungs and follow Azriel down the stairs. “Thank you for your generosity, Eris.”

He smiles, looking pleased. “Of course. Dinner will be in one hour. See you then.”

He shuts the door softly behind you and you’re tense, waiting for the click of a lock, trapping you inside, but it never comes.

Your shoulders droop with relief. Cassian is already halfway down the stairs by the time you and Azriel have shared a look and turn to follow.

“Holy shit,” Cassian breathes, “This place is fucking insane.”

It is. It’s a fully furnished space and it’s the size of another house. You almost don’t want to step off of the last stair into the carpeted cream carpets with your dusty shoes. It looks so soft you think if you lay down you’d be asleep within minutes.

There would be no need to do that, though, because in the middle of the room sits two large sofas that look like clouds. There’s a large screen and projector for movies and if this place had power it would be the place everyone would hang out at. You just know it.

Exploring further, drinking in its luxury. There are two bedrooms and an office, all fitted with pristine furniture and so clean that it feels like there’s no apocalypse happening outside of these walls.

It seems like Nesta and Eris have been here since the beginning, unless they’d managed to take over this mega-mansion and keep it from being looted, defended, and stocked. You suddenly wonder if there are more to their party.

It’s a safe haven, if Feyre and Rhys can make it here.

On a whim, you find yourself digging through drawers and searching through offices, the bedrooms, trying to find anything you can for an insight on what is going on here. Who owned this house? Where are the signs of humans?

You pull open one of the closets, shoving the winter coats out of the way but also taking note of them for when the summer winds down and the winter sets in. You’ll need warmth, especially if they don’t allow you to stay. You’ll have to speak with Cassian and Azriel about what you’re all going to do, how you’ll manage to get away with some extra necessities.

Getting down on your hands and knees you crawl further into the space when your gaze snags on a cardboard box shoved as far into the corner as it can. You drag it out, sitting back on your haunches, ripping open the flaps.

It’s memorabilia from what seems like another life.Trophies and sports ribbons, a signed baseball. There’s an old science project, a replica of the planets in space.

Digging further, your fingers brush a picture frame and you pull it out, examining the family. It was taken in the great room upstairs, the loving parents behind their seven smiling sons. One is getting his ear pinched by the father, a twist of pain on his face and you frown eyes moving up to the culprit, the vile person who could treat their son this way—

Beron.

You’d recognize the face of the man who wanted to eat you anyday.

The frame falls from your grasp with a crash.

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” Cassian asks urgently, as both of the men dart to your sides. Bile sits high in your throat and your breathing is short, shallow because you’re under the roof of what is his home. “Sweetheart?”

You can’t speak. Your heart races in your chest and your hands tremble even when Cassian pulls them into his strong, reassuring grip.

Azriel shoves the fallen frame away from the photo that’s loose, glass clinking loudly throughout the basement. He stands, staring at the picture, his fingers clenched so tightly at its corners that it begins to crumple under his unbridled rage.

You squeeze your eyes shut as Azriel shows the photograph to Cassian. You can’t look at it again, can’t see those hateful eyes staring back at you, taunting you—

“Oh, fuck.”

Oh, fuck indeed.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo@kemillyfreitas@5moremin@dream-alittlebiggerdarling@waggel36 @bionic-donut@queserasera @applepie02 @azrielsbabyg @arcadianmoonlight @pradaxstyles @illyrian-dreamer@reiincarnatiion @fuckthatfeeling @shadowsingersmate24@poppyalice2001 @fallmyriad @sstrohma @tcris2020@jeannineee @21stcenturytaegi@ochiolism@secretly-here@harrystylesfan2686@i-am-infinite

#dead by dawn #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel x cassian x reader #acotar zombie au #azriel x reader #cassian x reader

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shapard · 2 months

Text

Feather of Fate🕊️

Lucifer x Seraphim!fem!reader

Soulmate arc

Oh God, what have I created

Angst, Gore

Alone

Chapter 7 < Chapter 8 > Chapter 9

This wasn’t a great start to start to the day.

This feeling in your guts never left making it unbelievable hard to get some rest.

The click of the clock was so loud you thought your ear drums would burst any more seconds.

And Lucifer was living his live as the little spoon in your arms, simply not sensing your uneasiness.

You wanted to trust him, that everything will be okay, and nothing will happen.

But you just couldn’t shake it off. This feeling was resting deep inside you, waiting to be fulfilled.

And when you forget about it, it’ll always remind you that its there. It was eating you from inside out.

You hugged Lucifer closer as your anxiety started to rise.

Tick

Tack.

You hugged him so tighter and harder as the clock kept on clicking. He awakened from the loss of oxygen in his lungs.

Lucifer padded your back so you could let him go.

But you didn’t, your head was somewhere else and not even reacting to any physical touch you received.

Lucifer teleported himself out of your grasp. and appeared in front of you.

Normally he wouldn’t dared to escape your hug, but he didn’t want to be suffocate to death.

It would be a good death though.

Today is extermination day. And you were anxious, terrified even.

Lucifer could feel your anxiety a mile away.

He called out your name and held your hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

No respond.

That is weird…

He gets lost too in his thoughts but not this bad. He never saw you in this state before. He has a very bad feeling about this. “Sweetie? Are you there?”

No respond.

_________

You sat in the middle of a circle like table in the middle of nowhere. And it looked kind of like heaven.

You wore a simple silk dress that covered your body with grace. This place was weird and not comforting at all.

Everything felt hazy and foggy. Almost surreal.

You looked around and there was absolutely nothing besides a low white glow with you.

“Lucifer?”

You couldn’t forget that voice, it follows you into your deepest nightmare. It creeped into the depth of your bones leaving a paining feeling on the scar on your neck.

Michael.

A voice you heard once and will never forget. But this time he sounded softer and younger.

You turned towards Michaels voice, and to your surprise Lucifer was standing right beside him.

Well, you think that’s Lucifer.

He had the same features as him, but he had shiny blue eyes and had human teeth. He still had the porcelain skin, like your Lucifer.

“Michael?”

They both looked genuine happy. Untouchable from all the jealousy that ate Michael up.

Is that the past?

Why are you here?

How do you get back to your Lucifer?

“..Y…”

Michael and Lucifer were standing side by side like an unbreakable duo.

Behind them was someone with black hair, the same recognizable smirk. Lucifer looked so Innocent. A untouchable Innocence you've never seen before, not even from your own mother.

A white glow was protecting him for whatever waits for him.

And you felt sorry for him, for all that’s going to happen to him. What pain he must face and the loss he must endure.

All because of Michael's Jealousy and hatred.

“…Y…...n”

The blue-eyed Lucifer gave a short look in your direction, looking you straight into the eye.

Your breath hitched, a pull was pulling you towards him.

This all felt utterly familiar.

_____

It was a hum in your head that brought you slowly back to conscious.

“Y/n!” Lucifer looked at you with his red slit eyes, shaking you like a ragdoll back and forth.

“Wha- What’s wrong?!” You asked and he sighs in relief, thanking God under his breath. “You were gone for an hour! Are you okay?”

An hour?! It felt like one minute not like an hour.

While you were out, Lucifer was freaking the fuck out.

Your pupils were dilated, and your blood started to boil underneath your skin. This reaction wasn't healthy at all.

Not even for an Angel not an Seraphim.

“Dad! Y/n!” Charlie called you two to come down to the lobby.

Lucifer was scared to let you go into battle, not after that. Lucifer watched as you walked outside to Charlie.

Now he has a bad feeling about this too. But rather about your health rather than what awaits the two of you in the battle.

When he arrived at the lobby you were already standing in the lobby, a gun in your shivering hand.

You’ve never fought, and most likely not against heaven. The extermination day made you nervous.

It was the reason why you fell from heaven and may be the reason you fell in battle.

Lucifer looked over to you, he was worried.

You stared at the gun for a good minute. Unmoving and with wide pupils, scared.

His hand hugged perfectly around yours and he took the gun out of your hand.

“Everything will be alright.” That’s what he hopes for. He wanted to pray for the first time in this shit hell that you’ll be alright.

That you’re going to be okay, and nothing will go wrong.

Maybe he should’ve told you to stay at his mansion. But what if they first attack his resident and they kill you?

That’s not an option.

He promised himself that this is not going to happen again.

He looked up at you stroking your cheek to give you some comfort.

Closing your eyes you leaned into his palm.

Your mind hurts from the dark feeling that filled your guts with this awful feeling.

Something will happen that’s what you intuition tells you, but you don’t know what. It was worrying you that you wanted to puke all those scary thoughts out of your mind.

Nothing will happen you chanted in your head hoping to cope with the feeling.

“Luci I’m scared, I still have a bad feeling about this.” You confessed to him he responds with a light squeeze. “Nothing will happen apple pie.” He pulled you down so he can peck your lips softly.

He left you alone in the lobby and the everything around you grew colder, you were sure you could see your own breath.

Not giving this more thoughts you ran outside when Angel dust called out for you.

��They are here.’

You started to walk outside but stopped abruptly, your feet is stuck.

“Wha-?”

Someone clapped behind you, and you couldn’t move away.

Fuck.

“Who’s there?” You growled and wiggled your whole body to get out of the ice that captured you.

No success.

“We started off in a wrong pace so let me introduce myself correct.” A cold wind gush forced you to close your eyes.

Re-opening your eyes and you investigated those cold blue, you remember them clear as a summer night.

You'd never forget that day.

“I already know you.” You spat at his feet; some would say it was a protest towards Michael.

Blasphemist.

He sighs, “You should close that dirty mouth of yours, I’m not the one who is frozen in ice.”

You huffed in anger; he’s got a point. But you won’t leave this new found life without a fight.

You pulled out the gun and shot as fast as you can.

The Angelic bullet flew towards Michael’s neck, going for a kill.

But with a swift motion with Michael’s hand the bullet lost its pace. It fell softly to the ground creating an uncomfortable sound from metal meeting the ground.

Your eyes widened and you cursed. This is not good.

You planned to press again on the trigger, but Michael already had frozen you completely in Ice.

You hate the cold.

Lucifer is warm Like a flame in the artic. A pure bliss against the brutal coldness. But his coldness was filled with void and emptiness, no emotion.

“Can I continue?” He raised his brow and ice formed in front of your mouth muting you completely. “Actually, don’t care about your Opinion,”

He sat down on the couch draping his legs lazily on the table, “I am Michael, the one and only Arch Angel who protects the humans and guided them.”

He was so proud of this title, his chest puffing full of pride. His smile never leaves his face.

“If I was a human I wouldn’t trust you a bit-“ You yelped in pain when the ice broke your skin, leaving a painful cut on your cheek.

The ice digged slowly into your cheek bone.

“Well, you aren’t one.”

He stood up walking dangerous slowly towards you. His eyes glowing icy blue full with envy and anger.

You need to get to Lucifer.

His smirk widened, the dark aura around him was suffocating you. It was like a hand that squeezed the oxygen out of your lungs by holding tight onto your neck.

The ice moved away from one of your legs. You watched him slowly ready to kick him, when he comes any nearer.

“And let me tell you one thing.”

His laugh was disturbing, no joy, only sadistic.

His high kneel heel pressed hard on your leg. The force was crushing harsh.

Tears dripped down on the red carpet, and he laughed even more.

“I’m-“

You screamed when you felt how he broke your leg with a simple stomp. your bone pierced the flesh and skin open and touched the carpet.

Your blood dripped onto the carpet.

The red color of the carpet covered with your golden blood and his heel right in the puddle.

Your leg was twisted in the other direction and the pain is unbearable.

It was the only thing that kept you awake and at the same time tired you out.

“your-“

The other leg was being twisted with his bare hands.

The blood dripped down like a cup of water that fell from the desk. The carpet was barely recognizable.

You screamed in pure pain and horror. The pain was like you've fallen into acid. Your head was ringing loudly and all you could feel was the pain.

Your vision was blurry because of the tears and how they started to unfocus. Your pupils are dilated at the pain and no one will come to help you out of this.

who could survive this?

The pain only continued to burn deep in your flesh like a fire that burned you down to the core.

You cried under the pulsating pain that filled your senses.

He grabbed your hair pulling it down so you could look in his icy ones.

The Ice that surrounded you broke into many pieces creating a pile of icicles.

He let you fall into one of the icicle that pierced though your thigh.

“-Biggest-“

You scream.

It hurts, “Please- Please stop!” You screamed and plead. Hope that the Arch Angel above you have any mercy left for you.

"Please! It hurts so bad..."

His eyes shifted back to normal, and he kneeled in front of you.

He took your hand softly into his, his hands were so cold.

“Okay, when you ask this nicely.”

Your sobs stop for a second and your hopeful eyes met his.

Crack.

Pain spread all in your hand, he broke your hand. And his sadistic smile was back on his features.

His eyes take back their terrifying state and he lets you go.

You screamed and he brutally slapped you to the ground.

When the icicle wasn’t buried deep into your thigh you would’ve flew right into the nearest wall.

“-Nightmare.”

Your eyes slowly dropped from exhaustion.

Don’t fall asleep. You must survive.

Why are you so weak?

You crawled at the carpet trying to move towards Lucifer.

You screamed as the Icicle ripped your thigh in two. And you raised your hand as you looked at Lucifers Figure.

He was fighting the exorcist.

He will not come.

You dropped to the ground, accepting the fate that waits for you.

"I'm sorry."

Michael watched as you slowly blacked out and laid unmoving on the carpet.

The carpet was soaked with your blood, creating a beautiful color.

It sucked in even more as you bleed out on it all alone. Lucifer didn't come.

He removed the icicle out of your leg and closed every wound with his ice powers.

Michael took you into his arms rather rough. Your twisted legs were dangling around the air as he flew up to the portal.

But Michael came.

…

Lucifer was fighting with every exorcist that challenged him. Too concentrated than to hear your screams of pain.

The shallow pain on his legs and palm were from you, but he didn’t think about it.

He thought you were safe and sound right below him.

Fighting the exorcist on Charlie's side.

Then he felt his aura and Lucifer stopped abruptly.

His twin was here.

Lucifer looked down to look for you but you were nowhere to be found.

Out of panic he flew down to the battlefield on the ground. He called out your name as his heart ached from anxiety.

Where are you?

Lucifer looked up where he felt Michael's and your Aura from above.

And there you were, laying unconscious in his arms destroyed.

Your body was completely mangled.

Twisted legs and a twisted hand. A huge hole was decorating in your thigh and he felt your pain like a thunderstruck.

It was unbearable.

“No.”

He flew up as fast as he can, but he was to late, you were gone.

In heaven with his Twin and older brothers such as younger.

Lucifer screamed.

A scream from pain that unfold in his chest, a scream from Rage that consumed him.

Fire danced on the battlefield burning every angel into dust.

And in the middle of the chaos there was Lucifer on his knees. His eyes burning in red and his wings dropped in defeat.

Everything will be alright.

What a joke.

He should’ve known.

He could’ve done better.

A/n: I can explain-

💫

@ayanazoldyck @marydragneell @lunaryasha @cherry-cola-100 @lxkeee @latersgaters-steven @fandom-crashlanding @cupidsgift @steadyconnoisseurnacho @crimsonflameproxy @stormz369 @wooleypeaches @fukingsad @starlitvenus @avadakadabra93 @itzabbeym @asmodeussimpnumber1 @sirenetheblogger @k1y0yo @i-have-no-life-charlie @angelicwillows @0puddleofgender0 @fallenh34art

Sadly I couldn't tag you

#shapard #hazbin hotel #y/n #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #angst #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin fandom #fanfic #michael hazbin hotel

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eetherealgoddess · 4 months

Text

ꨄOur Betaꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Omegaverse Au

❦After saving her omegan boss and coworkers, Y/n is ordered to stay on watch because of their induced heat by traitors. Because she’s a beta she is the most trusted candidate. Who knew it would turn out like this?❦

Sano Manjiro, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Press the link for part two!!

Part Two

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Japanese language is red

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There will be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Our Beta

Being an executive for Bonten has its pros as well as its cons. The materialism and connections bring limitless pleasures when one is into that kind of thing. Cons being the risk of either getting caught by the police or killed by the hands of one’s enemies.

Everyone is at some kind of risk. Luckily, Y/n being one of the new executives results in her staying in Bonten’s headquarters most of the time. Usually working under Kokonoi as he supervises their finances. She helps with paperwork and takes on more of a secretary role, though being able to see every confidential file under the name ‘executive.’

Unfortunately, considering the only betas of the group being her and Koko; Takeomi, Mochi, and Kakucho being alphas, her and her supervisor had to complete a quick rescue mission for the omegas of the group who had been forced into an induced heat by a group of traitors, as well as including some of the betas and omegas from their security to help rescue them. Which brings them to this moment in the car full of whining omegas.

The thick smell of pheromones and slick fills their senses as Koko speeds down the road and Y/n eyes the window in the passenger seat. The men in the back damn near naked as they use part of their own clothing as a way to make small nests, eyebrows furrowed as sweat falls with their hands desperately pumping themselves.

“F-fuck, it hurts!” Rin exclaims as he viciously rubs his cock, desperate for a release.

“How long do heats usually last when they’re induced by a drug?” Y/n questions Koko. He shrugs.

“It could vary. A normal heat lasts at least a few days whereas, depending on the drug, could be a full week or more. Maybe even less.”

Mikey leans his head back as he lifts his legs more, gaining better access as he uses his slick as a lube before plunging his fingers into his anus, rubbing his cock at the same time as he breathes heavily out of his mouth.

“How are we going to get them out of the car? They can’t go out like that, they’d kill us once they're back.” She says.

“They don’t really have a choice. They can thank us for saving them before those cretins could rape them. Also, I have things I need to do so you will help the security team bring them in and you’ll be on watch.”

“Shit.” Sanzu whimpers as tears fall from his eyes, seeking to fill and be full as his fingers vigorously go in and out of his ass, his cock pulsating as he jerks it.

“Me?!” She exclaims. Koko side glances.

“Who else? The other executives are alphas and as I said before, I’m too busy. We have to take over considering this is an unexpected circumstance. Boss isn’t in his right mind. Nobody else is trusted enough to stay on watch, though the guards will be right outside the door.”

Ran bites his lip as his eyes lazily drift to his cock, thrusting his hips into his hand as he tries to keep as much control as possible, failing miserably as his body continues to heat up, blood drawing from his lip. All of the omega’s eyes are hazy as they work themselves up.

Once Kokonoi drives up, he parks in front of the lobby of the shared estate. They all have their own individual homes but this was the easiest decision. They have their individual rooms anyway, but Y/n was informed to take them to Mikey’s master bedroom considering it is spacious along with the huge bed the omegas will share since they should stay together considering the lack of chosen alphas. The men were carried to the designated room as Y/n follows, Koko already gone in the car.

As they were placed on the bed, they began to scrunch the blankets and clothes as nests, fully laying in their bare forms as they tried to orgasm. The air is thick as their scents fill the room, fumes would be seen flying in the air if possible. When Y/n begins to walk out, a voice calls out to her.

“Y/n! Com… come ere’!”

She turns and walks toward Sanzu who called her from the side of the bed farthest from the door. When she stands over him, he grabs the top of her suit and pulls her over, causing her to bend as he crushes his lips against her. She immediately tries to pull back, failing as he gives an ungodly grip to the back of her neck, holding her in place.

Her eyes widen as she finally pulls away.

“S-Sanzu! You can’t…!”

“B-beta! Touch me!” He demands, sitting up as he snatches her suit jacket, forcing her on top of his naked body. She gasps as she tries to release herself as he pulls her hips down on his erection, thrusting his hips.

“Goddamnit! S-Sanzu, stop!”

Her jacket is pulled off behind her by another culprit as Sanzu rips her blouse, revealing her bra. Hands slide up her stomach, reaching her breasts as they cup them. She leans her head to see who’s grabbing her from behind as kisses and licks are placed against her ear and neck.

“Ran! No!” She yells, only for him to shove her upper body over Sanzu, gripping her pants as he tears them apart. He continues to tear down her pants legs as she struggles against Sanzu’s wrapped arm around her waist. Mikey and Rin watch as they continue to please themselves, moaning and breathing heavily in desperation.

“GUARDS!” She screams desperately. The door slams open as they look in surprise, covering their noses.

Mikey sits up and glares at them with his piercing, black eyes causing them all to flinch.

“If you interfere, I’ll kill all of you as your loved ones watch.” He threatens. Y/n gasps as they all rush out of the room.

“Beta.” He catches her attention considering he’s still her boss. He motions for her to get closer, ignoring Sanzu and Ran assaulting her body.

“Come here Beta.” He growls. She immediately pushes herself away from the two as they allow her to move, holding back to obey their boss’s wishes. Her eyes widen when the pale man pulls his legs up.

“F-fuck me. Fuck me right now.” His voice slightly trembles as the pain becomes unbearable.

“M- Boss, I-I can’t do that.”

“I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t shove your fingers inside of me.” He glares. A grip tightens around her neck as she’s pulled back into a chest.

“You better listen, Beta.” Rin whispers, squeezing harder.

“B-but you’re only in heat! I can’t take advantage of that and I’m not even an alph-!” She shrieks as her shoulder is bitten roughly, blood dripping down as the hold on her neck tightens even more. Mascara runs down her face as tears fall from the pain, her face scrunched before she’s released.

She finally uses two of her shaking fingers to gather slick before slowly pushing into her boss’s anus, hoping to not trigger pain to save herself from getting threatened anymore. She thrusts her fingers back and forth steadily as the tip of her fingers reach the spot that causes his body to jolt as he thrust his hips.

“Ah! Yes, Beta just like that!” Mikey moans as his head falls back with his mouth slightly open. As she’s bent over, Rin tears her panties off as Ran shreds her bra. Sanzu forces her head to Mikey’s cock.

“Suck it, Beta. Pleasure your king.” His piercing gaze boring into her eyes as he shoves her head down, Y/n resisting by pulling back as she stops her hand movement.

“That’s too much, Sanzu. I can’t.” She whimpers as she feels Rin’s tongue enter her pussy, his hands pulling on her thighs as he pulls her over his face, the back of his head hitting the mattress under her.

“Guys, please! Wait!” She cries as Ran sticks two wet fingers into her asshole.

“I’ve never seen such a slutty beta. Bent over on all fours, so wet for omegas in heat.” His raspy voice states, thrusting his fingers as Rin sucks her clit. A hand grabs her head as it pulls her forward, dark eyes staring into her gaze.

“Do it, Y/n.” Sanzu states. “Boss won’t have to kill you if I get to you first.”

She continues her movement as she eases her mouth on Mikey’s head, attempting to go slow until he thrusts into her mouth. Sanzu’s hold tightens, some of his fingers falling to grip the back of her neck as he holds her head in place while his king thrusts relentlessly into her mouth. She gags as she’s forced to breathe from her nose, saliva and slick falling from her mouth as she thrusts her fingers into his hole. Ran accelerates his thrusting as his fingers hit her walls, Rin continues to suck and lick her clit as his fingers enter her vagina, immediately thrusting fast after he finds her g-spot.

Her body convulses as her legs tremble, all the sensations of her body being used for enjoyment overwhelming her as she shuts her eyes. Tears continue to fall at the pain in her throat, slightly gurgling as she’s drowning with semen. She opens her eyes to Sanzu staring intently at her, watching her pleasure their boss who’s moaning and whimpering as he violently thrusts his hips in need.

Ran climbs over Rin’s body as he replaces his fingers with his throbbing cock, groaning as he pulls her all the way to his base. She clenches in pain, the pleasure of her pussy being eaten and fingered causing a conflicted feel as her asshole is stretched to fit his girth.

With one last thrust, Mikey’s body convulses as he moans out her name, releasing into her mouth as Sanzu forces her to swallow it while biting his lip with a smirk. Breathing heavily before it steadies, their boss falls into a deep slumber. Ran and Sanzu smile as Sanzu gently moves Mikey to the side. She grips the sheets as Rin pushes himself up to where their faces meet.

Without any warning, Rin pushes himself inside of her. She grunts as her face falls onto his shoulder, only for her face to be grabbed and propped up.

“You’re not done, Beta.”

Sanzu shoves his cock into her mouth, holding her head as she’s plummeted by the brothers, roughly. All of her holes are filled as she’s forced into being bitched.

“You look like an omega, Y/n. So full of our cocks, ready to be bred.” Rin taunts as he grabs her neck.

Heavy breathing and moans filled the air followed by Y/n’s occasional grunts and wails as she’s fucked relentlessly by her dangerous coworkers. They become sloppy with their movements as the thrusts harden, followed by grunts and whines from the omegas.

“F-fuck Beta, s’ good!” Ran almost whimpers as he tightens his grip, red hue on his face as he leans over to wrap his arms around her, rubbing his face against her back as his usual neat hair is unkempt, falling over his face.

Rin’s face curls as he thrusts, squelching sounds coming from all of her holes. He stares at her scrunched up face as she’s face fucked. He slightly sits up to leave nurturing kisses on her bruised neck, sucking as his omegan comforts her. He grabs her breasts and gently rubs her nipples.

Sanzu stares at her watery eyes with his own hazy blue orbs, breathing heavily as he’s mesmerized by the tired look on her face.

“My pretty beta. Good Beta, good.” He praises as he pets her head.

Finally, both of the brothers release deep inside of her with two strong thrusts as Sanzu orgasms deep into her throat. She reaches her own release as the pressure builds, her body convulsing as well as trembling. She falls weakly on the Haitani as she breathes heavily, almost crying from joy as it is all over, for now at least.

They all shift as they use the torn clothes for nesting as they bury themselves into each other, including a sleeping Mikey. They all fall into a deep slumber.

The induced heat ended up lasting a week. On the last day, after he was informed by the guards, Kokonoi knocked on the door. Once he heard the, “Come in,” he turned the knob and walked into a messy room. His eyes widened when he saw Y/n, sleeping as she’s sprawled out on the bed naked, wet, and worn out. The omega men were dressing themselves as they normally would, seemingly unbothered by the knocked out woman.

“B-boss?” Koko questions. Mikey just ignores him as he sits on the foot of the bed. He dismisses the rest of them, the men walking out with one last look at Y/n. When it was just Koko and Mikey, he walked toward him.

“Her job title has changed. Chain her if you have to because she’s not leaving this room. All of the executives except the alphas are permitted to enter. Guards stay outside this door at all times.”

Once he walks out of the room, he stops and turns back to Koko.

“Get her on a schedule to be cleaned.”

Kokonoi could only stare in shock as his boss walked away like nothing crazy had happened. He turned back to look at the woman once more before shaking his head. He walks toward her and taps her head, her eyelids barely opening as she eyes him with a blurry vision.

“K-koko? P-please get me out of here.” She murmurs before falling back into slumber.

“I apologize, Y/n. I was not expecting this to happen. I guess we should prepare, hm?”

229 notes · View notes

magiccath · 5 months

Text

A Mind Full of Blissful Terrors

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which the Doctor and reader investigate a strange spaceship

CW: horror elements, body gore, and one singular f-bomb

Word count: 7.4k

A/N: many, many drafts, and too many months later, I have finally finished this one. I really hope you guys like it.

You bounced into the TARDIS control room, more than excited for your next adventure with the Doctor. He could take you to a grocery store and you would probably enjoy it.

“Where to today?” You asked with a smile.

“I was thinking someplace relaxing, we’ve been running for the past couple of days,” the Doctor suggested, looking at you for approval.

“Yes please!” you groaned, tilting your head back.

The Doctor smiled to himself, pleased at his own ability to know when you needed a break.

“Maybe we could head to Italy for some of that pasta you love?” he suggested, leaning back against the console.

“I would love some pasta!” you cheered, moving over to him. The Doctor smiled at you, the kind of smile that overtook his face. The corners of his eyes crinkled and his eyebrows angled slightly upwards.

“Allons-y!” He cheered, turning back towards the console. He started messing with it, flipping switches and pressing buttons. He did it all too fast for you to make sense of it. He was about ready to lift off when it started.

The TARDIS was beeping. The kind of sound a car makes when you forget to put your seatbelt on. The only issue was, the TARDIS doesn’t have seatbelts. You didn’t know the ship as well as he did, but you did know it wasn’t a normal sound.

You looked about in confusion before shouting his name over the incessant noise.

He looked back at you, just as confused as you were. That didn’t bode well with you.

The ship lurched forward aggressively, sending you tumbling across the room. You crashed into the railing, the impact making you wince. The Doctor stumbled too, tripping over himself in the process and crashing to the floor.

“What happened to Italy?” You yelled, frustrated. You had flown to Italy before, and it was never this bumpy.

“It’s not me!” The Doctor protested, getting up from the floor where he had landed. The ship rocked again, almost sending him back down.

“Can you stop it?”

“I’m not quite sure,” he grumbled, rushing about pressing buttons and pulling levers, all the while trying not to fall again. Unfortunately for him, centuries of experience meant little when your ship had a mind of its own.

You gripped the railing for dear life, squeezing your eyes shut in hopes it would just stop.

“It’s a distress signal,” he explained after a while, squinting at the screen in front of him.

“What?” You opened your eyes. It didn’t sound like a distress signal to you.

“Someone has patched through a distress signal, there’s nothing I can do about it,” he said, clutching the computer screen in front of him.

You let out an exasperated sigh, letting go of the railing. This wasn’t entirely unusual. The TARDIS had a habit of hijacking your trips and taking you places you didn’t really want to be. It was no surprise that your vacation was being postponed by some “distress call.”

The ship landed with its signature thump, the impact sending you stumbling again, this time into the console. You quickly regained your balance, running your hands through your hair anxiously.

You could be anywhere just about now, and the thought made you slightly uneasy. The Doctor, on the other hand, seemed more than excited for the adventure at hand. He rushed to the door, eagerly throwing them open with reckless abandon. Warily, you followed him.

You didn’t know what to expect, but this certainly wasn’t it.

Before you was a seemingly endless hallway. There were no windows, only large expanses of steel paneled walls. There was an incessant beeping in the distance, but you couldn’t pinpoint the sound. It was hard to see too far in front of you, the hallway was completely dark.

The Doctor rummaged around in his coat pocket, pulling out his sonic screwdriver and a small flashlight. He handed the latter to you and started off down the hall without explanation. You had no choice but to switch the light on and run after him.

He walked around with curiosity, his eyebrows furrowed. You walked slowly behind him taking in the ominous surroundings. He led the way with his screwdriver, scanning just about everything. He stopped every down and then to frown at the readings.

The beam of your flashlight was small, leaving you mostly in the dark. From what you could see, the hallway was a mess. Rubbish lined the floor; empty food packets, ripped fabric, and various pieces of plastic and metal. You were sure you saw a few bones, but you scuttled away anxiously before continuing.

Distracted from your own surveillance, you walked straight into the Doctor’s back.

“Sorry,” you winced. He shook his head, unbothered by the disturbance.

“It doesn't make sense,” he mumbled to himself, continuing down the hallway. He didn’t say it with his usual childish enthusiasm, rather, he seemed to be harboring thinly veiled anxiety.

You sulked after him, the floors creaking incessantly underneath your feet.

You continued to scan your surroundings. The ceiling was lined with large vents, a few of which were damaged. You didn’t get a solid look, but the hissing coming from them led you to believe they were air vents. Perhaps you were on a space base? Or, a ship?

“Doctor?” you whispered, an unease spreading through you. You couldn’t explain it, but something felt off.

“This way,” he instructed, tilting his head away from the noise. He could get like this. Distracted. In the moment, whatever danger lurked around the corner was paramount to everything else.

An uneasy feeling that you were being followed crept up on you. You picked up your pace, practically running to catch up with the Doctor. Every now and then you would cast your gaze backward, nervously searching for the presence you sensed. You could have sworn you were seeing shadows, looming forms that sulked after you. It was likely just your brain playing tricks on you, right?

You still used your light to survey the hallways behind the Doctor. For the most part, you were just encountering various forms of rubbish. That was until you stumbled across a body. You gasped, jumping back from it. Your shoes left bloody tracks from the puddles of blood surrounding the corpse.

“What is it?” The Doctor asked worriedly, by your side in an instant. You pointed at the body in front of you, your eyes unable to move away from it.

The sight was far from pretty. The person was a member of the ship’s crew, their work suit featuring a name patch and company logo. The Doctor moved closer, examining the branding. You scanned the name tag, unsure if knowing the identity of the deceased would make it better or worse. As much as you didn’t want to look at their face, it was hard not to. It was entirely blown open, the skull in cracked fragments from the damage. The flesh on the right side of the face peeled back, blooming like a fungus. On the other side, an eyeball hung from its socket, the optic nerve stopping it from falling to the ground.

It was the kind of grotesque death that stuck with you, that popped up in your nightmares for months after seeing it.

“There's not anything we can do for him,” The Doctor said, his voice close to your ear. You jumped, unaware that he had moved back to your side. You shook your head, forcing yourself to look away from the dead body.

The Doctor offered his hand to you solemnly. You took it, clutching onto it like a tether. Maybe if you squeezed his hand tight enough you could forget that there was a dead body a few meters away from you.

You stopped looking closely at the ship after that, focusing mostly on what was directly in front of you. If you investigated, you might risk finding more horrors. The Doctor didn’t seem any more comfortable than you, but he continued his scanning and searching of the hallways.

As you reached the end of a corridor, you stopped with a sudden gasp. The Doctor whipped his head around, terrified that you had found something gruesome again. He relaxed when he saw where your eyes were trained.

Before you stood a beautiful expanse of space, planets, and stars floating all around. A messy watercolor of shapes and colors, all colliding to create a perfect masterpiece. You had seen some of the masters at work, even posed for a painting with Leonardo Da Vinci. The most famous paintings didn’t compare to the sight in front of you. It was stunning. No, it was more than that.

“Wow,” you breathed, marveling at the sight before you. You could see a hundred galaxies and still find them mesmerizing. You shook your head, snapping yourself out of it.

“Spaceship then?” you deduced, looking back at the Doctor. He nodded, his eyes already trained on you. A sky full of stars, and he was looking at you.

“Suppose we should figure out where the crew is?” you suggested, trying to be of help.

“Right,” He said, his smile fading. “Where is the crew? A ship has got to have a crew, doesn't it?”

You nodded solemnly as you followed him. Even if he didn't seem too keen on it, he was still going to investigate.

He mumbled to himself as he walked, trying to work it all out in his head. He did this a lot, it was his way of thinking. Sometimes, he expected you to listen, but most of the time he was just lost in his own world.

You approached an intersection and cleared your throat, pulling his attention back to you.

To the right was a hallway like all of the ones you had walked down before. Dark, ominous, and probably housing more dead bodies. You didn’t really want to investigate and find out.

To the left was a similarly eerie hallway, but you could make out a flashing red light at the end of it. The beeping alarm appeared to be coming from that direction as well. You pointed in that direction, surmising that you should go in that direction.

“Oh, yes, we should probably go that way,” he agreed, but he didn’t move.

“Doctor?” You asked, looking at him with concern. You offered your hand, trying to replicate the sense of comfort and unity that he had provided for you earlier.

He smiled, still not his usual happy smile, and took your hand gently. He didn’t squeeze like you did, but you knew he still viewed the hand-holding as a tether.

“Dark, scary, abandoned spaceship that makes weird noises,” the Doctor recapped as the two of you moved down the hallway.

“What could go wrong?” you winced.

The Doctor grimaced, “Don’t say that.”

A thick, steel door loomed in front of you, bright red lights flashing from the other side. You weren’t quite sure if you were prepared for what lay beyond it.

Without hesitation, the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver to unlock the door. It looked like he was sticking to his usual MO: act first, think later.

Hesitantly, you slipped in the door after him. You couldn’t say that you shared the same carefree demeanor as the Time Lord.

The first thing you noticed was the windows. The front of the room was covered with thick glass. The view was still beautiful, but you weren’t looking at it. At the moment you had more pressing matters, like the spider web-like fractures that sprinkled the surface of the glass. You tried not to dwell too much on the implications that might have.

Your eyes focused on the rest of the room, darting around to look at all of the damage. Taking in the technological panels around the room, you inferred that you were currently in the central control room of the ship.

Wires poked out of their metal containers, a few of them shooting sparks into the air around them. Something had clearly made its way through the room, tearing up anything it could find in the process. The disheveled state of your surroundings did little to quell your anxieties.

On top of it all, the alarms on the ship were more than overwhelming. The flashing lights were blinding, a deafening alarm heightening the pain in your head.

You moved slowly into the room, your eyes still scanning everything. The Doctor wasn’t as observant as you, shuffling through the mess of wires in a desperate frenzy. He was anxious, and that didn’t help your own anxieties.

Behind one of the main control panels lay another dead body, this one fully decapitated. You didn’t want to actively look for the head. Whatever had happened, you were too late to do anything about it, you knew that much. That kind of damage just wasn’t something that you could fix.

The Doctor mulled about the nearby screens, trying to get them to turn on. After some brute force accompanied by the sonic, he managed to get the system to boot up. He started by turning off the alarms, a service you were more than grateful for.

“There’s security footage…” The Doctor mumbled, moving closer to the screen in front of him. He mumbled a few more things, but you didn’t listen. He was probably just talking to himself again.

You moved about gingerly, taking in the entirety of the room. You examined the damaged control panels while the Doctor continued his fiddling with the working screens.

Absentmindedly, you picked up an empty box. You dropped it almost immediately, terrified by what was directly behind it.

In front of you laid a fragment of skull, gooey bits of brain seeping out of it. A singular, unfocused eye stared back at you relentlessly from its socket.

You looked down at your hand in horror, noticing the small amount of blood from when you handled the box. The sight left you gasping for air, your hand shaking uncontrollably.

“Doctor,” you cried. You wanted to turn away, wanted to forget the image of it. It was like a car crash, so terrible that you wanted to look away but you just couldn’t.

You stumbled backward, tripping on another skull fragment. Your foot landed directly on it, sending a painfully loud crack through the room. You gasped in horror, lifting your foot gingerly. The damage from your shoe cracked the damaged bone further, creating a mess of small bone fragments, blood, and what you presumed was the deceased’s brain. The sight was so painfully unnatural, you felt your stomach muscles contracting in fear. You were terrified you might throw up.

“Doctor,” you cried again, feeling tears prick the back of your eyes.

He ignored you, something he often did when he was in the zone. It wasn’t personal, he just tended to hyperfocus.

You repeated his name, urgency forcing its way into your voice.

“There’s nothing we can do,” he said, looking over at you sadly. He really wished there was something he could do. If he had the ability, he would save everyone that ever existed. Unfortunately, it didn’t work that way.

You choked back a sob, eyes still not wanting to look away from the carnage in front of you or the gore on your hands. You knew there was nothing that could be done about the gruesome scene, but that didn’t make it any less scary. In all reality, who would feel comfortable in a room of dismembered body parts?

The Doctor whispered your name, placing a hand on your arm gently, “Look at me.”

You shook your head, terrified. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t look away. Your vision was blurring, distorting the bloody mess of your hand.

“Look at me!” he snapped, grasping your shoulders and effectively pulling you back to reality. The volume of his voice scared you, but you could tell from the tone he was doing it out of love.

“We need to get to the TARDIS. Now,” He urged. His face was clouded and sad, neither of which eased your fear.

He tried to hold your gaze, tried to get you to look away from the horrors in front of you. He hated that he couldn’t protect you from this.

“There is something on this ship, something dangerous,” he explained. “It’s probably still here, and we need to leave. Now.”

You blinked, fighting back tears. You didn’t want to be scared. You wanted to be useful and brave. You wanted to be someone the Doctor could admire, someone he could love. Standing in fear, on the verge of tears, was hardly something he found attractive.

A distinctly alien clicking came from the other side of the room, sending the Doctor rigid. You stared up at him, your eyes practically bulging out of your head. He swallowed harshly, his throat bobbing aggressively. Slowly, he tilted his head in the direction of the door.

“Slowly. Quietly.” He mouthed. You nodded and followed his lead, sneaking as carefully as you could to the door.

You didn’t dare take your eyes off of him. You didn’t want to risk laying eyes on whatever else was in the room. If your attention remained on his face, it was almost as if everything was fine. Almost as if you were somewhere safe and comfortable.

You let the Doctor lead you to the door, his hands placed firmly on your waist. His touch served as an anchor, keeping you tied to reality.

You were almost halfway to the exit when it hit him. He’d left his sonic screwdriver on the main control panel.

You saw the panic flash across his face. As much as he tried to hide it from you, you always notice when he’s upset.

“The sonic,” he mouthed.

You nodded slowly, letting him know it was okay to let go. You knew how important the sonic was, you’d need it sooner rather than later.

He was hesitant. The Doctor didn’t like leaving you when it was safe - he dreaded leaving you when it was dangerous.

You nodded again, hoping that your eyes did the talking for you. The two of you weren’t getting too far without the sonic, especially not on a strange spaceship with some monster alien on it. He had to go back, even if that meant leaving you.

Reluctantly, he started to slowly back away from you. He kept his eyes trained on you for as long as he could before he had to turn away to look where he was going. He moved as quietly as he could, taking extra care to not draw attention to himself.

Eventually, he made his way back to the console and grabbed the sonic. In the process, he managed to fumble it a bit. He froze, holding his breath in the hope that he hadn’t just revealed your location. The room was silent for a few seconds, long enough for him to think the course was clear. He let out his breath, relieved.

The clicking resumed from the corner of the room, now closer to you than to him. You saw the recognition flash across the Doctor’s face. You started to turn towards the noise but the Doctor shook his head. You froze, not daring to move.

You heard the windows crack further, the sound of glass breaking unnaturally loud in the silent room. The shattering made your stomach drop, your breathing labored and tense.

“Run!” The Doctor shouted, already making his way out of the room. You were on opposite ends of the room, it made no sense for either of you to wait for the other.

Even still, it took a second for the Doctor’s words to register. Once they did, you set off running.

You had to get as far away as you could. The blood rushing in your ears was enough to dull the sounds around you. The only thing that mattered was getting out.

You could hear the monster moving and hissing behind you, the sound growing closer and closer. You looked behind you, panic coursing through your body. You couldn’t see anything, and you didn’t dare stop to get a good look. You could hear thumping in the vents, maybe that’s how the alien was getting around. You stopped running, turning your attention to the vents above you. Sure enough, that was the origin of the noise. The hissing was getting louder, the proximity of danger sending you into a frenzy.

You didn’t know what to do. You were on a strange spaceship in the middle of nowhere with a potentially deadly alien coming after you. Even worse, you were separated from the Doctor.

You turned around in circles, raking your brain for a way out of this. The more you thought about it, the more panic you felt. It was times like this that you wished your body went into fight mode rather than flight. Maybe then you could be useful.

You hardly had time to react before the alien had dropped down from the vents and onto you. You let out a shout before it grabbed you, the force of it knocking you out.

You woke up in your bed, your head feeling heavy and groggy. The memories came back to you slowly, the ship, the alien, the dead bodies. You shuddered, looking around the room anxiously. Your eyes landed on the Doctor and you let out a sigh.

“You’re awake,” he smiled brightly.

You smiled back at him, feeling a warmth spread across your body.

He moved over to you, gathering you in a tight hug. You buried your nose in his neck, inhaling his signature scent. The calming mix of linen, peppermint, and strong tea. The smell was familiar and comforting, a welcome sensation after the anxiety you had just endured.

“I was terrified, I thought I lost you and t-that thing,” you choked, stumbling over your words. It didn’t really matter, you were with the Doctor now. The steady thumping of his duel hearts provided a baseline that calmed your frantic breathing, effectively quenching your panic.

You finally pulled away from the Doctor enough to look at him. Oftentimes, you found you could learn more from the Time Lord’s eyes than his words.

“Are you ok?” he asked, his eyes riddled with worry.

“I’m ok,” you shook your head, “I’m ok now.”

You really were. It was silly to think that the Doctor could fix everything, but he sure could fix a lot of things. You felt safe with him, especially when he had saved you from random spaceships and homicidal aliens.

“Thank you for getting me out of there,” you smiled. He hugged you again, and you relished in the comfort. You could stay like this forever, wrapped up in his arms.

The next thing he did shocked you. The Doctor kissed you.

He held your face like it was his entire world and placed his lips against yours gently. You melted into the kiss, tangling your hands in his shirt.

You felt tears slide down your face - from relief, from joy, and just pure pleasure. Kissing the Doctor was everything that you had ever wanted and more.

He kissed you like you were his everything, like he couldn’t get enough of you. When he pulled away he looked into your eyes adoringly, a smile creeping across his face.

He kissed the top of your head, the feeling comforting and familiar.

“Stay with me?” you asked, holding onto him.

“Always,” he whispered into your hair.

The Doctor couldn’t find you, and he was starting to worry.

You both had seen what the alien did to people firsthand. He didn’t want you to become its next victim. It could take your mind, and even worse, it could kill you.

A race he had previously believed to be extinct that possessed the power to show you your deepest desires. Lost in self-indulgence, the creature could feed off of your energy until you were drained. The sheer force of it usually caused your head to explode. The corpse with the blown-up face in the hallway should have clued him in. He ridiculed himself for not figuring it out sooner.

Not knowing where you were or if you were still alive was sending the Doctor into a spiral.

He ran through the endless halls, desperately searching for you. He couldn’t hear the alien moving around, and the silence was deafening. He didn’t know if it was on the other side of the ship, well away from you, or if it was busy feasting off of your brain.

As he turned the corner, his fears became a reality.

You were sprawled out on the floor, your shallow breathing the only sign of life coming from you. The alien clung to you, the contact enough to establish a psychic link.

He had to be smart about this if he wanted to keep you alive. He needed to get the alien off of you as quickly as possible and pull you out of the dream-induced state before your mind turned into mush, or worse.

He flattened his back against the wall, his breath coming out in short pants. His mind raced, scenarios playing out one after another like a series of movies. He couldn’t mess up, not if he wanted to make it out of this in one piece. Not if he wanted to save you.

He peered around the corner, looking warily in your direction. The alien only had the capacity for one victim at a time. Considering it was latched onto you, he was mostly safe. That was unless there were multiple on the ship.

He decided it was a risk worth taking and rushed to your side. He picked up your hand, holding it gently. You were breathing, but just barely. He needed to move fast. He said your name a few times, hoping it might rouse you, even if he knew it wouldn’t.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, allowing his fingers to travel towards your head. He hated invading your mind like this, especially without your permission. It was a direct violation, but he couldn’t think of much else to do.

He didn’t know what he had expected to see, but images of your lips on his were certainly not on the list. He dropped the connection instantly, scampering away from your limp body.

He shook his head. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. The alien had gotten in his head. That was the only explanation.

He held his head in his hands, trying to get rid of the residual images of the two of you. He didn’t want to think about it too much. If he did, he might find himself falling deeper into the rabbit hole. He feared it was just the alien showing his own desires.

“It’s just a dream,” he whispered to himself, trying to get ahold. It wasn’t real. It was just what he wanted to see.

Once he had settled his mind enough, he focused on establishing a physic block. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with saving you if he was fighting the alien himself.

You were happy and safe in the Doctor’s arms. He was holding you against his chest, and you could hear the steady beating of his hearts. The sound was comforting and familiar.

You couldn’t think of a single place you would rather be. The Doctor felt like home to you.

He traced circular patterns onto your back. You were sure it was circular Gallifreyan, but you were too blissful to focus on it.

Your peace was violently ruined as you jerked up in pain. Your head was suddenly filled with screaming. The pain shot through your head, causing you to pull away from the Doctor.

You could see the concern on his face, could see his lips moving. He was probably asking if you were okay, but you couldn’t hear it. All you could hear was the noise.

You collapsed to the floor, squeezing your eyes shut. Panic rushed through you, pushing tears from your eyes. You felt like you were dying. Maybe you were.

You curled into a ball, clutching your head desperately. You gripped and pulled at your hair, anything to try and end this pain. It wouldn’t go away, no matter what you did.

You screamed, the sound gruesome and raw. You didn’t know what else to do.

After what seemed like hours, the noise grew to a painful crescendo that drowned out even your own voice.

As suddenly as it all started, the noise ended. The change was shocking, enough to leave you extremely light-headed. The shift from everything to nothing was more torturous than relieving.

You sprang upright, a gasp falling from your lips.

Your eyes darted across the room anxiously. You were back in the TARDIS, but you couldn’t remember getting there. Next to you was the shriveled corpse of some alien. You gasped and shoved yourself away from it, fear coursing through your body.

“It’s ok,” the Doctor said, holding his hand out, “you’re ok.”

“What the fuck just happened?” You gasped, leaning away from him too. Your eyes continued darting around the room in fear. You couldn’t remember much, just running from the monstrous hissing and clicking in the vents. You figured the dead thing next to you had been chasing you, but you couldn’t remember the Doctor being there with you.

“Take a deep breath,” the Doctor urged.

You shook your head and repeated your question, “What just happened?” with a pant.

“That alien,” he gestured to the corpse, “had you in a trance, I helped pull you out of it,” he explained, calmly. He was looking into your eyes with worry.

“A what?” You asked, shaking your head again. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

“The alien on this ship,” he explained. You cut him off with a gasp, the horrors of the control room rushing back to you. The box, the bodies, the blood. You looked down at yourself with fear, half expecting yourself to be maimed.

“It’s ok,” he urged again, “I got rid of it, you’re safe.”

You shook your head, hoping it would all go away.

“It’s gone.”

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

“It’s over.”

A tear slid down your face. You still didn’t know why you were crying. Relief? Fear? Happiness?

The Doctor let you, he knew it was a lot. You had almost died after all. He moved over to you, offering a hand so you could stand up. You let him pull you upright until you were standing.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked, brushing your tears away gently. He was so gentle with you, even in your dreams.

“A hug would be good,” you stuttered. The Doctor didn’t waste any time pulling you into his arms. He held you tightly, like he was afraid that you would slip out of his grip.

Your face came to rest in the crook of his neck, the feeling and smell all too familiar. The tears came faster then, harder too. You couldn’t hold them back.

The Doctor pulled away, looking at you with concern, “what’s wrong?”

“Why couldn’t it have been real?” you sobbed, fairly certain you were incoherent like this, “why can’t you love me?”

You wanted to take it back the minute that you said it. Once you saw the words register with the Doctor you knew it was all over.

You wiped your tears hurriedly, stepping back from him.

“You don’t have to answer that - I don't know why I said that,” you laughed, even though you didn’t find it funny. You were embarrassed that you had shown your cards like that. Embarrassed that you had let the Doctor know how you really felt about him. But even more, you were mad at yourself for asking such a selfish question. For wanting something simply because it felt good to you.

“But I do,” the Doctor whispered back, confused. How could you not see that?

“Yeah, as a friend,” you said, more to the floor than to his face. You were fiddling, moving farther and farther away from him. He felt like you were drifting away, and he wanted you to come back.

“No,” he shook his head vigorously, his floppy hair flying across his forehead.

“It’s ok,” you mumbled, the back of your legs hitting the TARDIS console. There was nowhere else for you to back up.

“No, really. I cannot tell you how much I care for you,” he said, he desperately wanted to reach out to you. He didn’t know how to prove this to you, to show you just how much he truly loved you. He wasn’t good at being emotionally vulnerable, that much he knew. But that didn’t change the way he felt about you.

You shook your head again. “It’s not real”. You were dreaming again, you had to be. That was the only sensible explanation for all of this.

“It is,” the Doctor pleaded. He hated that this was happening, hated seeing you in pain.

“I can show you,” he suggested, holding out his hands. He didn’t have the words to prove it to you, but he had the memories.

“I can develop a telepathic link, I can let you into my mind. I can’t lie to you in there,” he offered. You frowned at his outstretched hands, your brain still processing his words.

“You can say no,” he added, “after what happened today I wouldn’t blame you.”

You thought about it for a moment. You really wanted to believe the Doctor, so you nodded.

The Doctor moved towards you gently, still giving you plenty of chances to recoil from his touch. His fingers landed feather light against your temple. His eyes fluttered closed, and you followed suit.

It was like being pulled through space. There was no warning or preparation, just a sudden feeling of vertigo crashing in on you.

Before you knew it you were inside the Time Lord’s mind. It felt like literally walking around his brain, digging in the creases that he never let anyone see. It wasn’t the kind of experience that you could explain to someone, even if you had wanted to.

For the first time, you saw what you looked like from his eyes. Images of your smile flashed in front of you, the speed of it making your eyes hurt. It was weird to see yourself like this - from someone else's point of view. It was like looking at someone else entirely.

You had only ever seen yourself in a mirror, or pictures. Your face seemed backward to you, and it took a second for it to register that it was. So this is how people see me? You thought, looking at yourself with a newfound sense of scrutiny.

You didn’t get to dwindle on it for too long before the memories started playing. It was like a mental backlog of home videos, and you wondered how the doctor could remember this much of you. Surely he had more important things in his brain than you?

It started in the early days, back when he had first met you. You couldn’t help but notice how young you looked.

“I have room for one more,” the Doctor had offered, leaning against his mysterious blue box casually.

“I don’t know,” you had said, tilting your head, “that ship looks a little small.”

The Doctor grinned at you and opened the door, beckoning you inside. This was always his favorite part.

“It’s… smaller on the outside,” you gasped. The Doctor looked at you shocked, no one had ever said that to him before. The typical response was somewhere along the lines of “It’s bigger on the inside!” followed by complete shock at the defiance of the laws of space. Instead, you looked at the ship with unmistakable wonder, adoration, and curiosity. Your hands danced across the cool metal of the ship, fascinated by everything around you. You had the wonder and inquisitiveness of a child, fascinated by even the simplest of things around you.

“It’s beautiful,” you smiled at the Doctor, the grin taking over your whole face. The Doctor couldn’t help but be amazed at you, at the wonder you had for the world around you. It was beautiful, and he couldn’t look away.

The scene faded, a new one taking its place.

In the new memory, you ran into the TARDIS control room, a giant smile plastered on your face. This memory was later, you could tell not only by your face but by the clear comfort you had with the ship. By now, you were more than comfortable calling it home.

“Doctor!” you laughed, plopping down next to him happily.

“Yes?” The Doctor asked, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Guess what I found?” you asked, an eyebrow quirking upwards. You remembered this day. You had spent hours trying to figure out the organizational system in the TARDIS library. You eventually figured out that there wasn’t really one and gave up. However, in the process, you stumbled across a book.

In the Doctor’s memory, you held up a dusty book ceremoniously.

“A book?” he asked with a laugh.

You shook your head, your smile unfaltering.

“It’s your favorite book,” you laughed, shoving the book into the Doctor’s chest.

“How do you know that?” He asked, thumbing the pages fondly.

“You told me once,” you shrugged, a scarlet flush creeping across your face.

“I did?” He asked, setting the book off to the side.

“When you took me to see Jane Austen,” you explained, leaning against the console comfortably.

“I asked what your favorite book was, and you told me it was this one,” you put your hand on top of the old hardback, fingers brushing across the worn cover. In your memory, you had been looking at the book, too scared to meet the Doctor’s eye. From his perspective, the focus was on your face. The slight smile that tugged at your lips, the way that your hair fell into your face. There was no mistaking the way that the Doctor looked at you at that moment. You had seen it a hundred times on television. You felt a heat flush to your cheeks. Not in the memory, but in the current moment.

The Doctor’s memory moved on, the moment fleeting.

In this scene, he was hunched over the TARDIS console. He hung his head in a way that conveyed distress, his spiky hair falling over cloudy eyes.

“You alright?” you asked, placing your hand on his shoulder gently.

He looked over at you, almost surprised to see you.

The Time Lord’s eyes were always so expressive, and you didn’t like what you saw in them. You couldn’t recall a time you had ever seen them this sad. There was a darkness in them, the kind that worried you.

“I’m always alright,” he said tightly, forcing a sad smile.

“No, no you’re not,” you said, tracing your hand down his arm. You let your fingers interlace with his, and his eyes trained themselves on the connection.

“Why do you stay with me?” He choked, clearly fighting tears.

You frowned, confused by the question. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“The things I’ve done…” he trailed off, lost in his own dark thoughts, “They’re unforgivable.”

“You’re not your past,” you assured, rubbing calming circles on the back of his hand with your thumb.

“I keep doing them. Horrible things,” he shook his head. “I’m a monster.”

“Don’t say that,” you ridiculed. He laughed sadly, turning away from you.

“Hey.” you guided his face back in your direction gently, your touch comforting. “You are a good man.” Your eyes darted between his, taking in anguish laden in them.

“You’re the Doctor,” you stated with a laugh. Your hands traveled down to his chest, resting over his hearts. They thumped a steady rhythm, the beat comforting and familiar to you.

“You have the biggest hearts of anyone I know,” you said, still holding his eye. Your hands moved back up to his face, holding it gently. He closed his eyes, a single tear rolling down his freckled cheek. Your thumb swiped it away without a second thought.

“You are so good,” you reassured.

“I don’t deserve you,” he cried, the tears more frequent now.

“Well, you’re stuck with me,” you chuckled, the slight humor of it bringing a small smile to his face.

“Seriously,” you added. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly.

“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair.

The scene melted away again, a new one taking its place.

“It’s your name,” the Doctor explained as you thumbed a pendant. It was small, hardly bigger than a coin. Engraved on the surface was a series of intertwining circles, a pattern you easily recognized as circular Galliyfreyan.

“How did you?” You asked, your sentence trailing off as you looked up at him in wonder.

“I had it specially made,” he shrugged like it meant nothing.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed, looking down at the necklace in adoration. There was a twinkle in your eyes that you had never picked up on before.

“Can you put it on for me?” You asked holding the necklace out to the Doctor. He nodded meekly, taking the chain from your hands.

His hands lingered on your skin as he fastened the chain around your neck. You could feel the electricity in his touch, the way that he didn't want to let go.

You turned around with a smile on your face, your hand ghosting around the pendant.

“How do I look?” You asked.

The Doctor smiled to himself, taking the moment to memorize your face. The distinct lines of your expression, the shine in your eyes, the joy on your face. All of it was captivating. You were captivating.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, and he meant it.

The scene moved on. You weren’t in the next one, the area unfamiliar to you.

The Doctor was sitting in the console room, his head bowed. Donna stood above him, her arms crossed. The sight of the redhead made you sad, you missed her. You missed your best friend.

“You’re acting like I don’t already know this?” She laughed, the sound painstakingly familiar.

The Doctor looked up at her like a wounded puppy.

“I’ve seen the way you look at them,” she continued, “like they’re the only person in the whole wide world that matters.”

“That’s dramatic,” the Doctor groaned.

“It’s true,” she glared at him. He didn’t argue.

“Are you going to tell them?” She asked, her gaze softening.

The Doctor shook his head, “I can’t.”

“Why?” Donna glared.

“Have you ever heard the saying ‘Is it better to have had a good thing and lost it than to have never had it?’?” He asked her, pain in his eyes.

“That feels contradictory.”

“I mean, I would rather have them as I do than not have them at all,” he explained. Donna sighed and sat next to him, looking at him sympathetically.

“I don't think I could live without them,” he sighed, burying his head in his hands.

The scene faded, and you were left with the Doctor’s face looking at you worriedly. You hadn’t realized you were crying until he wiped the tears from your face.

“Are you ok?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed with concern. He hadn’t wanted to upset you further. That was the opposite of his intentions.

You smiled at him. You weren't crying from sadness, or even anxiety like before. No, these were happy tears. Happy that it was real, that the Doctor really loved you. It was everything you had ever wanted.

You threw your arms around the doctor, holding tightly onto him.

“I love you,” you whispered into his ear. You felt it was about time you said it.

“I love you too,” the Doctor sighed like it was a breath he had been holding in.

“So, so much,” he shook his head, wrapping his arms around your waist. He lifted you off the ground ceremoniously, swinging you back and forth gently.

You laughed lightly, pulling back to look at his face.

“Say it again,” you smiled, relishing in the feeling of his words.

“I love you,” he smiled back, and you knew he meant it.

#10th doctor x reader #10th doctor/reader #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor/reader #the doctor x reader #the doctor/reader #tenth doctor #10th doctor #the doctor #doctor who #fanfic #doctor who fanfiction #fanfiction #david tennant #doctor who bbc #new who #tenth doctor era

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cherubispunk · 4 months

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CHERUB (PART III) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering.

a note from Lucy: Well, this is it folks. The third and final instalment of the unholy trinity that is cherub. The fic that i had no idea would get this amount of traction. The fic that gave me my username, blog theme, the majority of my mutuals and the freedom to explore more taboo areas of writing that I never felt comfortable with doing before. I just wanted to thank you all for all the kind words you’ve shared with me. Comments, reblogs, messages, they all mean the utter world. But i also want to specifically thank @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin who was such a huge help for motivation when wrting each of these. She's been there since the first day of cherub and always let me obsess over dealer!joel with her. Ange, i love you baby. Out of all my fandom experiences, this has definitely been one of the best. I know this sounds a lot like a goodbye completely, but it's not i swear! I just never really knew where this was going, but I think this is a pretty good way to end the series and I hope you agree too. Part of me isn't ready to let go after such a short run, but I honestly have no idea where to go from here so I think I did it as much justice as I could. Regardless, Cherub and Dealer!Joel will forever have a place in my heart all thanks to you lovely lot! Your love means the world to me and you are all so easy to share this with, you've given me an environment to flourish creatively and I'm eternally grateful for that. I wish you all the love, hugs, kisses, and angel wishes in the world!

playlist

wc: 5548 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! Unedited for now, no outbreak, no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, plot? what plot? we all know we're here for the porn anyway, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his late 50s), gore imagry, religious imagry, Smut, very dubcon in theory but both want it bad, grafic smut, P in V sex (unprotected — pleaseee don’t do tis irl i beg of you), teasing, sort of edging? (idk what to call it but he doesnt fuck you until you beg for it lol). nipple play, biting biting biting!!!!!, references to domestic violence, use of pet names, manipulative! joel, stupid stupid cherub, stockholm syndrome, oral (f receiving), cum eating, pussy slapping, Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk, overstimulation. Again, some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile vile vile porn I have written thus far…with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell, i have my own circle now. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

The danger didn't lie in his hands. It didn't sit in his closed first to be suffocated. Choked out until the life of it was compressed. Until its face was blue, then purple and its eyes were bloodshot and streaked with red. The danger lay in your heart. And it thrived off the beating.

What is ‘it’, you ask? Mania.

The Greeks had it nailed down when they split love seven different ways. To the crucifix through its punctured and bleeding palms. All equal, but different. They understood that one love is different to the other. That love can be either obsession, or lingering in the quiet parts of a person's mind. You cannot hold up a mirror to one and deceive into believing it is another. No matter how sweet the lie seeps into the ear. They don't work that way. You were not Lucifer, you had no forked tongue. And your mania wasn't Eve. There was no apple to devour. Only the strong arm of Joel Miller to cling to like a noose.

Some love passionately. Find it in the scathing friction of flesh upon flesh. The heat two bodies make only in sex. You were no body anymore. Merely a corpse for him to dig up and breathe life into whenever he needed relief. So it was not Eros. Some love playfully. In the back and forth of a conversation that makes the mind and heart float in the clouds among the soul. Entwine them together until you are too sedated to know the difference between the three pillars of personal holy trinity. There was nothing lighthearted about Joel Miller. So there was no Ludus. Affection. The subtle, it-is-there-even-when-it-is-not weight of lovers hand in lovers hand. Joel clutched your throat with his heavy hand. He didn't lace your fingers in his like tapestry threads. And he was anything but friendly. So it could never be Philia. He was not unconditional. Familial. Constant. Committed. Long lasting. Selfless. He crept in through the backdoor and took. Then slipped back out. So the thick blood red line was drawn through Storge. Agape. Pragma. The love you had was not for yourself. Without him you hated yourself. Hated how you didn’t feel needed. Or wanted. So Philautia was buried six feet under hot earth, the final nail in the coffin that was lowered into the rotting, thick-with-decaying-mulch, stenching ground. By none other than Mania.

This was something you came to realise as you stumbled from his truck back to your room. His come dribbling down your leg. Luke asleep on the sofa. Months passed of the same thing. He’d take you home from work, only letting you go once he'd had his fill. Played out the sick fantasy from mind to matter, let it bleed through his fingers into fruition. You let it happen for mania. It was the thing inside you that kept you going. Before you thought mania fed off your heartbeat. But now you realised mania fed your heartbeat. The kick it got every second fired the next muted pulse. That's what kept it alive. Energy for energy. You were never one to bite the hand that feeds. That’s a sinner's duty.

—

The usual sight of Luke slumped in his lazy boy, guzzling beer was what you expected. The liquor once again swigged past his lips and dribbling down his stubbled chin. Wiry greying hair greasy on his head, balding. Thinning. Residue from a line on the coffee table. You were never tempted by it before. And you were determined never be a Angel dust statistic like him.

Instead, you opened the flimsy door of your trailer to see him hunched over a small collapsible table. His hand running over his sunken eyes, dragging purple eye bags down with his fingertips in shame. Cards in his other. It had your breath catching in your throat like a hare in a wire snare trap. This time around the small collapsible round table. Cards in his hand. And two other men shared a knowing glance and a grim smile of satisfaction. Him.

Joel Miller.

The tension was thicker than molasses in the room. You only wished it was as sweet. You swallowed it down thickly. It stretched your throat. You watched in morbid fascination when he lay his hand on the table in a fan for all to horror at, a sly smirk slithering over his lips and curling the one corner of it up like a scorpion's tail.

“Full house.”

“Fuck!” And Luke’s hand slapped the tabletop as he folded.

The door clicked. All three looked up to see you. Luke, Joel, and the man who held a familiar resemblance to your own personal devil. With eyes on you, you felt more like that hare in the snare than ever. Clapping eyes on the hungry wolf as mutton dripped bloody from his sneer. Cruel and hungry. You imagined him as that wolf, hyde thick and bristled under your soft fingers as he led you to some deep, dark, thorny place. A place only lit by the eyes of owls who observed while he had his way with you. Ripped your stockings to get to sweet fruit.

“Great, the cunt is home.” Luke spat to the room but you, looking over the table again as he bit his thumb nervously to the edge of the hangnail. “Get me a beer.” Your nostrils flared in defiance at his demand, knuckles pale as fingers furled into a fist. An army of goosebumps had stood to attention all along your arms and the back of your neck. A shiver shattering down your spine. Your heart had enough of its prison of your ribcage in your anger, ramming into it over and over in a frantic hammering. And when that wasn't enough, you felt it in your throat. Among the tightening of your airways. “You hear me girl?” He asked, looking at you. He stood, chair scraping against the floor and you staggered back to the point your shoulderblades hit the door. While he was a thin, wiry man, he had a vicious backhand that stung. Like a vengeful aftertaste. “Y’need me to beat some sense inta ya girl, huh?!” You dared to spare a glance at Joel who was too busy collecting his winnings. You soon to be among them.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, looking to the floor and cowering off to the kitchen to get him his beer.

“Y’short, Luke.” You heard from the doorway, straining to hear the tail end of the conversation. Something about your uncle having it by monday. And then Joel telling him he shouldn’t raise a bet he doesn't have the dough to cover.

It took a second to catch your breath. Tears strung in your eyes and your chest threatened to split in two. Your sternum felt like it was cracking down the middle into clean halves under the weight of your chest. A hand clasped over your quivering lips to bite back a horrible sob and muffle it. Only your palm could know you were crying miserably. So you took a beer from the fridge, heard the hiss as the lid gave way and popped off. It clattered to the linoleum and you bared your teeth at the grating sound, picking it up and tossing it in the bin.

“Here.” You mumbled, placing it unceremoniously on the table in front of Luke.

“Y’got any spare cash on you, girl?” Luke asked, beady eyes staring you down as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink. You grimaced inwardly at the sight of his yellow teeth when he made a satisfied sigh.

“No.”

Joel’s brow raised. You should know by now not to lie to a man who can read you like a book. That's the thing about narcissists. They have a way of being able to understand you like a one word sentence on paper. A quick glance and you’re unravelling with concealed meaning and connotation.

“C’mon, Cherub…gotta have something from workin’ this late in that diner of yours…” You dared to challenge Joel with a look. A look that retreated soon after the advance of the glare of his eye. The same glare of the hungry wolf. Of the cheated man. It was unkind, and unyielding, and did not hold mercy upon the souls of the enthralled, the damned, or the harrowed. You might try to cross through the sentence, or turn the page. Or shut the book entirely. But the truth is still the truth even when you chose not to look. This was the man that knew your mind. Knew your body. And coaxed his will out of you each time. His word was all it took to cave, so you took the folded bills from your apron, flicking through them with a bitten back scowl,

“How much does he owe you?” Joel smiled with amusement, counting through his winnings to see what was short.

“Ninety-eight.”

‘What?” you asked, eyes wide, hurt. Disheartened. Fingers stilling halfway through the small stack. And Joel smirked.

“You heard me, Cherub.”

“Give Joel his money.” Luke warned.

“But it’s not his money! And it’s not yours to give!” You tried, and saw the warning tick of your uncle's narrow jaw. It was always set on edge before he threw a hand. Cast a palm across your cheek in a brandishing. It had you cowering. Relenting. Tossing the money in front of him. If it fell to the floor in its flurry he could pick it up and grovel about it. But Joel never grovelled. Only relished. Then reminded Luke of the money he still owed for the drugs.

And you walked back to the kitchen, biting into your lip again. With the devil and your demon in the next room over, you were sure this could be hell. A buzz filled your ears. Like the constant thrum of flies over roadkill. In festering flesh wounds where broken white of bone poked through gaping, bleeding holes. Blood matted in the hyde of the animal helpless and scattered across the road. A leg here, smashed teeth there. You were the roadkill. Joel was at the wheel of that which mowed you down. Luke was howling in the passenger side.

His boots thumped clumsily over the linoleum and he let out a huff through his nose while he adjusted his low slung jeans in the doorway.

“Cherub?” He asked, clearing his throat huskily — a consequence of the smokes he used religiously. You stood with your back to him, palms flat to the countertop and head hung low to fight the sting of tears simmering from within.

“He threatened to hit me.” You whispered, not turning to face him. If you mattered his ears would strain to meet you halfway. “And you did nothing.”

“Come on, Cherub…don't be like that.” he sighed, and you imagined him pinching the bridge of his hooked nose.

“He took my money. You took my money. How am I gonna get out of here without it?” You croaked, your tired eyes seeing faces of gaping mouths and slate black eyes in the speckled linoleum of the counter.

No reply came from the door. And when you turned it was empty. He had left. The other man had left. The tv was on again with the scream of a woman murdered. And Luke fell asleep in his lazy boy.

—

Another day, another shift. And more horror ensued. At first, what set the nerves thrumming was there was no sign of Luke. His truck was gone from its spot. No drunk slumped on the worn leather settee. No scream or grotesque image on the TV. Merely an empty bottle on the coffee table.

You swallowed, shutting the door cautiously with a muffled click of the latch. You didn't dare call his name. Just pushed it down into your stomach for it to churn the thought up in acid. But the horror jumped back up your throat into a lurid scream at the sight of your mattress tossed to the side. The moth bitten pillowcase on the floor, void of money. Your money. Gone. Someone had rifled through your belongings. Turned your only space into a mess. Strewn clothes, bed sheets, pillows in their haste. All your work. All the nights of living off bitter coffee from the pot at work, scrounging together tips. It made you seethe. The heat was an inferno at your fingertips, nails embedding crescents into your palms. You searched all over for it. But to no avail.

When Uncle Luke came home, he smelled of hard liquor. It was a miracle – or curse – he hadn't wrapped his car around a tree. He gloated, and sneered, and shoved it down your throat in his intoxication that he’d found it under the mattress. Joel had called him, told him you planned on leaving. And he connected the dots. Ransacked your room. Oh, how the man would hate his loose lips when you gave him hellfire.

You expected Luke’s reaction. You knew if he were to ever find out he’d snatch it up in his greedy, grimy hands and take it for himself. He spent all of it. Paid his debt to Joel, gambled some on bad luck bets, drank with the rest. Slugged liquor down his throat and got drunk off your labour. And then left you on your floor with tear stained cheeks and a heart of heavy lead.

You wanted your money. But would you take from the man who gave you your everything? Your sense of being. A religion and faith. You believed in nothing more than the way he held your name between his teeth. You forgot what your real name felt like in the same place. And it occurred to you that he had never said it. Did he know it? You weren't them anymore. You were Cherub.

The sweet and mourning lamb in you wanted to go over just to be his again, and not carry out the plan of taking back what was yours. That which he would see as sin. You felt guilt claw up your throat at the thought alone. It seemed blasphemous to conspire against him. Why do you insist on protecting yourself. You who was the sacrificial lamb?

If you did go – and you let him have you again – you were whole. But at what cost? Could you stand another night of temporary hell under the guise of heaven. Of touch so cold, like ivory or black ice. To have him thumb your skin with blunt endearments and the croon of ‘cherub’ past his chapped lips. Definite like black and white. No escape. What he’d do and how. Whispering them in the stone deaf shells of your ears like they were a sculpture. Pygmalion’s Bride. He’d made you all you were today. Took chisel to marble and carved out his masterpiece. Cherub.

You were soft, and pliable. Wax heated by his flame. You kissed back. You moaned for him. Begged him for his release and not your own. Bruised with his handprint. The warmth of life under flesh. But without him…you returned to marble. Another pretty thing to be gawked at. He tempted you with it because he knew more than anyone, more than god himself who watches these exchanges, that you can't live without him. It was like telling a child not to slip off to the woods in the dead of night. That was a pointless warning. You knew what lay there anyway, what threat it would be. That wolf in his thick bristled hyde. Curled up in his den. You would see it as innocence and vulnerability if you weren't so scared. But you knew when he woke up the teeth would shine again. And they’d tear flesh. Let blood. Gnash bone. Dripping from the glaring white once he finished with your carcass. Your matter between them and your crimson lacing his gums. Who knew being eaten alive could be so pleasurable.

But then again, how could bering alone really be hell if the devil wasn't there?

There is mania in your body. But you can't get it out. It rattles in your head and lungs and glues to the backs of your gnashers. No matter how much you wish to spit it out. It infects your tongue. It welds itself to the matter of your bones. Melts into the cracks between your teeth. Claggy against your tongue. All to show the sweetest of words have the bitterest of tastes. You can feel it swell underneath your skin. In the gap between muscles where it festers and heats you up. Like fever it burns, like the fire that consumes and the pillars that hold the temple up crack, the ground shakes, and the beast rears its ugly head at you. You’re losing your body to him. It's a fight you try to win. You dare to. You give your all, tooth and nail each time in the gaps between. In the silence and hollow that nestles in the middle of the meetings. In the quiet, where no one is around but the cracked plaster of your room. You stopped caring who fired the gun first. You were always the one who got shot down in the end. Right in the stomach. Blood gurgling up your throat in a grotesque plea for help.

All these weeks you had shrunk yourself to the size of a bird in his hands, sang a sweet sweet song of his name, until the squeeze of his first closest off your throat. And the sound stopped altogether. Laid there after the warning. Patient while you had your wings clipped and your freedom taken. And he took more. Took the beating of your heart with his teeth. Took the will to want. The will to love. The will to need anything else, as well as the need to have better. Below you were the foundations. Only now you saw them for what they were, a decaying mess of fragments, the stench of wood rot hot in your nose. A musk like no other. His musk. So in your anger you took an axe to a willow to see how it would weep. You slipped past the sleeping drunk you call Uncle Luke. Out the door, over gravel, past the truck he coaxed you to without the need of a sweet treat. You’d yank the axe from the bark of the weeping willow, its sob echoing in the wind that rustled its drapery of lush green leaves. Leaves that will wilt as sap bleeds from its severed trunk. Take the axe to the wolf. Cut him. Scrotum to throat.

Take back what was yours. And leave those woods skipping.

—

Your knocks descend upon his door in quick raps until he opened it with a grumble. Then a smirk. “Evenin’, Cherub.”

No salvation. No going back. No space among the clouds. Just the fall. You pushed past him into his front room. “Where is it?’ You hissed, tossing the cushions of the couch up. Nothing there. So you left them on the floor and did the same for the airchair. Nothing there either.

“Woah, calm down, girl!’ Joel huffed, reaching for your arm, which you tugged back from him in a new found strength surging you forward, out of his arms. “Where’s what?”

“My damn money, Miller!” You bit back with venom laced spit. A hunger for revenge making you salivate like a bad dog.

“The fuck you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, dickhead!” And he recoiled at your bared teeth, your verbal assault and battery, but went in for his own.

“Watch your damn foul language, girl!” He warned, reaching the end of his already short tether.

“You know how much he stole from me? Three hundred dollars of my hard earned chash. Forget my fucking ticket out of this shithole, I ain’t even paying rent now! And for what? Your god awful drugs!” His nostrils flared, and you watched the vein in his neck bulge under the sweltering heat of his own anger. Coiling inside him. Wounded bitch about to bite back.

“You didn’t have much of a probelm with my drugs after I fucked that pretty little hole of yours. All dumb and needy f’me, Cherub.” You grimaced at the sneer. But the feeling made your knees buckle. The name again. Cherub. You were Cherub. His cherub. “You want ya money back, huh? You can have it.”

That made you stutter. Thoughts skidding to halt at the sight of a brick wall. Crumpled matter as it smashed into it anyway. “What?”

“I ain't giving it to you for free though.”

“You're sick! It’s my fucking money!”

“Not in the eyes of the law its not.” And he folded his great oaks of arms over his chest in satisfaction. Once again one upping you.

“The eyes of the law? Says the fucking drug dealer. I bet you got way worse than coke in duffel over there. Wonder what the law would say about that?” It was said dismissively over your shoulder as you turned to leave. Alas, once again his large hand encompassed your wrist and squeezed. Pulled you back flush to his broad chest. His breath was hot on your neck as he whispered sweetly into your ear.

“Come on now, Cherub. You wouldn't do me in like that would ya? Not when I love ya…”

The way he said it…it didn't seem real. It was false. Comforting but not real. You knew it was a lie. This wasn't love. He didnt love. If he loved you he'd ask for your number then call you. Take you out. Let you cry on his shoulder and drive you home after. Kiss you in the dark for only the walls to see. Let you stay a night or two, or a whole damn week. Give you your damn money back. Stand up to Luke with a closed fist to the face. Leave swelling and a deep bruise on his cheekbone as a first and final warning.

“You love me?” You asked, voice small and hollow in your chest.

“Yeah, Cherub. I love you too.” He cooed, as if he knew you loved him already. All this and nose running over the curve of the side of your neck, tongue trailing hot in pursuit, it had you keeling over in confession at his feet. “You’re so cute when you're angry. Come on now, lemme make those tears go away…and you can have your money back, and we can forget this ever happened.” That tone…it was patronising. It made the sense in you rattle the cage of your ribs. Claw at the bars of bone and run into them like a caged animal. Because that’s what it was. A caged animal. But your heart was holding its hand over its mouth in a trance as it let his words ebb deeper. Somewhere between desperate and divine. But what was his motive?

God, Jesus, all above that is holy, you didn't care! After all this time, it was still no secret, or hushed uttering that Joel Miller was now everywhere in you. Scraping the backs of your teeth, festering like a virus in your bloodstream. Melding to the marrow of your bones. The walls of your cunt.

He still had a devastating habit of seeping through the cracks of your closed lids. Still ready to pillage and plunder his way through your head in its numbed state of sleep. When you could have finally— finally stopped and not felt. But he ebbs deeper. Always would. Always will.

It's what got you here. It would end you if it could. Snuff out your heartbeat and the fire inside of you. All he need do was lick his fingers and press them to the wick. And leave the smoke to string out and curl. You thought you were hungry for love before. But now you realised you were just hungry for the sight of your blood on his lips. The gnashing of you between his teeth. The curl you made of his brow. If it wasn’t devastating, reaping its agony in your silly little fractured chest— you didn’t dare need, nor crave it. You came for the pleasure but you stayed for the pain. And he took again, and again.

So you let him ‘make it up to you’. Let him claw at your clothes until they were scraps on the floor. Tore your stockings. Showed you those gleaming teeth. The wolf. And you, his sacrificial lamb. His Cherub.

“Feel that?’ He asked, with the slow drag back and forth of him inside you, parting you. This wasn’t fast, or rough. This was slow. And it made you need more. Need it faster. Need him hurtling you towards the edge of harrowing oblivion. He knew that. It’s why he took his time with it this time around. “Yeah. You do.” Joel answered for you. You never had to answer. But often he made you say it from your own quivering lips. Just to have the taste of the words from your tongue bleed into his. The neverending praise. “Why would you wanna leave that Cherub?” You couldn't answer, only let out a soft sob. “Huh? Answer me, Cherub. Why’d you wanna fuckin’ leave that?” And he punctuated it with pulling out to the bulbous head of his clock, then slamming back in with one sharp thrust. And then he was still.

You whined a shallow gasp into his mouth. But he didn’t kiss you. Joel never kissed you. His teeth sinking into your bottom lip shut you right up before his tongue delved deeper into it. The thumb of the hand that slithered between your legs rolled over your clit, making you mewl over the buzz of electricity causing you to clamp down on his thick, full cock. You were so eager for more. Anything more than what he was giving you. He smirked into your mouth when he felt your hips buck forward, trying your damn hardest to push his cock deeper into you. Silly little cherub. You should know better than to defy God. “See? Felt good didn’t it?” You nodded as much as you could in your current piston.

“Mhm.”

“See what you can have if you stay. Why fight it cherub?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You gonna listen then, Cherub?”

“Yes. Yes! I’ll listen, just-” You shuddered at the thought of it, tears brimming at the the threshold of your eye. ”Please.”

“Say it.” He waited, wanting you to beg for it in the pretty way he knew you could. The choir voice. The songbirds hymn. The whole time his eyes did nothing but stare you down hungry at the sight of you falling apart from nothing but a hand to your throat and a single his throbbing dick buried in your aching cunt. It all pooled down into your centre, creating a rush your head had trouble keeping up with. “Tell me why you wanted to leave.”

“I dunno-” You stuttered, once again rolling your hips up. His hand at your throat pressed into your skin again, harder. It choked you. It had you drawing in a sharp, meagre breath. And he pulled out, running the underside of himself through the hot, drooling seam of your cunt. You shivered when the tip brushed up to your clit momentarily. The bead of precome at his slit smearing into your sex, mixing with your slick. “I dunno, Joel. I- I just wanted my money. I just wanted out. I hate it.” You babbled through closed eyes, chest heaving with sobs, and hot tears ran thick down your flushed cheeks.

“You hate it, huh?” He mocked and crooned, still catching your clit with the tip of his cock, hips waxing and waning in a slow roll. “You hate me too?” He knew the answer. But again, it was the satisfaction of knowing you were wrapped around his finger. Ready to bend over backwards for him. Him seeping into you through the cracks of your ribs, the gaps between your teeth. The opening of yourself to the twisting knot of denial within you. Your back arched like the lofty roof of a chapel, legs parting like its heavy doors. He followed you with hunger. You opened your mouth to speak but he squeezed momentarily on your throat again, oxygen starvation and the smell of him dizzying you. He relished in the whimper that he garnered from you. That and how he left you breathless just from his cruel touch.

“No.” You garbled as his thumb unhinged your jaw. Saliva in your mouth pooling while his thumb pressed your tongue down, bitter with a smokers telltale tobacco staining. It slipped past your lips, dribbled down his digits making a sticky mess at the curve of his thick wrist. He drew up a glob of saliva in his throat, watching as it drooled thickly, gluttonously, past his lips into your waiting mouth. He watched as you gagged on it, and then he let your jaw go so you could close your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste on your tongue. For what did it matter anymore? One day, you’ll be nothing but dust. Bronchioles in lungs will mimic roots. Navels will copy trunks. Organs will feed worms. Ribs will fossilise and lips that are kissed will mould back to Mother Nature. It's all you have ever been. Quick. Convenient. Easy to please, eager to help. Waiting lips, wanting cunt. Warm, never warm enough. But he kept you like a butterfly in a glass jar. He let you see freedom but never experience it. Why need it when you had the stretch of him inside you. The feeling of him, heat to heat with your sex.

“You want this, cherub? Wanna be stuffed full of me again?”

“Always wanted it, Joel.” You mumbled into his mouth, sniffing back the last this spurt of tears, hypnotised. His hand wrapped around his cock, the large splay of his palm did nothing to dwarf its size with he jacked himself once, twice, three times to the sight of you. He squeezed the base with hiss, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth after cursing under his bated breath. He was thick, flushed, the tip swollen and leaking, drooling greedily with a rivulet of precum down the underside of his length. He trod a path with his hands down to your breasts, kneading each one between his palms with a pinch before guiding himself back into the mouth of your heat, your cunt swallowing him down to the base. The needy roll of your hips into his showed just how desperate you were. He groaned at the start of the friction between you, and slowly dragged back out of you, moving just as slowly back inside. He repeated this twice, and then he let loose. The motion turned into a needy clash of his hips to yours. Again. Again. Again. Somewhere along the sting of passion and heat, his hand wrapped around your throat, feeling the flex of it as you swallowed under his palm. He bit down into your neck, reaching out from you as his hips slammed erratically. His heavy balls slapping against your ass with each rut forward of his unrelenting. The way he fucked you, was like holding a knife to your throat. It grounded you in the most harrowing way to each of his breaths. His panting in your ear. It swallowed you whole. Mad your legs wrap around his waist and your hips keen up into him.

Your cunt drooled down his shaft, down to the base, down the sensitive skin of his cock. He growled and hissed in your ear, teeth closing around your earlobe, his hand dragging back up and grip tightening around your neck. Getting off on the feeling of your pulse under his thumb.

You felt the knot tighten. And tighten. Right in the pit of your stomach, deep in your sopping wet cunt where the mouth of your cervix met his fucking. The walls of your cunt sucking him back in as the angle of his hips snapped up into the spot that had you seeing entire constellations. They darted to and fro across your vision. It blurred the edge, spots of dark matter, deep black, the colour of oblivion slinging over the back of your eyes that now burned with tears of pleasure. His fingers dug deeper into malleable flesh, gripped tightly at your hip with his free hand, thumb brushing over your hip bone down your mound to toy with your clit after a slap to it. And it was the action that sent you spiralling, babbling his name nonsensically among a string of curse words. So pretty and fucked out beneath him. Joel couldn’t help but stare smugly as your eyes rolled back into your head when your orgasm hit like a freight train. He came undone soon after, his climax hitting a crescendo with a growl bitten into your shoulder, bruising and brandishing you with his mark again.

He pulled back, leaving you to the mercy of the cold. Watching was his hips moved again to fuck his release back into you. Your hole quivered in protest, and you squirmed under him. “Don’t be fucking ungreatful now, Cherub.” You relented, going still and boneless on the mattress. Limbs unfurling from their tension. “That's it. Take it. Take it all.” He groaned smoothly. Just like the roll of his hips. He fucked it slowly back into you. And you took his release inside you to keep. “Good girl, Cherub.” He whispered, kissing your lips in a tender dichotomy. Not letting you rest until he was satisfied you took every drop of him. Afterall, it was all you’d have left of him until he next chose to pick you up. All the while, he trailed his tongue back down to your breasts, pressing the flat of it to your nipple, drawing it with a sharp suck into his mouth. Pressing the blunt of his teeth into your flesh. Letting the taste melt on his tongue. Salty with your sweat. He did the same to the others. When he went soft inside of you, and his hips stilled. He slipped out of you with hitched breath, the pad of his fingertips tracing your abused, used sex. Your legs twitching when he rolled your clit under two fingers. “I said stop squirming.” He grunted, landing another slap to your pussy. It made an obscene wet sound. His come dribbling out slowly.

“Open your mouth.” Joel commanded, and you did. Waiting for whatever he had planned. He licked a hot strip from your asshole to your cunt, pressing his tongue in to drag out some of his release. And he climbed back up to spit it into your mouth. A hand clamping down on your jaw. “Don’t swallow. Close your mouth.” And you did with the side of his thumb clamping it shut for you. “Taste that?” You nodded in response. It was hot, heavy and thick and salty to taste. Divine. “Show me.” You opened again, his creamy spend diluted amongst your saliva and he smirked. Clamping your jaw shut again. “Swallow.”

Joel watched in open mouthed amusement as the delicate column of your throat rippled under muscle contract. “Good girl, Cherub. Remember that taste next time y’feel like leaving again.” He warned in a growl. And you nodded, swallowing your pride. Your fear. Your mania aiding in shoving it down your throat to dissolve in acid. Once again you were in those deep dark woods. The one where the wolf lay. Remnants of you in his teeth. The willow is still weeping, slashed in half. The axe free of his bloodshed by the entrance of his den. The owls' eyes still lit the scene of sin where overhead the starlight was snuffed out by the tangle of branches thick in their black greenery.

You never got your money back. Maybe one day you'd get out of this town. But the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering. Even angels can’t resist a slice of that heaven. Fallen angel. Wounded bitch. Cherub.

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carabalism · 1 year

Text

baby

pairing(s) twd x teen!reader, rick grimes x teen!reader (platonic)

synopsis y/n went through hell and back for a baby she didn’t even know the name of. but now she finally meets the father of the baby.

warning(s) canon-typical violence/gore

masterlist

“you’re gonna be okay.. shhh..” y/n whispered to the baby wrapped to y/n’s chest securely with a sheet covering her. y/n had rubbed her body with the guts of a walker to camouflage amongst the walkers, but she couldn’t bring herself to put any of it on a baby, “we got this baby.”

y/n had judith hidden under the sheet, so that her scent would be covered too. she was relieved that the baby made little to no noise, occasionally crying when she needed something, but this wasn’t such a fussy baby.

“we��ll get to terminus,” y/n mumbled, every inch of her body ached, burned, hurt. her eyes stung with every blink they took, her eyelids heavy from her lack of sleep and her throat dry. the weight of two bags was getting to her, but she urged her body to move on. for baby.

y/n had found the prison, destroyed and littered with walkers. but she also found judith, alone and screaming with walkers approaching. y/n saved judith. the teenage girl had saved the baby’s life and dedicated everything she had to return the baby to its family. no matter how long it took. she was determined to find out what her name was - “baby” didn’t seem like such a good guess.

explosions.

up the track there were explosions.

up the track was terminus.

a newfound energy kicked into y/n’s body and she began running towards the explosions. tears stung her tired eyes as she ran, holding judith as closely as she could. this was her last hope. terminus was supposed to be it.

a small cabin caught her eye and she decided that it would be a good place to hide out until she could be sure the coast was clear. with her gun raised she swung the door open quickly, ready for anything. what she found was a man tied up on the ground and another man with a beanie on, leaning against the wall.

“what the hell is going on here?” y/n glared at both the men, her gun pointing at the man not tied up.

“put the gun down, it’s not what it looks like.” tyreese raised his hands, “he’s from terminus… terminus isn’t what it seems.”

y/n eyed tyreese suspiciously, but one look at the smirking man on the ground, she could tell who the real threat was.

“i don’t want to have to hurt any of you, i’m just trying to find someone.” y/n explained, her gun still raised and aimed at the tied up man.

“i’m tyreese, if you put the gun down i’ll help you look for them as soon as this is over,” he smiled, his words sounding sincere. y/n wondered how he had survived so long but remain kind. she didn’t remember the last time a stranger was nice to her.

“i’m y/n…” y/n looked down at the dirty blanket covering judith, she lifted it slightly to show tyreese her head, “this is baby.”

tyreese’s eyes widened and he looked at y/n in complete shock, “is she..”

“can’t believe there’s kids having kids now and calling them baby! what a joke.” the man tied up on the ground laughed.

“she’s not mine, asshole.” y/n rolled her eyes, “i woke up one day and heard explosions, when i got there everything was already gone… it was a prison.”

“a prison?” tyreese’s voice shook, the realisation hitting him that judith was alive, “judith..?”

y/n looked at tyreese in shock, “judith?”

“judith grimes,” tyreese nodded, he seemed slightly dazed, but happy, “can i see her?”

y/n hesitantly pulled the blanket off judith and revealed the baby to the man, “you know her? do you know her parents?”

“this is so touching,” a scoff left the man’s lips and he rolled his eyes.

“you speak again and i’ll kill you.” y/n glared at the hostage.

“big guy over here won’t let you.”

“no one has to get hurt.” tyreese sighed, not wanting the teenage girl to shoot the man. especially not a kid.

“do you know baby’s parents?” y/n repeated her question, “sorry- judith.”

“her father… i knew him, but i haven’t seen him since the prison fell, we were hoping to find him at terminus if he made it. that’s where he would go if he made it.”

y/n sat down on a chair in the corner of the cabin, she unwrapped judith from her midriff. rocking her back and forth, y/n whispered to the baby about how she’d see her father again.

“you realise you’re going to have to kill me right?” the man spoke up again, making y/n roll her eyes.

“we don’t.” tyreese stared at y/n, silently pleading with her, “we don’t.”

“c’mon man, he’s tied up and you said he’s bad people,” y/n argued, “keeping him alive is doing no good to anyone. he’s a threat.”

“he’s tied up, you said yourself, he can’t hurt us.” tyreese pleaded.

everything felt heavy. there was a constant ringing that y/n couldn’t get rid of, her body moved on its own as her vision went in and out of focus. a shiver ran down her spine and in response a sob leapt out of her mouth as she hugged the baby close, tucking judith’s head under her chin.

blood stained her hands and each glimpse of red that she caught, the more she sobbed.

“hey.. hey, look at me,” y/n heard a distant voice, “look at me, hey!”

y/n stared into tyreese’s eyes and choked on a sob, “i’m s-sorry.”

the prisoner the two kept had inevitably attempted an escape and when tyreese couldn’t put a stop to him, y/n did. she gutted the man. stabbed him repeatedly. and finally a stab to the head to permanently end him.

“don’t be sorry.” tyreese shook his head, holding y/n by the shoulders as he crouched down in front of her, “you did good. you saved judith.”

“i-is she o-okay?” y/n tried to speak, but each word was almost impossible for her to say. she kept gasping for more air between words.

“she’s fine, she’s okay, we’re all okay.” tyreese smiled, “we have to get up now, you can finally meet her father.”

“really?” y/n whispered, she was slowly slipping out of her daze and noticed the group of people standing a few metres away.

“yeah,” tyreese grinned and helped her up, despite her shakiness she walked with tyreese to the group of people. a boy ran to her and immediately took judith from her grasp and hugged her. a man wasn’t so far behind and when he reached her he wrapped his arms around her and engulfed her in a tight hug.

“thank you,” the man cried, “thank you.”

y/n hugged the man back, a smile on her face. she had returned baby back to her family. she completed her mission.

“if she responds to the word baby sometimes, that might be because i started calling her that.” y/n smiled nervously as the man pulled away.

“i can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done,” he shakes his head in disbelief, grabbing judith from the boy and holding her close, pressing a kiss on her head and holding his tears back, “how old are you?”

“I’m fifteen? maybe sixteen..” y/n paused to think, “i’ll go with sixteen.”

“how many walkers have you killed?” he asked, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“a lot, never kept track though,” y/n shrugged.

“how many people have you killed?” rick questioned.

y/n’s face immediately turned sour, the question caught her off guard and made her mind flash memories she wanted to forget.

“two.”

“why?”

y/n looked down at judith who had fallen asleep in her father’s arms, “they tried to kill your baby.”

rick nodded, taking in the girl’s words, “i understand. i’m sorry you had to do that.”

“i wouldn’t have done anything different, i wanted to learn her name rather than calling her baby all day,” y/n smiled softly at judith, “she’s great company too.. totally nails the small talk.”

rick laughed and smiled at his son, who was smiling back at him, holding onto judith’s hand.

“i’m rick grimes, this is my son carl,” rick introduced himself and carl, “you already know judith of course.”

“she’s told me a lot about you guys,” y/n smirked.

“she spoke?” carl’s eyes widened. rick pulled his son into a side hug and just laughed.

“she was joking,” he whispered to carl.

“the others are michonne, maggie, glenn, daryl, carol, tara, abraham, rosita, sasha and eugene,” rick pointed everyone out, “you’re free to join us, i owe you.”

“i’m y/n,” y/n grinned, “i’m glad i found you.”

#twd x reader #twd x teen!reader #rick grimes x teen!reader #rick grimes x reader #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #twd

744 notes · View notes

l44serbeam · 1 year

Text

— TIRED OF YOU ʚɞ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

← 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 | 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞

warnings — blood, gore, swearing, violence, disassociation, weapons

The second Ellie stepped foot out of Jackson to find y/n, she no linger had control of her body. She walked hours and killed dozens of infected and kept going with empty eyes. When she comes across a note leading her to y/ns whereabouts, she doesn’t hesitate to follow it. On the other hand, y/ns stumbling through her surrounds deliriously, helplessly trying to find supplies or anything to help keep her alive.

“No! You’re cheating!” Y/n hissed, leaning over the table to smack Ellies hand.

“Im not cheating! You just suck at this game.” Ellie snickered, placing down another card.

“Its not a game of skill dumbass.” Y/n rolled her eyes, and placed down another card.

“Then your luck sucks.” Ellie replied before placing another card. “UNO!” The girl barked, her voice coming out more eager than warranted and jumping in her seat.

“YOU BITCH!” Y/n yelled, laughing with skepticism laced into her voice.

“C’mon y/n/n. You know what you gotta do.” Ellie said, her tone jokingly condescending.

“Fuck you.” Y/n said as she placed the only usable card she had.

Ellie didn’t spare a second to slap down her final card, jumping up and raising her arms in the air and laughing hysterically.

Y/n laughed as she watched Ellies antics, at that time being her best friend of a year and a half.

Three gentle knocks on the door made the two stop for a second, the door opening to reveal Joel.

“Whats going on in here? I can hear you from the porch.” He said but not in a chastising manner.

“Ellie being a cheater is what.” Y/n said as she grabbed the Uno cards and began shuffling them.

“Am not!” Ellie squeaked. “Shes just mad shes shit at every card game ever.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and flipped off the girl before her, igniting a hyena kind laughter from her.

“I think this games gonna fuel a rivalry.” Joel chuckled slightly. “Y/n, Maria is asking for you to talk about some job for tomorrow.”

“Shit.” Y/n cursed under her breath. “Yeah let me grab my stuff and ill go to her.”

Joel nodded and closed the door.

“What job for tomorrow?” Ellie asked, squinting her eyes at y/n suspiciously.

“Shes making me pick up some grunt work. Says itll help me ‘find peace’ and ‘distract myself’.” She said, saying the reasons in mocking voices.

“The fuck. You’ve been having shitty jobs for like weeks now. Thats not fair no one else our age is doing those jobs why do you have to?” Ellie began, starting to get riled up to what in her eyes was unfair.

“Its fine Els i don’t mind. Not like I have anything else to do. I like being busy.” Y/n reasoned, shrugging off Ellies worries.

“You’re going to get burn out quickly y/n if you’re doing this shit every day.”

Y/n turned around to face Ellie and crossed her arms and looked at the gurl with round eyes. “Ellie im fine. Ill be fine. If i get burnt out then i rest but i enjoy this. I get to go into the forest around us and it’s peaceful.”

“I still don’t think you should let them make you do these things y/n. I don’t want to see something happen to you.”

“Ill be ok Ellie. If anything happens to be ill beat up whoever made it happen.”

Ellie laughed and looked at her best friend, her fave soft and eyes happy. The sun that shone against her back casted an aura of gold around her head and hair. Ellie couldn’t identify the pitting feeling in her stomach, but it was there, swallowing in on herself.

“I dont doubt it y/n/n.”

The night was hollow and bloody, Ellie crouched over a lazily burning fire. She looked into it, her eyes empty and glazed.

It’d been over 48 hours since Ellie had left Jackson.

Shed walked and shed walked. She checked every building shed come across, killing dozens of infected along the way.

After almost a day of walking, shed finally reached the warehouse that Luke had marked on the map, anxiousness and excitement picking at her chest as she looked at the rusted building.

Shed desperate begged whatever was above to find her. To walk into that factory and the only attack shed receive was y/n’s warm embrace.

But, Ellie knew her life had a habit of not going the way she wished.

Searching through the factory, she found dozens of dead infected littering the floor, the blood pooling around them still shimmering against her flashlight. It hadn’t been ling since they were put down. She inspected their wounds, the majority having stab wounds instead of gunshots.

She knew. She knew that y/n was the one to do this. That her y/n, pained and hungry had killed dozens of these infected in a fight to save her life.

This conclusion Ellie had come to was only solidified when she came across an opened closet in the first floor, blood staining the ground of it. But what caught Ellies attention wasn’t the blood of the ruthless scratches carved into the door. It was the arrow sticking out the wall by the door, pinning a polaroid onto the wall. It was simply a picture of the forest, green blooming everywhere and the suns rays reflecting off the leaves.

Ellie knew this was y/ns way of telling the girl she was alive.

With hope prickling at her ears, Ellie took the arrow and polaroid and went off to try to track her.

Now, the day later, Ellie had set up a fire to warm herself before she kept on her search, her feet aching in pain and her arms burning.

She didnt care how long shed have to be out there, she knew she had to find her. She couldn’t bare knowing that the last time the two interacted was an argument where she’d said things she couldn’t even think of repeating.

When Ellie pulled off the arrow, not one, but two polaroids fell, another one hidden behind.

The e’s. The handwriting only confirmed the polaroids and arrows belonging to y/n.

Staring down at the miswritten e’s and scratchy writing, Ellies eyes solidified as she breathed in deeply.

She stuffed it into the pocket and exited the warehouse, searching for the sign that was referenced in the note.

After walking around the perimeter, Ellie found a path that went downwards and led to the near by deserted town below the elevated land. Next to the beginning of the path was a big yellow metal sign with a black arrow pointing down the path.

Ellie straightened her back and breathed in, flicking open her pocket knife in a smooth action and holding it readily at her side. She began lunging down the path, alerted and ready to get through anything and anyone.

Step after step, breath after breath, y/n stumbled into the beginning of the town, seemingly unbothered and unclaimed.

Her head was faint and hazey, the plentiful blood that had rolled down her legs had practically dried onto her skin and muddy sweat beaded at her neck.

For the past 24 hours, y/n had been painfully taking down infected. Her lack of supplies left her clutching onto holding reality.

The burning sun beamed down on her for hours, evaporating basically all the water from her body, but no where was there any replenishment for that loss of water. Her fatigue weighed down on her and the empty grovel of her stomach made her fragiler.

A pharmacy.

Y/n felt the world around her sharpen when spotting the weathered words on the wall of the building before her, reading 24 HOUR PHARMACY.

She peered in through the windows as best as she could before losing her sense of control and pushing her way inside.

She looked around desperately, the place obviously not exactly flourishing with left behind items.

“Bingo.” y/n whispered upon finding a few supplies hidden behind the checking counter.

A bottle of alcohol, a few rags, and a protein bar. Desperately she collapsed to the ground to claw at the supplies, ripping the cap off the alcohol and pouring it on a rag. She leaned to her leg and hesitantly held the cloth over the wound on her leg.

Taking a few shaky breaths as she prepared herself of the torturous burn she was going to feel.

3… 2… 1…

Hot, red, flashing pain shot through y/ns body, her moth hissing and head hitting the counter behind her. “Jesus fucking christ.” She groaned, reaching over to the protein bar as her other hand held the rag. She ripped it open with her teeth and ravished the thing, the chocolate flavor blessing her dry, swollen tongue.

But what is it that they say, all food tastes amazing when you’re starving, right?

“Ok boys lets do this quickly!”

The hairs on the back of y/ns neck immediately stood and the fog in her brain subsided.

“Groups of two, alright? Leo and Nick with me, rest go. Kill anything and anyone you come across.” The voice of the yelled from outside the pharmacy, close enough to a broke glass that y/n could clearly hear their conversation.

Her hand desperately clawed at the ground around her is search of the knife shed had all along. Once grabbed, she pulled it against her chest, arm at ready for any sudden action.

Then, the sudden noise of the ring of the pharmacy door opening, followed by the shuffling of feet.

“Look ‘round. See what you can scrounge up.” A dark, rough voice ordered from the door.

Y/ns grip on her knife tightened and her breathing settled.

Go.

@lady-curpse @depressionandobsessionsessi-blog @muthafuckingstargirl @slut4vampire @evangelinejxy @lanasluverr @galacticstxrdust @lazyotakuofficial @agalswrittingobsession @dania7361 @jolieetoile @star-j0 @macaroni676 @gocryariver @a-beee @elliewilliamsissobabygirl @daddysfavoritesexkitten @dergy @dakota-dream @hangel0veb0t @randomhoex @l0v3e1i @stvrl1ght333 @ilovemydinoboi @bertandfearnie @luvwanda @hotgirlsshareaccounts @boobabietch @lazyotakuofficial @imaginexred @miadean

a/n — the way this is a day late and i havent posted the robin fic i was supposed to a few days ago😭😭 im so sorry yall this week has been CRAZY. i went to my first ever pride this weekend and got fuuuuucked up, i saw a few friends of mine perform (but it was a monday night and felt the consequences of my actions the next morning), i bought my first car ever by myself 🥳🥳🥳(finally a bitch can get out of the public transportation shes been trained to use since she was like 10💀), and i did an interview for a new job im trying to get and it went surprisingly well. these next few days ill b posting a bunch of stuff ti make up for my delays so i hope u enjoyyy.

#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ #lgbtq #the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams #ellie williams angst #ellie williams tlou #abby anderson x reader #joel miller x reader #the last of us part 2 #the last of us x reader

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callmelola111 · 8 months

Text

maniac ♡ e.w. oneshot

✄ - - - - inspo track - - - - maniac

synopsis: lies are spewed and truths are revealed when a precarious friend group joins together once more on the 1 year anniversary of their estranged friends disappearance.

| 𓆣 | pairing & wc: ellie williams x reader. wc: 4.4k

| ❀ | cw: 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns but other than that all descriptors are gender neutral, heavy violence blood and gore, oc deaths, drug use, homophobia (use of the word "dyke" once. i'm a lesbian so don't y'all try to cancel me), heavy language, mentions of reader having anxiety and panic attacks, lots of tension and fighting, ⭑ SMUT ⭑ ... thigh riding (r on e), dom!ellie, sub!reader, fingering (r receiving), pet names (baby, angel, etc.)

a/n: hi lovelies!! long time no see... i know this is a little different from my usual stuff but i honestly really love how it turned out. i spent a good chunk of time planning this out and then even longer writing it so i really hope y'all love it! i want this to be a fresh and exciting read for everyone. if you do end up enjoying the fic, any kind of note is greatly appreciated! ur fave tumblr writers thrive off all y'alls support! anyways, love love love you guys!!! ♡~ lola

To everyone else, it was a summer like any other. But when it came to you and your friends there was something missing this time– someone missing. This absence felt extra heavy as tomorrow would be the 1 year anniversary of August’s disappearance, and the annual camping trip was right on time with it. It had been tradition for as long as you could remember, but its memory was now tainted and left something that used to be so sure, completely up in the air…

✄ - - - - ♡ - - - -

The five of you squeezed into the small 4 person booth at your favorite local diner; Tj’s Eats. In one seat sat Lottie and Reid. The girl’s loose, dark curls gathered at the boy's shoulders as she snuggled into him, still clearly in the honeymoon stage of their relationship. On the other side of the white marbled table sat Xavier and Ellie, with you perched on her lap, of course, as she insisted to everyone that it was “necessity” and “there really, really was no more room”. In all actuality, all it took was an extra chair to fit the five, but she was your girlfriend, and even after years of dating you still couldn’t get enough of each other.

“Can someone just say what we’re all thinking, please! I can’t with this tension,” Lottie complained, finally snapping out of the cuddle fest with her red-headed boyfriend.

“What are we all thinking Lottie, huh? Since you know everything,” Xavier retaliated, guising his irritation with a poorly crafted remark.

“Don’t be fucking mean,” she said, kicking him under the table.

“Yeah seriously chill out,” Reid echoed.

“God, enough with this shit, you guys are driving me insane!” Ellie butted in. You, however, paid no mind to this type of bullshit, as fights like this had become a frequent occurrence in your group of friends ever since that godforsaken night. So you continued to down your chocolate shake and drown out the bickering with a light hum. That is, until you were rudely interrupted by Xavier’s insulting words.

“You’re being real fucking quiet over there, Y/n. Do you really have nothing to say? You can’t just tune us out forever. We’re your fucking friends.”

You felt your hands balled into tight fists, “Fine. You want me to say something? I’ll say something–my brother is still missing and if you’re even thinking of going on that stupid fucking trip this year, you can count me out.”

“Not going on that trip isn’t gonna magically bring him back. August is gone and we can’t stop living our lives because of it,” he retorted, going just a tad bit too far. This was the last straw and quickly sent you up and out of your warm place in Ellie’s lap. She grasped at your wrist trying to pull you back into this mess of a friend group, but to no avail.

“Now look what you’ve fucking done!” Ellie yelled at your defense as you disappeared into the bathroom.

✄ - - - - ♡ - - - -

Now face-to-face with your tear-stained cheeks in the mirror, your head fell down between your shoulders, slowly letting the pent up emotions roll off your back. Ever since you lost August, life had become 10 times harder. As much as your younger self would’ve hated to admit it, he was your rock–your annoying brother–but still, your rock. This confession made you feel even worse though, because deep down, there was a part of you that blamed yourself for how things happened. Maybe if you would’ve stopped fighting, or told the truth to the police, or took it easier on the booze and coke that night, August would still be here. There was nothing you could do now though. This was your reality and you had to accept it.

With that you reached into the pocket of Ellie’s varsity jacket that engulfed your figure, hoping to find a tissue to blot away your tears and smeared mascara. Instead, you were met with a small polaroid. You flipped it over to reveal a bewildering picture of Xavier and August from the last night he was seen. Their arms were swung around each other’s necks, both flashing toothy smiles at the camera and you could recall being the one to take this photo. The one thing you didn’t remember is the black sharpie captioning the bottom of the image. It read “don’t believe his lies”. Your head began to race with countless questions and zero answers. The biggest one being, what the fuck was Xavier lying about?

The wet bathroom countertop dug into the palms of your hands as you took a second to decide the best course of action, but all you could come up with was shutting the fuck up and pretending it never happened. You weren’t ready to relive last year all over again. Not yet–not ever. So you paraded back into the dining room, eyes still damp and hands still shaking. Ellie felt your energy immediately and knew it was time to go.

She glanced at you for confirmation and then turned to address the group, “I think it’s time for me and Y/N to head out. Sorry guys.” Xavier shot a look of discontent and Ellie mouthed something along the lines of “I’m sorry, I’ll talk to her I promise”, which seemed to slightly ease the tension he was previously carrying in his shoulders. She then slid out from the booth, slipped her left hand into the pocket of your denim shorts, and ushered you outside to her red convertible.

The drive back was silent but as Ellie’s hand gently stroked the flesh of your thighs and the other steered you knew there was no way she could have anything to do with that polaroid. But you had to find out who did. Just as you were nearing your house though, Ellie’s gentle touch quickly shifted to a handsier approach and it was clear she had other plans for the night.

“Els?” is all you had to say before she quickly pulled over and jumped to the backseat, pulling you along with her. She positioned herself in the middle seat opening up her legs in a dominating stance resembling a manspread. You eagerly climbed atop her lap, placing soft kisses up her veiny neck and extending them to her defining jawline. This was just what you needed to release the tension that had racked up from tonight's events. The moon was hitting your face just right and Ellie felt so lucky to have you in that moment.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful” she murmured, slightly breathless from the overwhelming touch of your lips. You smiled against the crook of her neck and dove into the girl's mouth for a deep and passionate kiss. She returned the exchange with even more fire, graciously slipping her tongue into your entrance. With each second things got messier and your hips got looser, slowly grinding into Ellie’s denim clad thighs. She couldn’t help but chuckle just a little at your desperation, to which you buried your head back into her shoulder, encasing her in your arms for better traction. Ellie’s hands swiftly found the curves of your hips and rocked them back forth to aid you in your journey towards climax. That is until your anxiety got the best of you at the sound of rustling coming from outside the car.

“Ellie?”

“What does it not feel good?” she questioned.

“No, no– It’s just… I swear I just heard something coming from behind the car.”

“I mean… we are parked by the woods. It’s probably just some animal or the wind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes babe, I’m sure.” she assured you with a firm squeeze to your thigh and you let your worries go. This time Ellie was on top, laying you down across the seats to hover over you alluringly. Your lips found hers once again as she slipped a hand down your shorts and past your panties to meet the slick that had been piling up the whole drive. You let out a strangled moan into Ellie’s mouth as her rough digits met the throbbing bud of nerves. She took that as a sign to speed up the pace and slip in a curved finger to hit that perfect spot. You jerked in pleasure, eyes closed, almost reaching your climax from just those few movements. Ellie felt as your walls tightened around her and knew you were close.

“Look at me baby. I wanna see your eye’s when you cum all over my fingers.” she cooed. You obeyed and parted your lids open to reveal a disturbing image followed by a frightened scream escaping your puffy lips. Ellie jumped back at the clearly non-orgasmic exclamation, letting out a string of concerned “what? What??”’s. All you could do is point your shaky hand towards the message written in the condensation of the back windshield.

“I know about last summer…” Ellie read out, voice as shaky as your extremities. Both of your fight or flight responses were triggered; you choosing flight and her of course choosing fight. The door to the cherry red car flung open and Ellie climbed over and out of her seat to trail the perimeter. You cowered down, eye’s filled with tears as Ellie recklessly yelled out to whoever wrote the message.

“Hello? Anybody out there?”, she kicked at the rocks in frustration, “Seriously who the fuck are you? This isnt fucking funny!”

“Ellie, will you please just get back in the car? They’re gone!” you pleaded. She eventually returned from her fit and came to console you. You were a mess and you were scared.

“Hey, hey, it’s probably some prank. Let’s just take a breath, babe. In and out. Nice and slow.” she coached and you followed.

“But- what if it’s not though… what if this isn’t the first time something like this has happened…”

“Wha-what do you mean?” she asked.

You pulled out the polaroid and handed it to Ellie, “I- I found this in your jacket.”

“Y/n I swear I didn't put that there. I have no idea where it came from. Please, please believe me.”

“I do, I do. But that means someone else put it there, and they probably wrote that message too.”

Her head fell into her hands as she let out a sigh, “Fuck. We’re so fucked.”

“So what do we do?”

“We go on that camping trip and keep our mouths shut till we know more.”

“Seriously? What is camping gonna help? I already said I’m not going!” you yelled.

“Like hell you are! You’re insane if you think staying in the same town with the psycho freak who's borderline blackmailing us is gonna solve shit! If we’re in the woods they can’t get to us.” Ellie argued, face turning red with insistence.

“Fuck. I guess you’re kinda right. I’ll go.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you sleep over tonight though? I’m scared Els. I don’t even wanna think about being alone after tonight.”

She gave you a kiss on the forehead, “Of course I’ll stay the night. We’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay.”

✄ - - - - ♡ - - - -

The next morning Reid came barreling over in his beat up white van. He haphazardly whipped into the driveway of your two story home that looked straight out of suburbia. Ellie stood at the top of the concrete hill holding your pink duffle and her navy blue one on the dip of her shoulder. Xavier swung open the sliding door and the both of you climbed in as you were practically slapped in the face with the smell of old bong water and way too many Little Trees air fresheners that somehow made the smell worse.

“Fuckk Reid, you’ve gotta get rid of this kidnapper van.” Ellie remarked, holding her nose and pretending to gag a couple times.

“Fuck off Ellie, you should be thanking me for driving you bums around.”

She just rolled her eyes, “Righttt… Right…”

The van quickly took to the road again, heading straight for the forest where it all happened just 1 year ago.

“It’s too quiet in here. Can we please put on some music?” Lottie asked about 30 minutes into the drive.

“Yeah sure. I have a few tapes in the console right there if you wanna put one in.” Reid gestured to the compartment on the passenger side and Lottie reached in, pulling out the first tape she could find. It was in a small plastic case with no writing or cover to indicate what it was, but it sparked an intrigue, so she popped it into the car's sound system anyways. To Lottie and everyone else’s surprise, music didn’t start playing. All that came through the speakers was a muffled recording of two voices arguing.

“Shut the fuck up August you’re just jealous!”

“You’re gonna regret this Reid.”

“Are you threatening me right now?”

“You’re the one who-”

Before the tape could finish Reid ripped it out of the player, slamming it into the dashboard and destroying the possible evidence.

“How the fuck did you get this Lottie?! Where’d you find this, seriously?” he screamed as his frantic girlfriend tried to explain.

“It was just in the console I swear!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me! I’ve never seen that tape, let alone put it in my car!”

Tears welled in her eyes, “I’m not lying Reid!”

The bickering continued as you, Ellie, and Xavier sat in the back, jaws dropped in utter shock. You felt yourself shutting down at this new found information. Did Reid have something to do with August disappearing? What were they even fighting about? Suddenly breathing felt impossible and the world went silent as panic set it. You only snapped back to Earth when you heard the sound of Ellie screaming.

“FUCK REID LOOK OUT!” It was too late though and the thud of a full size deer flipping over the hood is what finally shut everyone up.

“Oh my god…” you shuddered at the smear of thick crimson blood across the dirty windshield. It didn’t matter if it was an animal, Reid had just taken a life and you were basically an accomplice. Your heart broke and the pit of your stomach swirled with sickness thinking of the likely decapitated body splattered just behind the van. Ellie wrapped you in her arms, as if to shield you from the horror of not only the poor deer, but the realization that any one of your friends could be the reason your brother was missing.

Xavier finally broke the jarring lull in speech, “I- I think we should take a pit stop.”

“Yeah…” Ellie agreed.

✄ - - - - ♡ - - - -

A few miles down the road was a small gas station where Reid pulled over for everyone to recollect themselves. Lottie scrubbed mindlessly at the deer carnage with the murky gas station water and squeegee she found beside the gas pump. Xavier paced in the parking lot like he was off one but it was the pure anxiety and adrenaline that had him tweaking so much. Reid on the other hand was still stuck at the wheel, slouching in the driver's seat, and not making a single move since he put the van into park. Even his deep green eyes remained motionless, they seemed to be locked onto absolutely nothing, just staring into the void. Everyone was a fucking mess. The only people who seemed to be somewhat on this planet still were you and Ellie.

“I think I might gouge my eye’s out if I don’t eat some Swedish Fish and drink a Yerb as soon as possible.” you professed, walking inside the little convenience store with a ring of a bell.

“I think I need a fucking cigarette.” Ellie said in a joking tone, but candidly, these past few days had her seriously considering picking the old habit back up.

“I think everybody does. I’m tired of shit like this happening and then everyone shoving it under the rug cause we’re all still ashamed about last year. I mean, I know I am, but we have to talk about it eventually.”

“You’re right, but even if we did, what is there to say? We were all so fucked up the whole night’s just a blurry mess. Like, did you see Reid's face when that tape came on? It looked like he was hearing the conversation for the first time just like the rest of us.”

“This sucks Ellie” you groaned as you opened up the glass door to retrieve your drink. Ellie approached from behind, slithering her hands from your sides to your naval and giving you a squeeze.

She planted a soft kiss to the top of your head, “This does suck, but I love you and we’re gonna be alright. You gonna be okay for the rest of the drive?” She flipped you around to face her and you gave an assuring nod in response. Ellie always knew just what to say to ease that panicky feeling that was constantly bubbling up in your chest. The girl then took your hand and led you to the counter where a gruff looking cashier checked you out. He slowly scanned each item at an agonizing pace; Hot fries, Swedish Fish, a Yerba Mate, Chex Mix, and a Fanta Orange.

“Total is $13.78” he mumbled as Ellie swiped her card and you gathered up the snacks. The clerk's eyes seemed to get meaner and meaner each second you waited for your receipt– until he finally cracked. “You know you’re going to hell for what you did.”

Ellie backed away, “Excuse me?” Had he overheard something? Did he know about August? Who the fuck was this guy?

“I don’t need any dykes shoving their sins all in my face in my own damn store!” he grunted. Oh, he’s just homophobic. Right. That was y’alls que to get back on the road and out of the middle of nowhere immediately.

✄ - - - - ♡ - - - -

After an excruciatingly mute hour stuck in the “kidnapper van” you finally arrived at the forest where you’d be spending the night. The silence looked to have eased some of the tension though as conversation grew a little more lax around the campfire.

“Yo Lottie do you have the bud? We should roll up.” Xavier suggested. You nodded fervently in agreement, a joint was exactly what you needed. Lottie seemed to have made up with Reid as she was hanging all over him not hearing a word Xavier said.

With a few calls of her name she finally looked up, “Huh?”

“The weed Lottie.” Ellie said.

“Yeah it’s in a little pouch in my tent if someone wants to grab it.” Xavier got up from his spot on a mossy log and ventured into the purple tent hitched by a tree. In just 30 seconds flat he came storming back out, face completely red and a beaded bracelet dangling from his right fist.

“What the fuck is this Lottie!? How do you have this?”

She pulled back from her steamy kiss with Reid to answer, “Oh my god what Xavier? You’re being sooo goddamn annoying today.”

“Could you maybe stop grinding on your boyfriend for 5 fucking seconds and look at what I found in your bag?!” he yelled back. After a closer look the small beads began to look eerily familiar. This wasn’t just any bracelet, this was August’s bracelet. The one he had on the last night he was seen, and all of the sudden Lottie’s loud mouth seemed to shut right up.

“I- I- Xavier believe me I didn’t put that there.”

His voice broke with pain and fury, “Oh really?? Then who did ‘Miss innocent’?”

“I don’t fucking know but it wasn’t me!”

“Fuck you!” he screamed, dashing off into the dark woods. Everyone tried to yell at him to come back but it was no use. He was too angry to listen to anyone but himself.

That being said, hypervigilant Reid stood up to follow, “I’m gonna go find him guys. He shouldn’t be out there alone. Not after…” His voice trailed off but everyone knew exactly what he was alluding to.

“I really didn’t put that there you know” Lottie said.

You and Ellie shared a glance, “We know.”

A puzzled look spread across her face, “what do you mean you know?”

“We think someone’s orchestrating all this,” Ellie said.

“Like blackmail?”

You nodded, “exactly like blackmail. It’s happened to me and Ellie too. Once with a lost polaroid photo and another time with a message written on her car.” You then pulled out the photo to show to Lottie.

She read it aloud, “Don’t believe his lies? Like… Xavier?” Ellie twiddled with her fingers, looking down at the dirt before saying what you and Lottie were both thinking.

“I mean, I don’t want to point fingers because this is a fucked up situation, but how have we all been framed except him?”

Lottie smoothed back the sweaty bangs stuck to her temples, “Fuckkkk. He probably had the bracelet from the start too, he seemed sooo damn eager to go dig through my shit.”

“So, what do we do?” you asked.

Xavier suddenly appeared out of thin air, “What do we do about what?” Lottie practically jumped out of her spot.

“Fuck Xavier you scared me. Wait… Wh- where’s Reid?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he left to look for you.”

“I never saw him.”

Lottie began to scream and call for her missing boyfriend and without a second thought went straight for the forest like an idiot.

“Lottie fuck come back!” Ellie yelled out. It wasn’t long before she was running right back to you though. A blood curdling scream dampening any sounds of nature and sending a parade of chills up everyone’s backs.

“IT’S REID Y/N! IT’S REID! HE- HE- HE’S DEAD!” Lottie collapsed into your arms dry heaving from the overwhelming amount of tears, pain, and betrayal. “IT WAS YOU! IT WAS FUCKING YOU XAVIER!” You and Ellie worked to hold her back as he denied every claim.

“Lottie you’re acting fucking crazy! I didn’t do shit!”

“Even if you didn’t, you're not helping! But to me, it looks like you have guilty written all over you!” Ellie spat back.

“Fuck you guys! This isn’t fucking funny! I didn’t do it! Please, is this some kind of-” His words were cut short along with his head by the swing of a large machete right through his neck, sending a spray of fresh blood into the air and across your face. It took a solid 15 seconds before any of you could even let out a scream, but when you did, it was pure terror.

“RUN! JUST RUN!” you yelled. Ellie grabbed your wrist in one hand and Lottie’s in the other, sprinting away with little discretion. A hooded figure trailed close behind, dirt and rocks flying into the air upon each kick of their sneakers. Air caught in your lungs with no release, all you could do was put one foot in front of the other which was a struggle in itself.

Lottie got brave though and took one single look behind her following immediate regret. A rock caught her pink converse just right, throwing her across the dirty ground and setting her feet back from the rest. And as this hooded figure caught up, the moon casting its light through the trees and across his face, it all began to make sense.

Lottie struggled backwards through the dirt with a scream, “IT’S AUGUST! IT’S FUCKING AUGUST!” Ellie halted in an attempt to pull the fallen girl back up and running but she was frozen in disbelief, in horror, in complete and utter fear. There was no choice but to leave her there and as the both of you turned to run, all you needed to hear was her earth shattering shriek to know exactly what happened.

Tears streamed down your face, “Els, Ellie I- I can’t.”

“Yes you can. Just keep running baby please.” And you did for another couple feet until fate had other plans. A hunting trap violently swept you up into a tree, encasing you in a thick net.

“ELLIE HELP!” you screamed. She pulled and pulled at the rope creating lacerations across her palms and fingers but to no avail.

“Do you trust me Y/n?”

Through tears and strings of snot you shook your head, “Yes Ellie, I trust you.” Your girlfriend then took off, leaving you dangling in the air with no protection. It was just you and August now. And with a single swipe of his weapon you tumbled to the ground, twisting your ankle at the fall.

He gave a sinister smile, “hello sister.” You scrambled in the opposite direction, hands grasping at the soil below but never getting far with your limp foot.

“August please. You don’t have to do this. It’s me! It’s Y/n!”

“STOP IT! You’re not gonna change my mind about this. I’ve waited long enough!” Your heart beats from your chest. What the fuck were you going to do to survive this?

“We’re fucking family August! I’m your sister. You’re my little brother!”

“‘Family’, ‘little brother’,” he mocked, “you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Wha- what do you mean?”

“I’m not living in your shadow anymore Y/n. I’m done being the sidekick to you and all of your stupid friends!”

“They’re your friends too!”

He began inching closer and closer, “No they fucking aren’t! Friends don’t do what you guys did to me. Lying to the police, seriously? Acting like you had no idea what happened? I disappeared and none of you even gave a fuck till the cops started asking questions!”

“That’s not true August,” you broke down into tears once more, “I missed you every fucking day!”

“Clearly not enough.” He slowly lifted his arms, gripping the bloody machete with both hands. There was no escaping at this point. You just clenched your eye’s shut and braced for the end.

“NOOO!” The sound of a gunshot rang through your ears and instead of the feeling of cold metal slicing through you, you were met with the warm embrace of your girlfriend. You broke.

“Ellie. Oh my god Ellie.”

“I’m right here baby. Never leaving. I promise.” She just held you and held you, rocking back and forth till your breaths got less shaky.

“H-How?”

“A cabin. I found an empty cabin with a shotgun hanging right on the wall.”

“God, I love you.” Ellie smoothed back your hair and gave you a kiss.

“I love you too, angel.”

✄ - - - - ♡ - - - -

After that night things were never the same. It was just you and Ellie now. But together you would heal. Somehow, despite all the pain and loss, there was a glimmer of hope. Deep down you both knew things would be okay. And they were.

✄ - - - - masterlist - - - - ♡

taglist...

@endureher @gold-dustwomxn @alexpritch @4rt3m1ss @robinismywifee @sophlovesbooks @97cityy

(taglist is for all callmelola111 works, if you'd like to be removed just kindly lmk)

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